A Fortune Hunter; Or, The Old Stone Corral: A Tale of the Santa Fe Trail

by John Dunloe Carteret

  Chapter XVI.

  "Oh! they were murdered by the wild hunter,--and this is all thatremains to tell the fate of our father's friends," cried Maud,tearfully. "But do you think, Clifford--" She paused a moment, leavingher question unfinished; then, springing to her feet in wildestexcitement, she exclaimed:--

  "We have been blind--blind! but it is all clear now!" and as Rob stoodby, dumb with astonishment, she said, in a hoarse whisper, while shewrung her hands in the intensity of her great emotion: "Bruce'sdaughter--Morelia--Mora!"

  "Yes, yes! I have suspected it since the day father called her Ivarene.I always felt, from the moment that we met, as though I had known herall my life. There seemed to be a look of recognition beaming from theeyes of Mora Estill that has haunted me for months. My God! is itpossible I have only known her three short weeks? it seems like aneternity," said Clifford, in a musing tone, while Rob exclaimed,hurriedly:--

  "That mad hunter was Olin Estill; and it was he who must have stolenMora at the cavern from Ivarene, and left her at the Estill Ranch beforehe met his tragic fate. His is the haunted, lonesome grave on thehill-top, of which Mora spoke."

  "But, oh, what a terrible retribution!--his limbs torn away bywrangling wolves, and his grinning skull left bleaching on the wildprairie," said Maud, tearfully. "Dear Bruce and Ivarene," she continued,with a sob--"must their history end in silence and oblivion?"

  "Do you think, Maud, that the hunter, with all the devilish cunning ofmadness, could have crept back and poisoned them, and then stolen thechild?"

  "Ah! it is too sad to contemplate," she replied. "Their fate would havebeen worse than death; for I now remember having read how ill-starredCarlotta, Maximilian's unhappy empress, was poisoned by some terribleMexican drug, and all the world knows of her hopeless madness, whichwill last until death."

  "I shudder to think who that gray-robed, ghastly creature, with itstangled locks and glassy eyes, may be," said Clifford, hoarse withemotion.

  "Not Bruce! Oh no, no! it can not be! Oh God! what a fate!" cried Maud,with another flood of tears, as she thought of the hideous contrast withthe smiling, handsome lover in the flower-entwined balcony of Monteluma.

  "I will go and take a more extended search up at that cavern," saidClifford. "It may be possible to make some more discoveries. But let uskeep this matter secret, and when our parents are willing to give ustheir confidence, then we will divulge it, but not before," to which theothers agreed; and while Maud was still cautioning him to be verycareful of danger, our young hero rode up by his dwelling, then gallopedrapidly along the winding pathway to the cliff where the cavern wasconcealed.

  Alighting, and securing his horse to a low plum-tree in the thicket, hewent to the door of the cell, and, finding all as he had left it, begansearching the room critically.

  He was reasoning in his mind the probabilities of finding the treasure,which the letter of the hunter led him to suspect was hidden near; forhe had got a very clear glimpse of that villain's nature, when he readthe part that was crossed out after he had written: "The fewer to share,the greater the gain."

  Clifford felt certain that Olin Estill had remained with the treasureafter he had induced his confederate in crime, Eagle Beak (who was, nodoubt, an Indian chief), to decoy the Indians away to Pawnee Rock. Thewretch must have decided to poison Eagle Beak when he marked the letterover, and no doubt he had suppressed the fact of the wine being drugged,so that his confederate would also drink of the liquor.

  "Eagle Beak must have been a white man, disguised as an Indian, or hewould never have been able to read," thought Clifford; but as he knew agreat many half-breeds had become prominent Indian chiefs, he reconciledthis fact with the position which that marauder held. Allowing such tohave been the case, young Warlow knew that he could have been no matchin cunning deviltry for the educated scoundrel, Estill; so he mustcertainly have fallen into the diabolical trap which the latter villainhad laid for him, and, with all his Indians, he had drunk himself tomadness and death from the flasks and jugs of drugged and poisonedliquor. They had all shared a common fate long before reaching thattowering and legendary land-mark of Pawnee Rock. All the actors in thatdire tragedy had met with such swift retribution that no one was left,in a few days after the robbery, to care for the great treasure.

  "Yes; the mighty fortune of Monteluma, its red gold and gleaming gems,is hidden away near by, only waiting to be restored to their rightfulheir, Mora Estill," said Clifford aloud, as he clenched his hand, andthe blood surged to his face in a crimson glow.

  The gold, he believed, had been hastily buried near the Stone Corral bythe leaders while the savages were stupefied with liquor; but the casketof gems, our hero believed, was concealed in the cavern; so it was witha wildly beating heart that our young friend began searching the mouldypallet of straw, but nothing rewarded his scrutiny.

  He had provided himself with a large dirk-knife, which his father hadcarried in the turbulent mining days, and with the heavy metal handle ofthe weapon Clifford proceeded to sound the walls of the cavern; but nohollow echo replied, to betray the cavity which he hoped to discover.The fire-place, chimney, and the ceiling, also were subjected to thesame scrutiny, but with no better result. Then he began near the door,and sounded the solid floor until he arrived at the old couch; but thestone seemed to be a solid sheet of limestone, on which the hilt of theweapon rang with a clear, metallic clang, resonant but disheartening.

  Hastily removing the old mattress, young Warlow resumed hisexplorations; and as he vainly searched the floor his heart sank likelead, and he paused to wipe the cold sweat from his face beforefinishing the last remaining spot in one corner. A feeling of dread andapprehension overcame him, and he shrank from the ordeal. Hope deferredbegan to dampen the enthusiasm of our young "Fortune Hunter," and hecould scarcely summon his courage to the final test of searching thatone remaining spot; but, drawing a long sigh, he resumed the operation,and the very first blow caused his brain to reel and the blood to boundmadly in his veins; for the hollow sound which the blow elicited provedthat the hidden cavity was reached at last.

  The bottom of the cavern was thickly incrusted with filth and damp earthat that place; but he dug with frantic energy, and soon the dim outlineof a square flag-stone was visible. Breathless and panting, young Warlowpried at the stone, and as it slowly arose he closed his eyes, as iffearing to glance down into the cavity below.

  "Ah, if this is the casket of gems, Mora will be the greatest heiress inall the land, and the gulf which the riches of the cattle-king madebetween myself and her will only be widened by this great wealth,"Clifford thought; and he now, for the first time, regretted having comeout on a search which might lead to his life-long misery.

  For one moment the tempter whispered in his ear; but quickly the Warlowhonor triumphed, and he looked down resolutely into the cavity.

  Yes! there was the casket, and beside it a roll of papers.

  Fate had been fickle and cold so long; but now, when her smile was worsethan a frown, she could easily relent.

  Catching up the papers and casket, he sprang across the room to the doorwith a hoarse cry of delight. Upon the decayed old parchment he couldonly discern one faint word, Monteluma; then the casket dropped from hisnerveless grasp and fell to the stone floor with a crash.

  An exclamation of delight escaped him as the gems which had fallen uponthe floor, flashed back the sun-rays in scintillating splendor, and thelow, dull room was lit by a glare like the lightning-riven storm-cloud.

  It was a scene of bewildering beauty--of fascinating splendor--that methis gaze:--great diamonds, that shot broad flashes of rainbow light;strands of pale pearls, glinting in fitful splendor; burning rubies,that poured forth flames of crimson, which mingled with the rays shed bythe amethysts of rose, purple, and lilac; while the lurid, baleful fireof opals and emeralds flickered and glimmered in the sunlight.

  Stooping down, young Warlow gathered up the priceless gems, tremblingmeanwhile at the strange, unreal event, and after secu
rely placing themagain within the casket, and rearranging the room, he mounted his horseand galloped back over the swelling hills.

  As the hoofs of his gray Norman tore through the thickets of rank grass,tangled and woven in a maze of golden, leafless tendrils by the slenderlove-vine, or bruised the mignonette until all the moist, sultry air wasrich with its pungent fragrance, Clifford was revolving in his mindseveral plans for concealing the mighty treasure of which he had justbecome the guardian. He concluded that he must find a securehiding-place at his dwelling, where the casket might remain until theproper moment should arrive when he could reveal the discovery, andrestore the property to its rightful owner.

  On arriving at his dwelling, Clifford tied his horse in the stable, thenentered the house, locking the door and drawing the blinds, so as to besafe from intrusion while he pondered over the situation.

  The room was a tastefully-furnished apartment, carpeted with a rich,dark carpet, a remnant of luxury that had once adorned the oldplantation home, and supplied with easy chairs, a book-case, wellfilled, and some good paintings, which were gifts from his earlyfriends.

  This room was the gathering-place for the men and boys of Clifford'sneighborhood on rainy days and lonesome Sundays, and here it was that hespent most of his leisure time in reading or study.

  At length he arose and went to the attic, from which place he soonreturned with a case of tools. Then, taking up the carpet in the cornerof the room, he sawed out a place in the floor large enough to admit thestrong, iron-bound chest, which he had dragged out from the adjoiningroom.

  After hastily tacking some cleats on the boards, which he had sawed outof the floor, thus providing a lid for the cavity, he placed the chestwithin the aperture. The bottom of the strong box rested on the earthbelow, and its top came nearly even with the floor. In a smallcompartment of this chest young Warlow placed the jewels; then he pausedawhile to look at the roll of parchments.

  These documents proved to be the patents to the estate of Monteluma, andClifford could dimly see the signatures of Charles V and Philip II, withthe broad seal of the Spanish crown on the mildewed, discolored, yetprecious parchments.

  There was, in addition, a large envelope, heavily sealed, on which thesuperscription was quite dim. In the waning light young Warlow failed todecipher it; but promising himself that he would soon examine thismystery-hinting missive at greater leisure, he placed all the papers inthe chest, which he securely locked, closed the trap-door, and tackeddown the carpet; then, fastening up the house with great care, hehurried down to his father's dwelling.