A Fortune Hunter Or The Old Stone Corral Part 23

watermelons from the Mennonites, and hiding Easter eggs, was still strictly orthodox to his boot-heels. "So you think," he continued, "that a human soul may take the form of a panther or a pauper--whichever the spirit most resembles--and be cast and recast over and over again, like an old piece of boiler-iron, until at last it becomes--well, just what, I'd like to know?"

"A good Christian being that progresses towards perfection, and learns wisdom from his former mistakes, I guess," replied Clifford, as they turned the horse into the pasture and sought the house. As they came into the yard, he added: "If there is one spot on the continent that should be haunted, it certainly is the old Stone Corral and the near-by crossing of the Santa Fe and Abilene Trails; for there has been more crime and cruel deviltry committed there than upon any other square mile in the Western world."

The next morning broke with a cloudless sky, balmy and serene. A light wind from the south-west lifted the ribbon of vapor along the Cottonwood, and wafted the fresh and perfumed odors of wild hop-vine and water-mint, desert-sage and sand-plum, over the garden and into the Warlow breakfast-room, where Clifford was narrating to his horrified parents and sister the particulars of that unreal and mystery-wrapped scene which he had witnessed the night before.

"It all looks so unreal in this clear daylight that I am almost ashamed to repeat it," said Clifford, with a nervous laugh; but the hearers knew by the look of earnest gravity on his face that there could have been no mistake or deception as to his witnessing a sight that ever was a mystery to all.

"Well, this is a strange story indeed," said the colonel; "but, my boy, you must have been asleep unconsciously, and when you awoke your mind was in that abnormal state in which an optical illusion would have seemed like reality. An illusion of this nature is very hard to combat, from its very uncertainty; and we can only reason, from general principles, that it was a half-waking dream."

The preparations for the picnic put an end to any further discussion, and at ten the grounds were enlivened by a throng of people, all in their happiest mood and best attire.

When the Estill carriage came on the ground, Clifford hurried forward and a.s.sisted Miss Estill to alight; then, after shaking hands with Mrs.

Estill, who excused her husband's absence by saying that he had not returned from the Comanche Pool, whither he had gone a week before, he found a seat for the elder lady, and disappeared with Mora on the pretext of boat-riding.

They walked in silence to where his boat was tied to the trunk of a weeping elm. As Clifford helped her into the seat, her warm clasp sent a thrill to his heart that caused a hot flush to mount to his face; but it soon receded, leaving him paler and more care-worn than ever. But Mora noticed that his cravat of dainty lawn was tied with that precision only attained by a thorough man of fas.h.i.+on, and the spray of snowy elder-bloom, late but fragrant, combined with a solitary pansy-shaped flower, pale blue with a fleck of gold at the heart, into a _boutonniere_ that denoted a taste refined and fastidious in its wearer.

They shot out into the narrow stream under Clifford's vigorous strokes, and skimmed lightly along through the silver-linked pools, shaded by trees that were smothered by poison-ivy and wild-grape vines, that trailed in the water with their purple-laden tendrils of ripening fruit.

At length they reached the bank near young Warlow's dwelling, after a journey which he thought had lasted for an age, but which, to be correct, was just four minutes in duration. There had been an attempt on her part at conversation, but seeing the far-away look in his eyes and the expression of haggard misery on his white, handsome face, she became more cold and reserved than ever, and sat with averted face, trailing a gaudy cardinal-flower through the water.

On landing, he again encountered her hand, which did not fail to send an electric shock through him, as he a.s.sisted her ash.o.r.e, and for a moment he thought that she held his hand longer than the occasion required, and he raised his eyes to her face with a quick flash of joy; but the downcast look and pale cheeks which he saw, sent the blood back to his heart with a sickening chill, and they walked together in silence up toward his dwelling.

When they reached the house he led the way to the spring and motioning her to a seat under the shade of that giant elm, he drew the wills forth and handed them to her saying:--

"Here, Miss Estill, is what makes you the greatest heiress in this western land!" then, as she silently read them through and lifted a puzzled face to his, he handed her the Journal of Ivarene, and watched breathlessly, while she became flushed and pale by turns while perusing the faded and time-worn paper.

"Ah! poor, ill-fated Ivarene! what could have become of her and that helpless infant,--and brave Bruce too?" she cried, with tears in her eyes.

"The parents were murdered, no doubt, by that mad hunter, and the child was stolen and left at Estill's ranch along with a locket containing the name of Morelia and the pictures of Bruce and Ivarene. The mysterious kinsman buried on the hill-top was Olin Estill, who was only the mad hunter in disguise, who stole that blue-eyed, dark-haired daughter, named Morelia."

"Ah! you believe me to be the daughter of Bruce and his lovely wife!"

said Mora, springing to her feet, while tears rained from her eyes, and her hands were wrung with deep emotion.

"Yes, I am certain that you are Morelia Walraven. I had suspected this from the hour that father called you Ivarene, and I set to work earnestly to recover the lost fortune, which I believed was buried near this spot. I worked faithfully, Miss Estill, to restore it all to you, knowing full well, all the while, that when found it would only widen the gulf between me and the cattle-king's daughter an hundred-fold. I will not dwell on the horrors of that fortune hunt, nor its perils, when I fought that gray-robed demon, which glared at you upon the grave-capped hill; how I struggled with that murderous spectre in the darkness of midnight, after being greeted in a noisome pit by a gigantic rattlesnake, which I slew as it writhed at my feet, with certain death in its fangs; nor the horror I felt when it was dead, at length, to grasp a human skull, that mocked me with eyeless sockets and grinning teeth when I s.n.a.t.c.hed it from the buried cask--hoping I had found the casket of gems.

"But come with me, and I will show you that the Warlow honor and pride is no vain boast; that the poor planter's son can face danger and death for the sake of right alone."

Then, as she followed, pale and trembling, into the room, he threw back the lid of the treasure-chest, and the red gold, the glorious rays from frosty pearls, sparkling diamonds, blood-red rubies, and strange green emeralds mingled, in a dazzling glare, with the sheen of fire-opals and the glint of amethysts of purple, lilac, and rose.

"Here, Morelia Walraven, is your lost treasure, your million of gems and gold, your proud name and ancestral hall, which I restore," as he handed her the deed of Monteluma. "To-morrow I shall leave home and country, friends dearer than life, to prove--to prove to you I am not that vile thing which you take me for--a Fortune Hunter!"

She merely glanced at the pile of dazzling wealth; then raised her eyes that glittered through her tears like the turquois among the gold, and while he poured forth a torrent of hot words that seemed to come from his very soul, her color came and went until a burning blush spread over her face, and in a choking gasp she essayed to speak. When he had ceased, she gazed a moment up into his face, seamed and drawn in lines of white agony, then she cried out:--

"Oh! what do I care for all this dross, whose daughter I may be, or my pride of ancestry? Clifford--oh, Clifford!--you shall never leave me. I will die if you do. I love you! Oh, will I have to say it?--yes, I love you better than all the world beside. No, no! you shall never leave me!"

she said, with her white arms about his neck and her soft, warm cheek pressed close to his; and--and--well, I just skipped out there, leaving them alone with a scene that was growing too unutterably "rich for my blood," to use a Western phrase; but half an hour later, as they strolled back to the boat I overheard him say:--

"But why, my love, did you look so proud and cold in the hall when I came in at your house only the other night?"

"Proud and cold, indeed," she replied, with a gay laugh, as she shot a look of mingled love and amazement into his beaming eyes. "Now, that shows how well you can read a woman's heart, sir. Dear Clifford," she added, tearfully, "do you know, you dear blind boy, that at that very time I was wretched and miserable, and longed to kiss you and say that I had waited for years for just such an ideal as you are?"

"It is not too late now for that!" he cried rapturously, as they pa.s.sed under the boughs of a drooping tree, then followed a sound so explosive that I beat a hasty retreat from such a danger-fraught vicinity, and never came near again until their boat touched sh.o.r.e. Maud came to them as they landed, and said:--

"Where have you been, truants? I have missed you for an hour."

"In paradise," replied Clifford, with such a look of happy abandon that Maud started joyfully; then Mora said, with a blush, as she clasped her arms about the form of delighted Maud:--

"Yes, I have coaxed him to stay forever; but I had to propose to the selfish being before he would promise at all."

Then Maud, seeing the tears of earnestness that began to start, kissed her new sister and Clifford very tenderly, saying, between her smiles and tears:--

"Oh, this is happiness indeed!" which sentiment seemed to be fully shared by the radiant couple whom she addressed.

Maud was not long in finding an excuse to leave the lovers to themselves; and when she had disappeared among the throng, they sauntered on to a secluded seat, under a vine-canopied tree, where the trailing bitter-sweet swept the closely-cropped gra.s.s with its graceful tendrils, loaded with a burden of orange and pink berries. Here, secure from intrusion, they could see the crowd of well-dressed people loitering about in detached groups, but were far enough removed from them to talk in that confidential strain peculiar to newly-mated young people, with no fear of interruption.

"When shall we reveal to your parents the discoveries which I disclosed to you to-day, Mora?" said Clifford, in a low tone.

"Let us be in no haste, Clifford," she replied; "for father is away, and mother would be unnerved and agitated at the revelation. Then we will have several guests to entertain for the next week, as Mrs. Potter and Miss Hanford will remain with us after the picnic. So I believe it would be best to defer it for a week or two."

"But what shall be done in the meantime with the treasure, Mora dear?

There is a million dollars in gold and gems lying there in that chest. I tremble to think what the result might be if its existence were suspected in such an unprotected spot."

"Well, sir, you must nerve yourself to the task of not only caring for it, but of me also in the future," she replied, with a furtive caress; and, judging from his looks, he appeared to be equal to the latter responsibility at least.

"I have made arrangements to start to Abilene in the morning to commute my homestead and secure a t.i.tle to it before the great sale of public lands Monday, which, it is said, will be sold at a very low figure," he replied, returning her caress with compound interest.

"Clifford, it looks mercenary and not at all sentimental for us to talk of business at such a time; but still we can love one another no less for that. The time is very short before that sale. It is a critical moment. I advise you to buy all the land that you can Monday; it will be very valuable soon," she said, with that mingling of sentiment and business peculiar to Western women.

"I shall invest what little I possess in that way, Mora; it is secure at least. I have always longed to own more of the land to the north of the corral; and this is, as you say, a golden opportunity to acquire it."

Then there was silence for a moment as Clifford sadly thought how little he really had for investment compared to the h.o.a.rd that was lying useless in the chest. His father's gold was there still, but he had no real claim upon it ("I must deliver it to-night," he mentally concluded); and an involuntary sigh escaped him at the thought that strangers yet might control all that rolling, fertile prairie to the north, which he had vainly dreamed of owning.

As if divining his thoughts, Mora quickly said, as her hand sought his own with a gentle clasp:--

"Why not use some of that idle treasure for this purpose, Clifford? If it is mine, as it really seems to be, there will be no harm in investing part of it in that way. The emergency is great for decision and swift action, so I really believe you should take a large sum along for that purpose, not less than fifty thousand dollars of the recovered treasure, at least."

"You dear, clear-headed little woman!" he replied radiantly; "that is a capital plan indeed; so, if you think it best, I will take that sum with me, and invest it in land for your benefit."

"No, no; you misunderstand me, Clifford; it is for your benefit that I made the suggestion. You may take it as a loan, and repay me some time in the future," she added, demurely.

He was on the point of making some laughing rejoinder, when he started at the recollection that it seemed like fate when he recalled the loan of exactly fifty thousand dollars which Ivarene had tendered his father, of which Mora was in total ignorance. Then, in a low tone, he told her of the strange coincidence, where history was repeating itself; but he had not finished the story when a summons to dinner was heard, and he accompanied Mora to the Estill carriage, finis.h.i.+ng the recital as they walked slowly thither.

There were several guests cl.u.s.tered about the carriage, and Clifford accepted an invitation to remain for dinner, which Mrs. Estill gave him, and with Mora and young Downels, Miss Hanford and Mrs. Potter, Clifford was soon busy helping to spread the dinner on the snowy cloth beneath the shade of a dense-foliaged elm. When the hampers were unpacked and they were all seated upon the gra.s.s about the cloth, it was evident that the Estills could not be taxed with the sin of inhospitality, for they had brought enough in their hampers for an extra dozen guests.

There was boned turkey, hinting of sweet marjoram, garnished with quivering moulds of cherry-jelly; chicken salad, with sprays of parsley; tankards of silver and gla.s.s, filled with creamy milk; tall gla.s.ses of jelly--pink, amber, and crimson; pyramids of cake, bronzed and frosty, that conveyed a faint suspicion they were only meant for show; great baskets of silver, marvels of frostwork on flower and vine, piled high with purple grapes, peaches of white and crimson, and golden oranges,--all of which, alas! were the contribution of far-off California.

Young Downels sat near Mora, who was as fascinating and gracious as ever; but Clifford felt a contentment and trust too deep for jealousy, and was gay and witty to such a degree that Downels began to have a suspicion of the true situation, which was in no wise allayed when he saw their eyes meet in a quick flash of love and admiration; so he speedily transferred his attentions to Miss Hanford, who seemed not at all averse to receiving them "_ad infinitum_."

An afternoon of unalloyed bliss followed, and when our hero placed Mora in the carriage, he had given her a promise to ride down on his return from Abilene, the following week; then, as the stately barouche rolled away, he hurried homeward to complete his preparations for to-morrow's journey.

At the supper-table, which was spread at a later hour than usual, Colonel Warlow looked grave and care-worn, while his wife was sad and thoughtful, remembering that Clifford was to leave them, perhaps forever, and this was his last night under the home-roof, a delusion which he was soon to dispel. Maud's face wore a look of cheerfulness which puzzled her parents, who had not witnessed their son's manoeuvres during the day; and Rob's eyes fairly danced with suppressed excitement.