Besides the concern which he naturally felt regarding his friends,
there was a matter that more clearly related to himself that demanded
his attention.
The water in the tank was at its lowest ebb, and it would be dangerous
for him to attempt to run more than one hour or so longer before
replenishing it. Consequently he was unable to stand anything like
another chase from the Indians.
As the part of prudence, therefore, he turned toward the river,
following slowly along the bank, in quest of some place where it would
be easy and safe for him to secure the much-needed water.
It was a long and discouraging hunt. The banks were so high that he
could find no point where it was safe for him to descend to the
water's edge. There was too great a risk of 'upsetting his cart,' a
calamity which, in all probability, would be irreparable.
At length, however, when be had wandered about a mile distant from the
Wolf Ravine, he discovered a place, where the bank had about six feet
elevation, and sloped down gradually to the river.
Here he paused, and with a small vessel, descended to the stream,
muttering to himself as he did so:
'Why didn't I think and put a pumping arrangement to the machine? I
could have done it as well as not, and it would have saved me a good
deal of trouble.
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