The boys, hard behind him, fully expected to behold some unearthly, awesome shape exposed to view.
With a shock, partly of relief, partly of disappointment, they found themselves gazing upon the protruding eyes, inquiring ears, kindly face, and flowing main and forelock, of a white horse, while from his nostrils issued strange snorts of appeal and alarm.
Only his head was visible above the mound. The remainder of him was inside.
“Oh, gee!” exclaimed both boys, in chagrin, wishing that they, instead of the horse, were in the hole—and out of sight.
Joe doubled over in a fit of laughter that caused him fairly to shake and wobble on his feet.
“Whoopee! Whoopee!” he gasped. “Nothin’ but an old white hoss, got stuck in a hole. Or mebbe it’s the hoss the Injun used to ride, and had buried with him, and it’s his night to come out. P’raps to-morrer night’ll be the Injun’s turn.”
“It—it looked like a ghost,” faltered Hal. Ned was tongue-tied in his shame.
“Git out o’ here!” urged Joe, circling the animal, and smiting him suddenly on the flank.
Under this sudden spur, with a grunt, a heave, and a volley of loud snorts, the horse, awakening from his silly lapse into helplessness, all at once plunged and reared, and was at last again on hard ground. Forthwith he began to graze.
“Now there’s room for the Injun to pop out, when he wants to,” chuckled Joe. “Come on, you ghost-finders, so he won’t be afraid.”