But
despite these sounds and worry about Steele, and the never-absent
haunting thought of Sally, I went to sleep.
A little rain had fallen during the night, as I discovered upon waking;
still it was not enough to cause me any discomfort. The morning was
bright and beautiful, yet somehow I hated it. I had work to do that did
not go well with that golden wave of grass and brush on the windy open.
I climbed to the highest rock of that ridge and looked about. It was a
wild spot, some three miles from town. Presently I recognized landmarks
given to me by Steele and knew I was near his place. I whistled, then
halloed, but got no reply. Then by working back and forth across the
ridge I found what appeared to be a faint trail. This I followed, lost
and found again, and eventually, still higher up on another ridge, with
a commanding outlook, I found Steele's hiding place. He had not been
there for perhaps forty-eight hours. I wondered where he had slept.
Under a shelving rock I found a pack of food, carefully protected by a
heavy slab. There was also a canteen full of water. I lost no time
getting myself some breakfast, and then, hiding my own pack, I set off
at a rapid walk for town.
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