After they got past those two maple trees there was no more fast running to be done.
Down, down, deeper and rockier and rougher every rod of it, the rugged chasm opened ahead of them, and it was necessary for the boys to mind their steps. It was a place where a woodchuck or a small dog could get around a good deal faster than any boy, but they all followed Quib in a way that would have scared their mothers if they had been there.
"It's grand fun!" said Mart Penniman. "Finest woodchuck you ever saw!"
"Come on, boys!" shouted Abe Selover, away ahead. "We'll get him, this time."
Abe had a way of being just the next boy behind the dog in any kind of chase, and they all clambered after him in hot haste.
On went Quib, and even Abe Selover could not see him more than half the time, for he had an immense deal of dodging to do, in and out among the rocks and trees, and it was dreadfully shady at the bottom of that ravine.
The walls of rock, where Abe was, rose more than sixty feet high on either side, and the glen was only a few rods wide at the widest place.
"He's holed him! He's holed him! Come on! we've got him, now!"
Quib was scratching and yelping like an insane dog at the bottom of what looked like a great crack between two rocks, in the left-hand side of the glen as you went down. The crack was only an inch or so wide at the bottom, and twisted a good deal as it went up, for the rock was of the kind known as "pudding-stone." There was a hole, just there, large enough for a woodchuck, but too small for a dog.
"Dig, boys! Dig!"