Could one have looked more closely, he would have seen that the stranger's action and manner showed that he was hunting for something. He turned slowly around several times, scanning the ravines, gorges, peaks, and declivities as best he could; but he did not expect to gain much, without the daylight to assist him, and the result of the attempt was anything but satisfactory.
Muttering some impatient exclamation, he turned about and walked slowly away, taking a direction almost the opposite of that which led toward the sleeping boy. He moved with caution, like one accustomed to the wilderness, and was soon lost to view in the gloom.
Then Fred Munson awoke, it was with the impression upon him that he was near some waterfall. He raised his head, but could detect nothing; but when he placed his ear to the ground, he caught it once again.
“I have it!” he said to himself; “there is a waterfall somewhere about here under the ground. That's what makes it sound so hollow when I stamp on it.”
He was greatly relieved to find that no results of his afternoon's nausea remained by him. He had recovered entirely, and when he rather doubtingly assumed the sitting position and felt that his head and stomach remained clear he was considerably elated in spirits.
“That shows that I can get a meal at any time, if I want it bad enough to take a few hours' sickness in pay. Maybe I can find something else to eat which won't be so hard on me. It must be very near morning, for I have slept a great while.”
The hour, however, was earlier then he supposed, and he found, after sitting awhile, that his old drowsiness was returning.
Before giving way to it, he recalled the clump of bushes, which was so near that it was easily seen from where he sat.
“I forgot that I meant to make my bed there.”
With which he rose and moved toward it, not feeling altogether certain of the wisdom of what he was doing.