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

by John Dunloe Carteret

  Chapter XVII.

  Maud and Rob met Clifford at the gate, and as he passed under thelatticed arch where the trumpet-vine clambered with succulent ambition,its sprays of flame-red bugles mottled with spots of velvety black, Maudsaid eagerly:--

  "I was growing uneasy about you, Cliff. Did you see nothing of thatstrange, gray-robed creature up at the cell?"

  "Nothing whatever; but I am led to believe that mysterious being oftenstays there. We must keep a sharp watch on the place hereafter, andperhaps we may unravel the mystery," he replied, anxious to lead thesubject away from his recent search.

  As he stood, dreading further questioning, the supper-bell sounded, andhe quickly moved on into the house, determined that he would conceal hisdiscovery until he had made a search for the gold also.

  The Warlow family retired early that night; but as the clock struck twoClifford arose, and listening to be certain that Rob was safe in thearms of Morpheus, he then stepped lightly out on to the veranda, and,after pausing a moment at the foot of the steps to draw on his boots,hurried down to the barn.

  After saddling one of his Norman horses, he rode up to his dwelling,where he secured the iron rod and spade with which he had prosecutedhis former search, and then galloped on down to the old cottonwood-tree.

  Tying his horse to an ash-tree on the river bank, he began digging onthe very spot where he had unearthed the cask with all its attendinghorrors. While throwing the soil out of the pit, he soon forgot thedangers and disappointment which had attended that adventure, and in hiseagerness to reach the shattered cask, still remaining below him, helabored with such energy that he soon reached the object of his search.

  As he began to clear the dirt from the shattered cask, he often listenedto hear the warning rattle that would announce the presence of the mateto that venomous reptile which he had slain here a few weeks previous;but no trace of the serpent was found. While removing the last spadefulof earth, the thought came to him like a flash of sunlight that thesnake had been placed within the cask for the very purpose of terrifyingand discouraging any one from searching deeper after he had unearthedit.

  He remembered having read of circumstances where reptiles had been foundimprisoned in rock, where they had survived the confinement of an era oftime to which twenty-seven years was a short period in comparison; so itappeared that the snake might have been placed there when the cask wasburied, and had lived and developed into the enormous reptile which hadserved to unnerve him and arrest his search on the first occasion.

  It had occurred to him, before digging, that the cask had been buriedby the wretches who were engaged in the massacre at the corral, and thatthe treasure was secreted just below the cask. This belief had resultedfrom his successful search at the cavern, and had ripened now intoalmost conviction; so he had resolved to search deeper on the same spotwhere he had met with his first signal failure.

  "How true it is that we should always look below the surface oftreachery, enmity, and failure for the true gold of success!" said youngWarlow, meanwhile removing the last stave of the old cask, and boringdown with the iron rod into the bottom of the pit.

  As the instrument struck hard against some resisting object, but twofeet below, he felt the shock of a hot thrill of excitement; thengrasping his spade with trembling hands, he soon reached the goal of hislabors.

  Another cask was revealed!

  Yes; there was the treasure, he felt with all the conviction ofcertainty, that he had so long vainly hoped to recover. He struck thehead of the cask several blows with his spade, and as the wood crushedin, he paused with the same old feeling of vacillation and dread thathad seized him when the precious casket lay unopened before him at thesecret cavern,--the irresolute, wavering sensation, the fear ofdisappointment, which so often assails us when fortune's phantom standsdimly near, and we hesitate to grasp her beckoning hand, fearing vaguelythat a buffet may await us. It was in such a mood young Warlow stood,while the hopes and fears coursed dreamily through his soul. Thesweat-drops rained from his brow, and fell trickling down through thepale moonlight. At last, with shaking hand, he lit his lantern andpeered down into the cask below; and as he slowly cleared out thefragments of the shattered head, he saw that there was a mass of fleecywool filling the cask completely. Tearing this aside with nervelessfingers and panting haste, there was revealed row after row of deer-skinbags, with the words,

  "George Warlow, 1849."

  plainly lettered upon their sides. With his knife he quickly severed thethong that bound one of them, and the dull, red gold gleamed back in theflickering light!

  "Oh God! at last--at last!" cried our hero (who certainly has earned histitle), as broken sobs shook his frame, and he leaned faint and dizzyagainst the side of the pit. But while he stood, weak and panting, awild, frightened snort from his horse caused him to bound out of thepit, and hurry forward to where he had fastened the animal. When hereached the tree the usually quiet creature was found to be tremblingwith fear or excitement. After caressing the sleek Norman for a moment,and speaking in a soothing tone to quiet the creature, Clifford walkedback toward the pit; but as he came into the moonlight, he paused amoment to take a full breath of the light breeze, which was rippling thewater and whispering among the trees.

  Far down the valley he could trace the silvery veil of vapor, revealingthe course of the narrow stream, and among the dense shadows of willowand vines the fire-flies wove their webs of glimmering light. Themidsummer night was still and tranquil, the silence only broken by themoan of the brook and the chirp of insects; the heavy dew-drops on treeand shrub glinted and flashed in the moonbeams that sifted through thewillows in a sheen of wavering silver.

  The quavering scream of a wolf on some dismal hill-top--a sound heardnightly all over the Western prairies, but one that never fails to senda cold thrill of horror through the lone traveler--startled Cliffordfrom the momentary reverie into which he had fallen, and brought backvividly the remembrance of that night of terror and danger, which nowseemed so long ago; and, as if the very thought had conjured up thespirits of the past, that well-remembered spectre, gray-robed, withsnaky locks and glaring eyes, darted from among the shadows and with itsbony, talon-like fingers clutched at young Warlow's throat.

  Not a sound came from the lips that were drawn back from its snaggledfangs, but with its loathsome, grave-like breath full on his cheek, itclosed in a death grapple with the startled and horrified youth. A wildstruggle ensued; the rank vines and slender willows were trampled to theearth; and soon the combatants stood on the banks of the stream, by adeep, dark pool, and the fierce, unearthly creature, tried to forceClifford's head beneath the water.

  As the fiendish, murderous intention of his assailant became apparent,young Warlow sprang back from the danger that yawned before him, andtore loose from the fury-blinded wretch, which again darted at Clifford,grappling with him in all the frenzy and desperation of a maniac.

  The failing strength of the strange creature became more apparent everymoment; so Clifford determined to first exhaust it by a violentstruggle, then bind it with the lariat which hung at his saddle; andsoon it was an easy matter for our athletic and vigorous young hero todrag the panting wretch to where his horse stood trembling with terrorand wild with fright. Clifford spoke in a soothing tone, and when thehorse became once more quiet, he reached for the lariat, while holdingthe maniac with one hand; but with a desperate wrench the spectral beingtore loose from his grasp, and bounded away with a loud yell. Then, asit fled swiftly away over the prairie, at every step it would shrieklike a mangled hound--the sound growing fainter, until at length it diedout in silence on the grassy hills.

  With a prolonged shiver, Clifford started like one awakened from aterrible night-mare; then remembering the new-found treasure, he hurriedback to the pit, and peered down--as though fearful that he should findit all a dream.

  But no--there was the red gold, resting where it had lain so long.

  Clifford paused a moment, irresolute and uncertain wh
at course topursue. How should he remove this vast treasure to a place of security?he was asking himself, when there recurred to his mind the fact thatthere was harness in his stable, and an old, stout sled there also. Thelatter had been used in transporting stone from the old wall to buildhis dwelling, and was admirably adapted to just such a purpose asbearing up the heavy sacks of coin. So young Warlow lost no time inhurrying down to the stable.

  As he nervously harnessed the horse by the dim light of the lantern, hewas devoured with anxiety, lest something should occur that would yetrob him of the fruits of his great discovery. "What if that uncannydemon should return, and undo all his labor by some diabolical plan oract?" he found himself saying in a half-audible tone, as with tremblinghaste he hurried back to the treasure--and found all his fears weregroundless, for every thing remained as he had left it.

  When he attempted to lift the sacks of coin he found that it was nolight task, for each one of the stout bags weighed fully forty pounds;but with great difficulty he loaded ten of them on to the low vehicle,then led the horse up to the dwelling, close to the door, where,unhitching the animal and securing him to the stone post near by, heproceeded to carry the sacks into the dwelling.

  Five of the first were lettered with the name of his father. These heplaced by themselves. Then, taking up the carpet and the floor where hehad concealed the chest, he untied the remaining five sacks, and emptiedtheir glittering contents into the iron-bound box. When all this wascompleted, he returned for another load, but not without againentertaining grave fears for the safety of the precious cask, which hefound still undisturbed.

  Four more loads of the coin emptied the cask. Then came the work ofrefilling the pit, and obliterating all trace of the search. Then, afterreturning the sled and harness to their accustomed places, Clifford satdown, faint and weary, to feast his eyes on the grand sight, theenormous wealth that was displayed by the lamp-light.

  More than four hundred thousand dollars in gold lay in a glittering, redmass before him! The coin almost filled the chest, while in the shallowcompartment were the gems, which he had taken from their casket, that hemight once more admire them and feast his eyes on their splendor.

  The gems--he remembered having heard his father say--represented morethan half a million dollars; and he tried to realize what this vastaggregation of wealth meant--this million of treasure that he hadrestored to the light since the last sunrise; but only faintly could theyoung "Fortune Hunter" comprehend the power and grandeur of the treasurebefore him.

  Out among the mass of red and yellow gold trailed a strand of frosty,glimmering pearls. The great diamonds, that flashed their rivers oflight; and rubies, that mingled their rays of rose and crimson with thegreen glint of emeralds; lurid opals, sapphires of sparkling blue orviolet red; amethysts of pink, purple, and lilac,--all spoke in proudesttones of the wealth of Monteluma; and, with a weary sigh, Cliffordthought of the wide social gulf which now yawned between himself and theheiress of all this splendor.

  After securing all the treasure in the chest, and locking the doorsecurely behind, young Warlow rode stealthily homeward as the firstblush of crimson was mantling the eastern sky, and the great planetswere growing pale.