in the dust of a rotted purse lay a small heap of gold coins of
strange design.

"Well, pard," said Brick Willock grimly, "you come here first and
much obliged to you. You've told me two things: that once in here,
no getting out--unless you bring along your ladder; and what's
better still, nobody has been here since you come, or that wouldn't
be my money! And now having told me all you got to say, my
cavalier, I guess we'd better part." He raked the bones into a
heap, and dashed them into the black gulf. He did not hear them
when they struck bottom, and the sinister silence gave him an odd
thrill. He shook his head. "If I ever roll out of bed here," he
said, "me and you will spend the rest of the time together,
pardner."

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