, when he recognized the occupants of the
second craft. "Get back, I tell you, or I'll shoot!"

"If you do we'll do some shooting on our own account, Porton!" called
back Roger, and showed his pistol.

The sight of the weapon evidently frightened Porton greatly. Yet he
did not cease rowing, and now he headed directly for the Mexican
shore.

The river at this point was broad and shallow and contained numerous
sand-bars. Almost before they knew it the craft containing our friends
ran up on one of the bars and stuck there. In the meantime Ward Porton
continued his efforts to gain the shore.

"What's the matter, Dave?" cried Roger, when he saw our hero stop
rowing.

"We are aground," was the answer. "Here, Roger, get to the stern of
the boat with me, and we'll see if we can't shove her off again."

With the two chums in the stern of the craft, the bow came up out of
the sand-bar, and in a few seconds more Dave, aided by the current of
the stream, managed to get the rowboat clear. But all this had taken
time, and now the two chums saw that Ward Porton had beached his boat
and was running across the marshland beyond.

"I'm afraid he is going to get away," remarked Roger, dolefully.

"Not much!" answered Dave. "Anyway, I'm not going to give up yet," and
he resumed his rowing.

"Here, let me take a turn at that. You must be getting a little
tired," said Roger, and he insisted that Dave allow him to do the
rowing.

Soon they reached the Mexican shore, at a point where there was a wide
stretch of marshland with not a building in sight. They had gotten
several glimpses of Ward Porton making his way through the tall grass.
The trail was an easy one to follow.

"Come on! We'll get him yet!" muttered Dave, and started off on the
run with Roger behind him.

They had just reached an ill-kept highway when they heard shouting in
the distance. They saw Ward Porton running wildly in the direction of
a set of low buildings, evidently belonging to some sort of ranch. As
the former moving-picture actor disappeared, a band of Mexican
cavalry swept into view.

"Quick, Roger! Down in the grass!" cried Dave. "We don't want those
soldiers to see us! They may be government troops, but they look more
like guerrillas--like the rascals who raided the Tolman ranch!"

"Right you are," answered the senator's son. And then both lay low in
the tall grass while the Mexican guerrillas, for they were nothing
else, swept past them.