He listened for a moment, and then hurried on to the spring.
"Blanche will be lonesome," he thought.

"Her father placed her in my charge, and I will protect her if I can." Climbing the moss-grown stone, he descended into a dark ravine to the spring.

The sun was set by this time, and the sombre shades of twilight began to spread over the scene.

His eager eyes pierced the gathering gloom and discovered that the food left had been attacked by animals and the biscuit devoured.
He searched the ground, and saw footprints.
"Some animals have been here," he thought.

"They evidently did not like dried fish, for, though they have trampled over them, they have devoured none; but the sea-biscuits are all gone." It was impossible to determine what sort of animals they were, but he was quite sure they were not dangerous.
He took up the gun and returned to the tent, where he related to Blanche the loss of their biscuits.
"Then there are animals on the land," she said.
"Yes; but they are not dangerous," he returned.