He did not linger for idle speculation,hut drew himself up his dangling rope,and in a short time was once more outside the place of refuge.Always on the lookout for possible watchers,he snatched up his bread and meat,and ate as he hastened over the outer ridge and down the rugged side toward the wagon.Here he filled a box with canned provisions and a side of bacon,and on top of this he secured a sack of flour.It made a heavy burden,but his long sleep had restored him to his wonted strength,and he could not be sure but this trip to the wagon would be his last.With some difficulty he hoisted the box to his herculean shoulder,and grasping a spade and an ax in his disengaged hand,toiled upward to his asylum.
When the crevice in the mountain-top was reached,he threw the contents of the box down into the tarpaulin which he had spread out to receive it,and having broken up the box with the ax,cast the boards down that they might fall to one side of the provisions.This done,he returned to the wagon,from above invisible,but which,when he stood on the plain,loomed dim and shapeless against the night.
There were great stores of comforts and even some luxuries in the wagon,and it was hard for him to decide what to take next;evidently Henry Gledware and his wife had expected to live in their wagon after reaching their destination,for there was a stove under the seat,and a stovepipe fastened to one side of the wagon.