Rhoda headed away from the herd, and by and by they descended a steep but grassy slope into the mouth of a rock-walled canyon. It was a wild-looking place; but there were clumps of roses growing here and there. Rhoda leaped down and let her pony stand, with the reins trailing before him on the ground.
"Isn't he cunning!" observed Bess. "He thinks he's hitched."
"They are trained that way. You see, on the plains there are so few hitching posts," said Rhoda dryly.
The others dismounted, too. Rhoda was hunting among the great boulders that littered the grassy bottom. When they asked her what she was looking for, she called back that she would show them a boiling spring if she could find it.
Suddenly Nan lifted her head to listen. Then she started up the canon, which, in that direction, grew narrower between the walls.
"Don't you hear that calf bawling?" she demanded, when Bess asked her where she was going.
"Oh, I hear it," said Bess, keeping in the rear. "But how do you know it is a calf?"
"Then it is something imitating one very closely," sniffed Nan, and kept on. The next minute she shouted back: "It is! A little, cunning, red calf. And, oh, Bess! it has hurt its leg."
She ran forward. Bess followed with more caution. Suddenly there was a crash in the bushes, and out into the open, right beside the injured calf, came a red and white cow. This animal bawled loudly and charged for a few yards directly toward Nan Sherwood.
"Oh, goodness, Nan! Come away!" begged Bess, turning to run. "That old cow will bite you."