THE FATE OF A MISER.
As Manson gazed in horror at those two charred bodies reduced to
skeletons in that dark cave, he felt more than ever that his every step
for many days had been in obedience to some mysterious power that had at
last brought him face to face with danger and death.
For one instant the impulse to turn from that ghastly sight and leave
the cave came to him, but the baleful fascination of those hideous
objects held him prisoner. He could not if he would turn away. One of
the skeletons, for such they almost were, was that of a tall man, face
up, the grinning teeth fully exposed; the other of smaller size, with
legs and arms drawn together. No signs of clothing were visible on
either, and the flesh appeared to have shrunk away, showing the shape of
every bone. Midway between them lay a rusted pistol and just beyond,
glistening in the faint light, were bits of glass. When his eyes grew
accustomed to the sickening sight he raised them, looked around, and for
the first time saw, a few feet away, a raised, table-like rock, and on
it piles of round dark bits of metal. Taking two steps he stooped, and
picking up one of these pieces held it close to the light. It was a
twenty-dollar gold piece!
Wonder succeeded horror! What mystery was this? Two charred skeletons
beside a pile of gold in this dark and silent cavern! Was it some
infernal dream or a reality? He stooped and picked up more of the coins.
Gold, every one! Then he examined others and found silver dollars and
halves. He turned and looked about, holding one torch above his head,
and almost expecting to see some spectral form half-hid in the shadows.
Only the faintly outlined walls of rock could be seen. Then, feeling
faint and weak from the intense strain, he hastily retraced his steps
down and out of the cave. He was just in time, for the rising tide had
almost cut off his exit. So weak now that he could hardly walk, he crept
around to the keg and sat down to think. Then for the first time he
looked at the sky and saw the sun faintly visible through the fog. What
a blessed sight it was! He had never known before how good the sun
could look to a poor, hungry, horror-struck mortal! Then he picked up a
shell, and pouring a little of the rum out of the keg, drank it. It had
a magic effect, for it brought back his strength and courage and a
realization of what he had discovered. In the dread experiences he had
just passed through, he had not comprehended what it meant to him. Now
he did.
He, alone on that haunted island, abhorred and shunned by all, had found
a fortune!
He drank a little more of the rum. Then he thought of his friends. Maybe
at that very moment they were nearing the island!
He quickly clambered out of the walled-in pocket, and looked over the
ocean. The fog was lifting, the wind rising, but no sail was visible. He
was still a prisoner. Once more he heard that strange bellowing coming
from somewhere beneath the island, but it had lost its terrors. He
thought of those skeletons in the dark cavern, and only felt curious to
know how those two human beings met their death. A thousand bulls, for
aught he cared now, might bellow all they chose, so long as they did not
show their horns above the rocks, and two or two dozen skeletons more or
less in the cave made no difference. He had met and conquered the ghost
of Pocket Island, and was himself once more.
He took one long look all around, where the white, crested waves were
rolling as far as the eye could reach; then at the sun now shining
bright and warm, and then returned to the cave. The entrance was half
under water, but the tide was falling, and he boldly waded in. He was so
eager now he could hardly wait to light a torch, and when once more
inside, he did not even stop to look at the hideous skeletons, but went
directly to the flat rock where the stacks of coin were; removed his
coat, heaped all he could carry upon it, and returned to the sunlight.
Wildly excited now, he carried his bundle to a flat shelf of rock near
where he had first descended into "The Pocket," emptied it and returned
for more. Three trips he made to secure his wondrous find, and when the
last mildewed and tarnished bit of money was secured, he took the pistol
and left the cave for good. Then, feeling a little faint and weak, he
sat down on the shelf beside his pile of gold and silver, and examined
the rusty weapon.
On the stock was engraved the name of "Wolf."
Then, as that miser had many years before stacked and counted those same
pieces of money, so did Manson now stack and count them.
But what a contrast!
Wolf had counted with murder in his heart, and feeling only the miser's
lust of possession as he hid himself in that dark cavern. Manson
counted, thinking only of one good and true girl waiting for him, and
feeling that every one of those bits of money were but so many keys to
open the door of his dream of wife and home and all the blessings he
longed to surround that one loved woman with. And as he counted where
God's sunlight fell upon him, and not in darkness, fearing enemies, so
was that money destined to be a blessing and not a curse. When the count
was made, and that poor, hungry fellow, with naught to aid him in the
battle of life except two hands and a brave heart, found himself the
possessor of sixteen thousand dollars, he felt like offering a prayer of
thankfulness.
He no longer cared that he was faint with hunger, or that he was still a
prisoner on that lone island. All he thought of was to await the coming
of his friends with patience; end his visit as soon as possible; return
to Liddy, and tell her of his wondrous find, and the fortune that was
theirs to enjoy. But he was not to escape that day, for the wind still
blew almost a gale, and the waves still cut him off from rescue. When
the tide fell he dug clams, and when night came he sat by his little
fire, roasted and ate them, and was happy. That night he saw no spectral
shapes or grinning skulls, and when his fire burned low he crept into
his shelter and slept in peace and content. When the morning came only a
summer-day breeze ruffled the ocean, and, most gladsome sight of all,
only a few miles away was the sloop, with all sails set, and heading
directly for the island! When Frank came ashore in the dory there was a
joyful meeting.
"We had to put up sail and run for a harbor to save the sloop when we
saw the fog coming," said Frank, "and leave you behind. It was that or
desert her and come ashore. I am awfully glad to find you safe, though.
Obed waited as long as he dared. Where were you, and what were you doing
so long?"
"Trying to find a ghost," replied Manson, who felt like joking now, "and
I succeeded. I not only found ghosts by the dozen, but two skeletons,
and one or two skulls scattered around to make things more cheerful. Oh,
I've had a real sociable time, I assure you! One of those kind of times
when every way you turn a still more hideous object confronts you; a fit
of the jims minus the fun that goes before it. The first night I was so
scared I didn't sleep a wink, and the spooks were so thick I dared not
turn around for fear of seeing a new one. Your island deserves all that
has been said of it, and a good deal more. I've found what's better than
ghosts, however!"
When Frank had followed his friend over into "The Pocket," and saw what
he had found and heard the marvelous story, he gasped for breath.
"So that is what became of the little Jew smuggler, is it?" he said when
he saw the pistol; "and the story was true after all! My stars! but you
are in luck," he continued, as he looked at the stacks of coin; and
then, slapping Manson on the back, hilariously exclaimed: "Ghost hunting
pays once in a while, old fellow, don't it? Now you can get married and
come down here and stay all next summer, can't you?"
Then the two friends, happy as children escaped from school, returned to
the sloop, and after half-starved Manson had eaten as he never did
before, they all three went ashore and visited the cave.
"As near as I can recall the story," said Frank, when they stood looking
at the skeletons, "there was an Indian who acted as helper for the Jew,
and this tall fellow with the horrible grin may have been that poor
fellow. Most likely they got into a quarrel over the money, and fought
it out to the death. Great Scott! but what a grim duel that must have
been here in this dark cavern!"
When they had looked the cave all over, they carried Manson's strangely
found fortune aboard the sloop, and sailed for home. Two days later he
bade adieu to his friend and departed two weeks sooner than he had
planned, but not until he had made a solemn promise to return the next
summer and bring a companion.