"Goodness!" cried Nan, who had ridden up to look, too. "Is that a
bottomless pit?"
"Might be, Miss," said Collins. "Anyway, I reckon that's where that
ol' black Satan of an outlaw went to. Too bad! He must be deader'n
a doornail down there."
The mystery seemed to be explained. But Walter was still thoughtful
and curious.
"What's over this way?" he asked, pointing to the hill east of the
gulch.
"More gullies," Rhoda said. "And somewhere is the bear den we're
going to."
"Is it far?" Walter asked.
"It's in the gulch right next beyond this one," said Tom Collins,
with confidence.
Walter evidently had something on his mind, but he said nothing
more. Only Nan noticed his brown study. But when she asked him what
it was about, he only shook his head.
They stopped for lunch, and then went on down the gulch. They were
less than a mile, Tom said, from the open plain, when the head of
the cavalcade rounded a turn in the gulch and a figure suddenly
leaped up from a shady nook--the figure of a man who had evidently
been asleep there and had not heard the cavalcade coming.
Rhoda, who was ahead, reached for the rifle under her knee. Nan was
amazed at the action of the girl of Rose Ranch, for the fellow
standing before them seemed harmless.
He was a Mexican. He wore an enormous straw sombrero, and there was
a good deal of silver cord and bangles upon it. He had a sash wound
around his waist, and into this was thrust a pair of silver-mounted
pistols.
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