Paul turned in his saddle. As he did so an object not over two feet in length and of a gray and white color, with some black, swept to one side of them.
"Can it be a pig?" gasped Chet.
"A pig? No, it's a badger, out on the forage. Don't you smell him?"
Chet recovered and unslung his gun. He tried to take aim in the gloom.
"Don't fire!" said Paul. "What is the use? It's only a waste of ammunition. The badger isn't hurting anything, and he's a good distance from the ranch. Let him go."
By the time Chet had listened to all this the badger had disappeared. The animal was not used to being aroused and was more frightened than any one.
They passed on. The very bottom of the Hollow was at hand. The horses proceeded slowly, realizing the peril of the place.
Once Rush went down into a hole nearly throwing Chet over his head. But the youth held on, and Rush arose all right, with nothing but a slight scrape on his left foreleg.
They peered with watchful eyes up and down the silent pass. Not a sign of any life was there.
