And the later hours of the hungry afternoon were rather pleasantly occupied in dwelling upon one of them.
The sole guest of the Crystal Palace Hotel entered the hostelry that night somewhat earlier than was usual; indeed at the very earliest moment that foot traffic through the narrow street seemed to have diminished to a point where the entry could be effected without incurring the public notice which he at these moments so sincerely shunned.

After a brief interval inside the lobby he issued from his window with certain objects in hand, one of which dropped as he clambered out.

The resulting clamour seemed to rouse far echoes along the dead street, and he hastily withdrew, with a smothered exclamation of dismay, about the nearest corner of the building until it could be ascertained that echoes alone had been aroused.
After a little breathless waiting he slunk down the street, keeping well within friendly shadows, stepping softly, until he reached the humble cabin where so lately the honest miners had enacted their heart-tragedy.
He jerked the latch-string of the door and was swiftly inside, groping a way to the fireplace.

Here he lighted matches, thoughtfully appropriated that morning from the cafeteria counter.

He shielded the blaze with one hand while with the other he put to use the articles he had brought from his hotel.
Into a tin cooking pot with a long handle he now hastily ladled well-cooked beans from the discarded heap in the fireplace, by means of an iron spoon.