enough for Happy Jack to see, clear and close, Blink pausing
irresolutely upon the edge of a deep, brush-filled gulley. Happy Jack
gave a hoarse croak of triumph and fired, just as the fog-curtain
swayed back maddeningly. Happy Jack nearly wept with pure rage. Weary
and Slim came up, and together they galloped to the place, riding by
instinct of direction, for there was no longer any sound to guide.

Ten minutes they spent searching the gulley's edge. Then they saw
dimly, twenty feet below, a huddled object half-hidden in the brush.
They climbed down none too warily, though they knew well what might be
lying, venomous as a coiled rattler, in wait for them below. Slipping
and sliding in the fog-dampened grass, they reached the spot, to find
the big sorrel crumpled there, dead. They searched anxiously and
futilely for more, but Blink was not there, nor was there anything to
show that he had ever been there. Then not fear, perhaps, but caution,
came to Happy Jack.

"Aw, say! he's got away on us--the skunk! He's down there in the
brush, somewheres, waiting for somebody to go in and drag him out by
the ear. I betche he's laying low, right now, waiting for a chance to
pot-shot us. We better git back out uh this." He edged away, his eyes
on the thicket just below. To ride in there was impossible, even to
the Happy Family in whole or in part. To go in afoot was not at all to
the liking of Happy Jack.

Slim gave a comprehensive, round-eyed stare at the unpromising
surroundings, and followed Happy Jack. "By golly, that's right. Yuh
don't git me into no hole like that," he assented.

Weary, foolhardy to the last, stayed longest; but even Weary could not