Slowly the hours came and went and still I remained under the cliff, a prey to many disturbing thoughts. What were my companions doing? Would they come up the canyon in search of me, or would they sail off and leave me to my fate?
Toward nightfall several shots in the distance disturbed me. They did not come from the shore, but from still further up the canyon. I listened intently, bat nothing but silence succeeded the discharge of firearms.
The night which followed proved a long one. For several hours I could not get to sleep for thinking of my position, but finally I fell into a deep slumber that lasted far into the next day.
The sun was now shining brightly and the birds and insects had again taken up their songs and hummings. I arose and stretched myself, and was pleased to note that I could walk fairly well and that my brain was clear, even though my head still felt sore.
I directed my footsteps down the canyon to the seashore, coming out at the spot where I had left Dawson and the others encamped. Nothing remained but the charred embers of a camp-fire, which had been built to cook some fish.
I say nothing remained. There was something else there that filled me with horror. It
