"Oh! they were murdered by the wild hunter,--and this is all that
remains to tell the fate of our father's friends," cried Maud,
tearfully. "But do you think, Clifford--" She paused a moment, leaving
her question unfinished; then, springing to her feet in wildest
excitement, she exclaimed:--
"We have been blind--blind! but it is all clear now!" and as Rob stood
by, dumb with astonishment, she said, in a hoarse whisper, while she
wrung her hands in the intensity of her great emotion: "Bruce's
daughter--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 her
all my life. There seemed to be a look of recognition beaming from the
eyes of Mora Estill that has haunted me for months. My God! is it
possible I have only known her three short weeks? it seems like an
eternity," said Clifford, in a musing tone, while Rob exclaimed,
hurriedly:--
"That mad hunter was Olin Estill; and it was he who must have stolen
Mora at the cavern from Ivarene, and left her at the Estill Ranch before
he met his tragic fate. His is the haunted, lonesome grave on the
hill-top, of which Mora spoke."
"But, oh, what a terrible retribution!--his limbs torn away by
wrangling wolves, and his grinning skull left bleaching on the wild
prairie," 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 of
madness, could have crept back and poisoned them, and then stolen the
child?"
"Ah! it is too sad to contemplate," she replied. "Their fate would have
been worse than death; for I now remember having read how ill-starred
Carlotta, Maximilian's unhappy empress, was poisoned by some terrible
Mexican drug, and all the world knows of her hopeless madness, which
will last until death."
"I shudder to think who that gray-robed, ghastly creature, with its
tangled locks and glassy eyes, may be," said Clifford, hoarse with
emotion.
"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 with
the smiling, handsome lover in the flower-entwined balcony of Monteluma.
"I will go and take a more extended search up at that cavern," said
Clifford. "It may be possible to make some more discoveries. But let us
keep this matter secret, and when our parents are willing to give us
their confidence, then we will divulge it, but not before," to which the
others agreed; and while Maud was still cautioning him to be very
careful of danger, our young hero rode up by his dwelling, then galloped
rapidly along the winding pathway to the cliff where the cavern was
concealed.
Alighting, and securing his horse to a low plum-tree in the thicket, he
went to the door of the cell, and, finding all as he had left it, began
searching 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; for
he had got a very clear glimpse of that villain's nature, when he read
the 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 treasure
after he had induced his confederate in crime, Eagle Beak (who was, no
doubt, an Indian chief), to decoy the Indians away to Pawnee Rock. The
wretch must have decided to poison Eagle Beak when he marked the letter
over, 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 he
would never have been able to read," thought Clifford; but as he knew a
great many half-breeds had become prominent Indian chiefs, he reconciled
this fact with the position which that marauder held. Allowing such to
have been the case, young Warlow knew that he could have been no match
in cunning deviltry for the educated scoundrel, Estill; so he must
certainly have fallen into the diabolical trap which the latter villain
had laid for him, and, with all his Indians, he had drunk himself to
madness and death from the flasks and jugs of drugged and poisoned
liquor. They had all shared a common fate long before reaching that
towering and legendary land-mark of Pawnee Rock. All the actors in that
dire 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 rightful
heir, Mora Estill," said Clifford aloud, as he clenched his hand, and
the blood surged to his face in a crimson glow.
The gold, he believed, had been hastily buried near the Stone Corral by
the leaders while the savages were stupefied with liquor; but the casket
of gems, our hero believed, was concealed in the cavern; so it was with
a wildly beating heart that our young friend began searching the mouldy
pallet of straw, but nothing rewarded his scrutiny.
He had provided himself with a large dirk-knife, which his father had
carried in the turbulent mining days, and with the heavy metal handle of
the weapon Clifford proceeded to sound the walls of the cavern; but no
hollow echo replied, to betray the cavity which he hoped to discover.
The fire-place, chimney, and the ceiling, also were subjected to the
same 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 the
stone seemed to be a solid sheet of limestone, on which the hilt of the
weapon rang with a clear, metallic clang, resonant but disheartening.
Hastily removing the old mattress, young Warlow resumed his
explorations; and as he vainly searched the floor his heart sank like
lead, and he paused to wipe the cold sweat from his face before
finishing the last remaining spot in one corner. A feeling of dread and
apprehension overcame him, and he shrank from the ordeal. Hope deferred
began to dampen the enthusiasm of our young "Fortune Hunter," and he
could scarcely summon his courage to the final test of searching that
one 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 bound
madly in his veins; for the hollow sound which the blow elicited proved
that the hidden cavity was reached at last.
The bottom of the cavern was thickly incrusted with filth and damp earth
at that place; but he dug with frantic energy, and soon the dim outline
of a square flag-stone was visible. Breathless and panting, young Warlow
pried at the stone, and as it slowly arose he closed his eyes, as if
fearing to glance down into the cavity below.
"Ah, if this is the casket of gems, Mora will be the greatest heiress in
all the land, and the gulf which the riches of the cattle-king made
between myself and her will only be widened by this great wealth,"
Clifford thought; and he now, for the first time, regretted having come
out on a search which might lead to his life-long misery.
For one moment the tempter whispered in his ear; but quickly the Warlow
honor 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 worse
than a frown, she could easily relent.
Catching up the papers and casket, he sprang across the room to the door
with a hoarse cry of delight. Upon the decayed old parchment he could
only discern one faint word, Monteluma; then the casket dropped from his
nerveless grasp and fell to the stone floor with a crash.
An exclamation of delight escaped him as the gems which had fallen upon
the floor, flashed back the sun-rays in scintillating splendor, and the
low, dull room was lit by a glare like the lightning-riven storm-cloud.
It was a scene of bewildering beauty--of fascinating splendor--that met
his 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 by
the amethysts of rose, purple, and lilac; while the lurid, baleful fire
of opals and emeralds flickered and glimmered in the sunlight.
Stooping down, young Warlow gathered up the priceless gems, trembling
meanwhile at the strange, unreal event, and after securely placing them
again within the casket, and rearranging the room, he mounted his horse
and 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 slender
love-vine, or bruised the mignonette until all the moist, sultry air was
rich with its pungent fragrance, Clifford was revolving in his mind
several plans for concealing the mighty treasure of which he had just
become the guardian. He concluded that he must find a secure
hiding-place at his dwelling, where the casket might remain until the
proper moment should arrive when he could reveal the discovery, and
restore the property to its rightful owner.
On arriving at his dwelling, Clifford tied his horse in the stable, then
entered the house, locking the door and drawing the blinds, so as to be
safe 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 old
plantation home, and supplied with easy chairs, a book-case, well
filled, and some good paintings, which were gifts from his early
friends.
This room was the gathering-place for the men and boys of Clifford's
neighborhood on rainy days and lonesome Sundays, and here it was that he
spent most of his leisure time in reading or study.
At length he arose and went to the attic, from which place he soon
returned with a case of tools. Then, taking up the carpet in the corner
of the room, he sawed out a place in the floor large enough to admit the
strong, iron-bound chest, which he had dragged out from the adjoining
room.
After hastily tacking some cleats on the boards, which he had sawed out
of the floor, thus providing a lid for the cavity, he placed the chest
within the aperture. The bottom of the strong box rested on the earth
below, and its top came nearly even with the floor. In a small
compartment of this chest young Warlow placed the jewels; then he paused
awhile to look at the roll of parchments.
These documents proved to be the patents to the estate of Monteluma, and
Clifford could dimly see the signatures of Charles V and Philip II, with
the broad seal of the Spanish crown on the mildewed, discolored, yet
precious parchments.
There was, in addition, a large envelope, heavily sealed, on which the
superscription was quite dim. In the waning light young Warlow failed to
decipher it; but promising himself that he would soon examine this
mystery-hinting missive at greater leisure, he placed all the papers in
the chest, which he securely locked, closed the trap-door, and tacked
down the carpet; then, fastening up the house with great care, he
hurried down to his father's dwelling.