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Updated: May 17, 2025
"Guess you've satisfied your curiosity some. Say, the boys didn't handle you too rough, I take it. I told 'em to go light." Horrocks was constrained to retort. "Not so rough as you'll be handled when you get the law about you." "Now I call that unfriendly. Guess them's gopher's words. But say, pard, the law ain't got me yet. Wot d'ye think of the road across the keg? Mighty fine trail that."
Where horse and rider lay was a good two miles, but within seven minutes he had reached the spot. Flinging the bridle over the broncho's neck, he dismounted. As he did so, a cry broke from him. It was, as it were, an answer to the "Oh, Orlando!" which had been ringing in his ears. There, lying upon the ground beside the horse, with its broken leg caught in a gopher's hole, was Louise.
Then she crept back noiselessly to the hole to take a last peep before she threw herself down flat upon her stomach, grasped the end of the string, and lay very still. For a moment there was no movement at the burrow. But soon the tip end of a gopher's nose appeared, the whiskers moving inquiringly, and disappeared.
The gopher's wise, old-fashioned looking head is quite a contrast to that of the lizard, with its eager, inquisitive expression. There is always a little twisted-up head and bright eye, or a sharp little tail, appearing and disappearing, wherever we look. They spend their whole time in coming and going. Their purpose seems to be accomplished, if they succeed in seeing us, and getting safely away.
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