THE MEADOWSToward the middle of the afternoon, four days later, the two shoved the canoe in close to the bank as they approached a wide bend of the river, and listened.
“What do you make of it?” asked Ken.
“Sounds like someone driving nails,” answered Bill. “We’ve probably run onto that Siwash village Granddad told us about.”
“I don’t believe so,” answered Ken. “Somehow the driving of nails doesn’t fit in with my ideas of Indians.”
“Probably the outlaws, then,” growled Bill. “If that’s the case, we’re a damned sight worse off than if it was the Siwashes. Let’s take our rifles and slip through the woods and find out.”
Ken shook his head. “No, let’s shove on up the river. Indians or outlaws, I’d rather not be caught sneaking up on their camp with a rifle. They might misconstrue our inte
