It was not much like the night before when Utley stole the chicken. Then there was a part moon, unclouded, while now there was a sort of haze that made walking rather uncertain. I picked my steps slowly, pausing now and then to listen for anything that might be construed into a signal of danger. I gave the railway cut where the rope had been stretched a wide berth, and, coming back to the track again, continued at a rapid pace until the first streaks of dawn began to warn me that I must soon get under cover for the day. In crossing a bridge through which a turnpike ran under the railroad, I found at the back of one of the stone abutments what seemed to be an excellent hiding-place for my treasure. Carefully putting the cash and bonds far down in an opening, and placing stones over the top, I made as I hoped, a safe depository, until I could reach New York, and, fixing myself up, return and get the proceeds of my first bank loot. But again a tremor of remorse came over me at the thought of the way this treasure had come into my possession. I drowned it quickly, however, and seeing a brook not far off, drank freely to quench a terrible thirst, filled my water flask, and began to search for a hiding-place. The first barn I visited had no hay in which I could stow myself, nor had the second, though there I discovered a couple of hen’s eggs, much to my delight, yet wishing that I had come across a dozen. Carefully I put them away, and going to the next barn, was doomed to disappointment, finding no haymow in which I dared to hide. But it was growing so light that I must not go on farther, courting discovery, so I crawled under the barn through a hole in the flooring, and, squeezing myself along, I presently got to within ten feet of one of the under-pinning walls, where there was scarcely room enough for me to move my body. Setting to work with my bare hands, I dug, with much difficulty, a hole in the ground that would permit me to sit upright with some sort of comfort. The damp, sour earth I had removed was formed into a sort of breastworks, facing the direction from which I had come, while toward the wall the space between the flooring was so narrow that I feared no detection from that source. Thus intrenched, I realized for the first time that my fingers were torn and bleeding, not being accustomed to playing the part of a spade. But I bore the pain without a murmur, believing that, if I escaped capture, I must work out my salvation with much privation and no end of hardship.