Slowly the sun faded from view behind the distant mountains, casting long shadows over the foothills and the level stretches beyond. The night birds sang their parting song, and then came the almost utter silence of the night.
"When do you suppose we'll reach Dottery's?" questioned Chet, after several miles had been covered.
"If all goes well, we'll get there by one or two o'clock," returned his brother. "You must remember we have Demon Hollow to cross, and that's no fool of a job in the dark."
"Especially if the Demon is abroad," laughed Chet. He was only joking, and did not believe in the old trappers' stories about the ghost in hiding at the bottom of the rocky pass.
When darkness fell the hoofstrokes of the horses sounded out doubly loud on the semi-stony road. Yet, to the boys, even this was better than that intense stillness, which made one feel, as Chet expressed it, "a hundred miles from nowhere at all."
So tired were the horses that the boys had their hands full making them keep their gait. They would trot a few steps and then drop into a stolid walk.
"I don't blame them much," said Chet, sympathetically. "It's doing two days' work in one. But never mind, they shall have a good rest when it's all over."
By ten o'clock it was pitch dark. To be sure the stars were shining, but they gave forth but a feeble light. The boys had to hold their animals at a tight rein to keep them from stumbling into unexpected holes.
"It will be nearer three o'clock than two before we get there at this rate," grumbled Paul. "Just look ahead and see how dark and forbidding the Hollow looks."
"Not the most cheerful spot in the world truly," rejoined Chet, as he strained his eyes to pierce the heavy shadows. "Let us get past it as soon as we can."