When he left the wagon with his next burden,he was obliged to bend low under buckets,tools,cans and larger objects.As he moved slowly to preserve equilibrium,he began to chuckle.Reckon if the Injuns saw me now,he said aloud,they'd take me for an elephant with the circus-lady riding my back!At the crevice,he flung in all that would pass the narrow opening intact,and smashed up what was too large,that their fragments might also be hidden.
Pshaw!grunted Willock,as he started back toward the wagon,mopping his brow on his shirt-sleeve,Robinson Crusoe wasn't in it!Wonder why he done all that complaining when he had a nice easy sea to wash him and his plunder ashore?
He was beginning to feel the weariness of the morning return,and the load that cleaned out the wagon-bed left him so exhausted that he fell down on the ground beside the crevice,having thrown in his booty.Here,with his gull at his side and a pistol in his hand,he fell fast asleep.
He lay there like a man of stone until some inner consciousness began beating at the door of his senses,warning him that in no great time the moon would rise.He started up in a state of dazed bewilderment,staring at the solemn stars,the vague outlines of giant rocks about him and the limitless sea of darkness that flowed away from the mountain-top indicating,but not defining,the surrounding prairie.
Get up from here!Willock commanded himself.He obeyed rather stiffly,but when he was on his feet,ax in hand,he made the trip to the wagon nimbly enough.As he drew near,he saw gray shadows slipping away--they were wolves.He shouted at them disdainfully,and without pause began removing the canvas from over the wagon.When that was done,his terrific blows resolved the wagon-bed to separated boards,somewhat splintered hut practically intact.By means of the wrench he removed the wheels and separated the parts of the wagon-frame.Always,when he had obtained enough for a load,he made that toilsome journey to his retreat.He took the four wheels at one time,rolling them one by one,lifting them singly from ledge to ledge.
The last of his work was made easier because the darkness had begun to lift.Suddenly a glow appeared at the rim of the world,to he followed,as it seemed,almost immediately by the dazzling edge of an immense silver shield.The moon rolled over the desert waste and rested like a solid wheel of fire on the sand.Instantly for miles and miles there was not a shadow on the earth.The level shafts of light bathed with grotesque luminous distinction the countless prairie-dogs which,squatting before the mouths of their retreats,barked at the quick betrayal.Coyotes,as if taken by surprise,swung swiftly toward remote mountain fastnesses,their backs to the light.
When Willock made his last and slowest trip to the ridge,his feet dragging like lead,there was nothing to show that a covered wagon had stood at the edge of the prairie;the splinters of the final demolition had already mingled indistinguishably with the wind-driven sand.Arrived at the second ridge,which was still in darkness,he took pains that no telltale sign should be left on the smooth expanse of granite to indicate the near presence of a man.Swinging to the lariat that was now tied to a short plank,he lowered himself into the midst of the debris with which that part of his floor was strewn.Poised on top of the heap of boards that had formed the sides of the wagon,he pushed upward with a longer plank and dislodged the one from which the rope dangled.It fell at his feet.
Provided with nails,a hammer and plenty of lumber,it would not be difficult to construct a ladder for egress.At present,he was too tired to provide for the future.He left the spoils just as they had fallen,except for the old wagon-tongue and a board or two with which he built a barricade against the unknown depths at the farthest margin of the floor.Then drawing the mattress to one side,and clearing it of its contents,he fell upon it with a sigh of comfort,and was again plunged into slumber--slumber prolonged far into the following day.
