The listeners had seated themselves on the buffalo-robes which Scott Moreland's thoughtfulness had provided, and the colonel resumed the thread of his narrative.
"The blow was followed by unconsciousness, and when I awoke, as it were, from a long and fevered sleep, I was seated in an easy-chair on a shaded veranda, and before me stretched the limitless ocean, its restless waves purling in foam on the sandy beach at my feet. Beside the porch on which I was seated grew luxuriant lime and orange trees, loaded with fruit and bloom, and the air was heavy with the sensuous odors of tropical flowers.
"A ray of memory gleamed feebly across my confused and cloudy mind, and I vaguely wondered why my hands should be so wasted and thin. Then a wavering sensation swept over my mental faculties like a dark cloud. The glimmer of memory once again struggled and flickered, then flashed forth with a dazzling light, piercing through the fog and haze which had so long obscured the light of reason, and I felt as if the sun had just arisen.
"As I sat with closed eyes, gently rocking to and fro, I remembered dimly, like some half-forgotten dream, my long journey across the continent with Walraven, our camping beside the Kansas stream at the Stone Corral; and then with surprise I looked out on the ocean before me. Suddenly the memory of that night of horror came vividly to my mind, and with a loud cry I sprang to my feet; but a firm hand was laid on my shoulder, and a kind voice requested me to be calm, and pressed me to drink the glass of wine which was held to my lips.
"I obeyed mechanically, and as I drained the cup of its sparkling contents I glanced up at the bronzed though handsome stranger beside me, who, with joy and gratification beaming in his blue eyes, said in answer to my look of inquiry:—
"'Old boy, you will soon be yourself again; but you must not talk too much, nor ask questions just now.'
"'But where am I, and what does it all mean?' I exclaimed in a dazed sort of way.
"'You are near Los Angeles, and this is the Pacific Ocean which lies before you,' he answered slowly.
"When he had made this strange statement, I felt a wavering sensation once more cross my brain, as if madness were about to seize me.
"'You should not talk, nor think of the past,' said he anxiously, 'but brace up and recover; then we will go up to the mines, and dig out nuggets like nigger-heads.'
"'But at least tell me how I came here,' I entreated.
"'Well,' said he in a faltering manner, 'if you will be composed I will do so; but you must not give way to your emotions.'
"I sank back in the chair, motioning for him to proceed, as the suspense was unbearable; and he then related the following, in soothing tones, like one who had long humored and tenderly nursed a suffering invalid:—
"'My name is Roger Coble, and my home is near Springfield, Ill., from which place I started to the gold-fields of the Sacramento River, which had thrown our quiet rural community into a great excitement by the rumor of their fabulous richness. Our train had only traveled a few days' drive westward from the Missouri, when we came to the Stone Corral on the bank of the Cottonwood. There we found you, wounded and delirious. I placed you on a canvas bed in one of my wagons, and brought you on to Santa Fe.
"'As you were still delirious and in a helpless condition, I could not bear the thought of leaving you at the latter place, but brought you along with the train to this place, where we arrived last week, and I am overjoyed to see you on your feet again.'
"'But what was the fate of Walraven and his wife?' I cried, in great excitement.
"Seeing the wild look again coming into my eyes, he said, with a saddened expression:—
"'Do not ask any more questions, my boy. When you become stronger I will tell you all. But now, my friend, do try to think of pleasanter themes. If you do not, you will surely relapse into your former deplorable state.'
"Therefore I took his kindly advice, and ignored the past with all its bitter memories, and listened with growing interest to his hopeful plans for the future. As he told of the great gold-fields that had been discovered in the newly acquired California, that were of such fabulous richness, he said, that all the world was wild with excitement and wonder, I began to feel the infection of his enthusiasm, and almost forgot the fact that I was penniless and two thousand miles from home.
"The next day I felt still stronger; but the ugly wound on my head was not yet entirely healed, being a painful reminder of the terrible blow which I had received the night of the attack at the corral.
"As the days passed by I rapidly convalesced, and erelong was able to walk through the orange-groves, or sail with Roger out on the tranquil water; but whenever I had nerved myself up to the point of asking the fate of my friends, to my horror I would find that same old sickening, wavering sensation steal over my brain that I remembered so well, and I would shudder to think that I stood, as it were, upon the brink of madness.
"So in our long rambles on the sea-shore or drives on the beach, we shunned all allusion to the fateful past, tacitly ignoring the unexplained sequel to that terrible tragedy; but the suspense and strain were so great that it is a blissful thing that events followed which diverted my mind from the painful subject, or perhaps my reason may have been utterly overthrown.
"Roger had disposed of his teams, and, after consulting me, procured tickets to San Francisco, a small village that had sprung up on the coast to the north, and as he gave me my ticket he said with a smile:—
"'We will be pards, George, and divide profit and loss up in the mines, and when you strike it "rich," why, you can repay me; and as for interest—guess we will smoke that out at your expense.'
"I replied, through my tears, that all the gold of this earth could not repay his kindness and generosity.
"Before sailing on the Lapwing I wrote to my friends in Missouri, telling them briefly of the disaster which had befallen me, but that I was with the best fellow alive; and in my letter to sister Amy I told her how nobly Roger had cared for me in my direst hour of trial and need, and I hinted that she must wait for me to bring him back, which I would do when I had regained my lost fortune by working in the mines, to which we were now just starting, full of hope and enthusiasm.
"Our first day out on the Pacific proved that body of water to be woefully misnamed indeed; for the weather was just as vile and fickle as I ever saw on the much maligned Atlantic. In the evening Roger and myself were seated on deck, watching the sun set in a pile of black clouds, which, as the broad streams of amber and violet flamed up from behind the sombre mass, slowly changed to purple, rose, and crimson, edged with gold.
"When the brilliant hues had faded, the dusky clouds rested on a sullen sea, that was only ruffled by the fitful breeze, which rose and fell, then died away, leaving a death-like calm, oppressive as it was foreboding.
"The frightened sea-birds flew screaming by, flapping their broad white wings, then fading swiftly away. The captain now came on deck, and, by his quick orders and restless movements, we knew that he anticipated danger from the storm which we could see rapidly rising, and the rigging was soon in order to meet the heavy gale.
"A fiery moon rose in the pale eastern sky, and out to the south-west hung the bow-shaped cloud, black as ebony, save when veined by the blood-red lightning; but as the majestic mass towered to the zenith, it changed to green, edged by a roll of fleecy white, which rose and fell as if weaving a shroud for sea and sky.
"We lashed ourselves to the rigging, so we could get the full benefit, as Roger said, of our first storm at sea. We had not long to wait, for soon a wall of waves, like a troop of war-horses, came tossing their snowy manes on the gale, and when the mad surge struck us the old ship quivered in every timber. The clouds wrapped us about, and the blinding spray and rain drenched the deck; the lightning glimmered fitfully through the mist, or hissed in zigzag streams of molten gold along the surging waves. A lull, then again the blinding flash, followed by the bellowing thunder, crashing down, it seemed, to the caverns beneath, the wind shrieking through the rigging, the tumult of waves, rising in hoarse clamor and deafening roar—followed again by blinding stroke and maddening crash.
"I have stood on old Chapultepec's crumbling wall, when mortar and cannon hurled their iron hail; when screaming shells and belching roar mingled with the shrieks of mangled and dying men, and the sullen boom of exploding mines shocked and dulled the ear; but never had I known an hour like this.
"The poor old vessel, like a hunted doe, bounded away, followed by all the hounds of the gale, climbing the dizzy cliff or leaping the yawning chasm, and throwing the foam from off her sides; then hiding in the gorges below, where the glassy wall towered far above with combing crest, scattering the spray out over the tossing sea. Again, as the ship climbed the watery hill, she seemed to pause one brief moment on the foamy height, then plunged into the swishing whirlpool beneath.
"The night wore on, yet still our vessel staggered along in her wild flight; but the winds began to abate their fury somewhat, and the flashes grew more dim and fitful until the storm rolled away to the east. Then the moon peered with white face through the rift of clouds; but as her spectral light only served to make more weird and appalling the waste of heaving billows, she quickly hid behind her fleecy veil, as if to shut the wild scene from view.
"Although the wind had died to a gentle gale, the frightened waves still galloped madly along as though fleeing from a grizzly horror they dared not face, and the ship labored like some jaded cavalry horse, that staggers and reels after the fierce charge.
"The deck had been a scene of great confusion ever since the storm had abated, and, although the waves and spray broke over the vessel, the crew were rushing about wildly, and to our surprise we saw them launching the boats; so we unlashed ourselves and hurried forward—only to hear the despairing cry: 'The vessel is sinking!'
"I looked out upon the waves, which even now seemed nearer, and with a clammy shudder comprehended what horror they were fleeing. Death rode those cold waters, and every billow was a yawning grave.
"What a dread alternative—to cast ourselves out on that boiling, foaming sea, with only a frail boat between us and eternity, or remain on deck and feel the ship slowly settling under us!
"But the boats were quickly manned, and into them were thrown a few casks of spirits and water, with a small quantity of food; then we pushed off from the fast-sinking ship, and in a moment were riding the waves.
"We had left a light burning on the vessel, to enable us to steer away from it, and thus avoid being run down or ingulfed by the final whirlpool of the wreck; and after tossing about on the troubled waters for half an hour, trying to keep the boats together, we heard a loud report, caused by the compressed air blowing up the deck of the vessel; then the light on the old ship went out forever, and the sea closed over her shattered form.
"It may have been an hour before dawn, when suddenly we found ourselves among the breakers, and the coast looming dimly through the mist. Before we had time to realize our situation our boat was capsized and we were struggling with the waves.
"I shouted to Roger, but no answer. Then I saw a head appear above the water, and swam toward it, hoping it was he; but the form was carried around the headland by the rapid current, so I struck out for the frowning cliff.
"Diving under the largest waves, I saw, to my great joy, that I was gaining and soon was thrown on the rocks with terrible force; but I lost my hold on the stony ledge that I had clutched, and was being carried back to sea; but a thought struck me which I instantly recognized as being the only chance of escape, and to which I am certain I owe the preservation of my life: I dived to the bottom, and began walking toward the cliff, which was not more than a rod away.
"Oh, the horror and agony of those few moments under the sea! The seconds seemed to lengthen to hours. Brief as the time and short as the distance may have been, I've traveled many a thousand miles through the sandy deserts of the West and suffered less than in that one minute at the bottom of the ocean."
"Let me see—where was I?" said the colonel, who had paused to light his pipe at this critical juncture of the narrative.
"Twenty thousand leagues under the sea," replied Grace Moreland, gaily.
"Well, I certainly could not have suffered more in the same time if I had been," said he with a grim smile. "But just when I had given up all hope, and thought my lungs would burst, I straightened up, determined to come to the surface at any risk. Lo! I had been groping along in four feet of water—and only a step from the shore!
"I had only time to plunge forward and clutch a jagged rock, when a mighty wave swept in, nearly tearing me from my place; but this time I held fast, and when the wave had receded I clambered up out of further danger, and there I lay, too utterly exhausted to move until dawn.
"I had hoped that daylight would reveal the presence of my companion; but the sun struggled up over a lone stretch of rocky, barren shore—nothing living was visible. I strained my eyes, gazing out over the long line of breakers. It was a fruitless quest; I was alone.
"Then I climbed up to the table-land. A sandy plain, broken by patches of sage-brush and thickets of chapparal was before me, and out toward the rising sun rose a lofty chain of mountains, as though to shut me out from all the world.
"I walked around the promontory and along the coast for several miles, still hoping I might find my friend; in vain. I shouted repeatedly; no answer. So with a heavy heart I turned and walked inland.
"After assuaging my thirst at a cavity in the rocks, where the rain-water had collected, and satisfying my hunger with the eggs of a wild fowl, the nest of which I found near a sage-brush, I continued my explorations inland toward a pass which seemed to open in the mountains toward the east.
"As I neared the glen, trees, a brook, and a flock of sheep became visible. Then, to my great delight, a house showed through the trees; and when a woman appeared in the doorway, I hurried forward and addressed her in Spanish, to which she replied in the same tongue.
"I told my story of shipwreck, and the kind-hearted peasant woman bade me welcome to the humble dwelling, and proceeded to set before me a repast of omelet and frijoles. While I was still seated at the table, her husband, Pedro, came in from herding his flock, and we soon were on our way to the village to make inquiries regarding my lost friend and the crew of the Lapwing. But nothing could be learned of them; so I retired to rest, and that night slept the dreamless sleep of sheer exhaustion.
"In the morning I renewed the search, but with no better results; and although I traveled along the coast for more than a score of miles, nothing could be found but the bodies of three sailors that I recognized as having been among the crew of the ill-fated ship. At last, weary and heart-sore, I joined a party of miners, and proceeded to San Francisco; but as my inquiries there also proved fruitless, I immediately went to the diggings, where my fortunes soon mended, and I was able to send a small purse to honest Pedro.
"During my stay in the mines I had frequent letters from home, and sister Amy expressed great sorrow at the fate of my noble friend Roger; but I wrote that it might yet be possible he was living, and we still hoped on. The greatest comfort to me, however, were the letters from Mary, who urged me to return and not wait to acquire more gold; and as my luck was 'jes powerful,' as the miners averred, I found at the end of two years I had saved $50,000, and deciding to 'let well-enough alone,' set sail for home.
"As we were sailing out through the now world-renowned Golden Gate, the captain, to whom I had just intrusted my money, remarked that I did not seem to enter into the spirit of joy that pervaded the throng of returning miners; and in reply to his look of inquiry and tone of interest, I said that the last time I was on a ship I had witnessed a terrible storm, in which the vessel was wrecked, the crew and a dear, kind friend were lost, and I alone was saved; and now the sight of the ocean, once again, recalled it all so vividly that I was sad and grieved, even in the hour when I should rejoice that all my toil was over. I was too affected to talk further, but looked wistfully out over the cruel sea that had closed over Roger, my best and truest friend.
"The captain, after a few moments of silence, asked in a tone of sympathy:—
"'What was the name of the vessel that was wrecked?'
"'The Lapwing,' I replied.
"'But the crew and passengers were saved,' said he quickly.
"'Saved!—Roger saved!' I shouted, dizzy with joy; then as I sank into a seat, weak and unnerved, the officer continued:—
"'Yes, the crew was saved. They were picked up by a vessel bound for Acapulco. You can learn the particulars by calling on the American consul at that port, as I believe he took charge of them and assisted them on to their respective destinations.'
"'I'll give you a thousand gold dollars to put me off at Acapulco,' I cried impulsively.
"'Agreed,' said he, with a laugh. 'We always do stop there, and take a day to revictual and water. No, my friend, keep your hard-earned dollars; but if you find your gratitude burdensome, why, just name your next boy after me;' then he left me with a good-natured smile.
"I will say that I found it a very pleasant way of discharging the debt by naming my oldest son here after the good old sea-dog, Captain Clifford; and some way I always associate the name with the thought of that day when I heard the good news.
"How interminable seemed the long, bright days, as we sailed southward! I paced the deck for hours, and grew morose and nervous, chafing under the slowness of the stout craft. 'But all things have an end'—an adage, by the way, which my dealings and travel in the tropics has led me to doubt—and when, one evening, we sailed into the long-wished for harbor, I was so impatient to land that only the thought of sharks prevented me from swimming ashore.
"After night-fall, however, I found myself in a crooked, winding alley, termed a street in the florid courtesy of that tropic land, and offering a coin to a villainous-looking native—the only guide I could procure—asked him to show me the way to the American consulate; and we were soon en route thitherward, I, meanwhile, taking the precaution to cover my vile-looking guide with a pistol in one hand and a bowie-knife in the other.
"For an age, it seemed, we tramped through the murky, unlighted streets, until at last we arrived before a fortress-like building, at the gate of which blinked one solitary lamp.
"At my request to see the consul, the servant informed me that 'his worshipful master had driven out this morning to dine with the noble Don Pablo de Zorilla, and that he would remain to the ball at the mansion of that illustrious senor,' etc.
"I could barely refrain from kicking the miserable flunky, and the air grew thick and maroon with the expressions in which my disappointment found utterance. Telling the porter that I hoped his lazy master would not stop the 'wheels of commerce' to-morrow to eat garlic and capsicum with the aristocracy, I returned to the vessel."
"Next morning I called again at the consulate, and the scowling porter, after conducting me to a room, said that his master was sleeping, but he was instructed to say 'to the insolent American' that his excellency 'was too lazy to see me until he had slept off the effect of the garlic, capsicum, and other kindred delicacies, of which he had been partaking.' Then, grinning derisively, the servant left the room, banging the door behind him.
"Well, I just stormed up and down that room for two long hours, fuming, raving, and hurling invectives at all the tribe of official sluggards. At length, hearing footsteps without, I clenched my hands in rage, vowing wrath and vengeance on the insulting and self-sufficient officer; but when the servant opened the door and announced, 'Senor Consul,' my anger was all forgotten, and, instead of greeting that functionary with a thwack on the ear, I sprang forward with a wild cry:—
"'Roger—Oh, Roger—am I dreaming?'
"'George—George—is it possible? Alive and well? I've mourned you as dead for years. Thank God—at last!'
"As I stood there wringing his hand and gazing on his dear face through my tears, it is needless to say all my belligerent designs oozed magically away.
"We were soon interrupted, however, by the porter, who, at the first strange demonstration on my part, had fled shrieking 'Murder! murder!' his outcry bringing a whole brood of slipshod servants down upon my devoted head. They came swarming in, armed with gridirons, tongs, and gourds. One sallow, emaciated peon carried a crucifix, which he had evidently snatched as he flew to the rescue. A burly fellow was just on the eve of disemboweling me with a pot-metal poniard, when Roger hastened to explain that we were old friends who had not met for years, and as they retreated in a crestfallen manner, with many grunts and shrugs, we both smiled at the ludicrous phase of our meeting; yes, I believe that 'smiled' is a very mild term to apply to our hilarity on that occasion.
"Reminding Roger that the vessel sailed at four P. M., and my stay therefore was limited, I begged him to tell me the particulars of his happy escape, and when we were comfortably seated on the easy-chairs in the secluded court, he told briefly how he, with several others, clung to the capsized boat, and had been rescued by a passing vessel, bound southward. On reaching Acapulco he had called at the American consulate, but found the consul prostrated with yellow-fever, and (as Roger had passed through an attack of that dread scourge at New Orleans a few years previous to this) he had volunteered to nurse the stricken officer, who slowly recovered from the fearful malady.
"While that grateful invalid was convalescing, Roger had been intrusted with the accumulated business of the post. Having discharged the duties devolving on him to the satisfaction of his employer, that gentleman had deputized him as vice-consul, and then returned to the States.
"Finally the consul resigned, and Roger, on his recommendation, was appointed to the office as his successor, meantime receiving a hint from the home government to make himself as agreeable as possible to the natives.
"'Which you see, George,' said he with a merry smile, 'meant to acquire a taste for "garlic and capsicum."'
"Then, at his request, I related my experience; how I had searched in vain for him along the coast; had gone to the mines and made my 'pile,' and on embarking for home had learned of the rescue of the crew and passengers of the Lapwing; the long days of suspense that had followed, and my impatience to learn something of his fate. I did not omit telling how narrowly he escaped a sound flogging at my hands after I had been kept waiting so long, which caused him great merriment.
"During our brief conversation I had been conscious of an undercurrent of burning anxiety to learn the fate of Bruce Walraven and his wife. The suspense and uncertainty which had haunted me for two long years—the mystery of their fate—would now vanish forever, I knew; but I shrank with a strange foreboding from asking the truth which my heart had so long been vainly seeking. My dry lips and parched tongue could only feebly articulate as I begged Roger to tell me the sequel of that terrible tragedy at the Old Corral.
"With a look of pain on his handsome face, he said, in a faltering voice:—
"'I was journeying along on the Santa Fe Trail from Independence, Missouri, to California. Our large train had been delayed at Council Grove by a rumor that the Cheyennes were on the war-path; but nothing having been seen of the marauders, we started out, after a few days, trusting to our numbers for defense, and when we arrived at the Stone Corral, on the bank of the Cottonwood, a scene of revolting horror met our startled sight—a scene that will live forever in my memory.
"'The stone walls of the corral had been hurled down, and near the side of the stream were the charred and crisped remains of at least fifty human victims, mingled with the irons of the wagons, which evidently had been fired and the bodies thrown into the blaze.'
"'There were fifty-four persons in our train—How many bodies were found?' I asked, breathlessly.
"'We counted the smouldering skeletons, and found that fifty-three persons had fallen victims to the diabolical fury of the Indians.'
"'Oh, God—all gone!' I cried, hoarse with the misery of their certain destruction—'gallant Bruce and beautiful, kind Ivarene! What a terrible fate!'
"'We were burying the skeletons on a knoll a few hundred paces westward from the Old Corral,' continued Roger, 'and were carrying stone from the confused mass of its ruined wall to place about the long trench, in which the remains were laid, when moans, like some one in pain, were heard as if issuing from the earth.
"'The mournful scene through which we had just passed had so utterly shocked and unnerved us, that it is little wonder we felt it might be the spectres of the victims still haunting the scene of the awful tragedy; but a moment's reflection set us to searching among the ruins, which resulted in our finding you, wounded and delirious, buried under the fallen wall.
"'Several large stones had rested against the lower part of the wall, and thus, in a providential manner, shielded you from the avalanche of stone which had fallen when the savages had thrown down the wall by prying with the wagon tongues, that were still lying about as they had left them.
"'We placed you on a canvas stretcher, and put you in one of my wagons. As there was a physician in our train, you did not lack for medical attention; but that dreadful gash on your head was very slow in healing. As your mind was completely shattered, and you remained delirious all the long journey to Santa Fe, we could not bear the thought of leaving you there among strangers, but brought you on to Los Angeles with the train.'
"'I never before have told you, Roger, that there was more than one hundred thousand dollars in gold and gems with our train; but such was the case;' and as he sprang up in amazement, I told him briefly the history of Bruce and Ivarene, and how I had lost my fortune of fifty thousand dollars in gold with that of my dear friends on that night of horror and despair.
"'It is needless to say,' replied Roger, 'that no trace of the treasure was found; but it seems incredible that so vast a sum could have been carried away by the savages! Did you have any liquor with the train?' he asked in a thoughtful manner.
"'Yes, several barrels of wine and brandy,' I answered.
"'Then that accounts for the blood on the grass, near several newly made graves close by. The Indians had found the brandy, no doubt, and the massacre ended in a drunken row among themselves, in which several of them had died a violent death. It is a mystery, though,' he added, 'how a pack of drunken, wrangling savages could have divided such an amount of coin without leaving some trace. And, George, I would advise you to make a systematic search on your return,' he continued; 'for it may have been that the treasure was buried there.'"
"Did you ever make the search?" asked Clifford Warlow of his father, in an eager tone.
"No; certainly not," replied the colonel; "it would have been folly to suppose that the band of pilfering, murderous savages would have left anything valuable behind."
But the answer did not satisfy his son, who looked out toward the knoll where the Old Corral, with its broken walls, cast long shadows in the slanting sunbeams; and as the colonel proceeded with his story it was noticed, by more than one of the group, that Sabbath afternoon, that Clifford remained lost in thought, and his eyes roamed from the speaker out over the scene of that tragedy of bygone years.
"At the end of that mournful story," pursued the colonel, "I was pressed by Roger to remain with him until the next vessel passed; but I declined, thanking him, and telling him that Mary was waiting for me on the banks of the Missouri, and I could tarry no longer than a few brief hours, until the craft would sail. Then, as we stood on the ship, whither he had accompanied me, I told him to remain in the cabin for a moment until I could return. Then going to the captain, I asked him for the money which I had deposited with him.
"The fifty thousand dollars was carried into the room where Roger was waiting, and when the sailors had retired, I said, in answer to his look of inquiry, that I was prepared to execute the compact which we entered into at Los Angeles, to be 'pards,' and divide profit and loss; and I tendered him there on the spot twenty-five thousand dollars, which was one-half of my savings in the mines. Roger would not hear to the proposition; he scouted the idea of 'robbing me of my hard earnings,' and all my pleadings were in vain,—he was obdurate.
"I reminded him how I owed my life to his care and kindness; but my entreaties all were unavailing, as he would only ridicule the offer, saying that he had now more than enough for an old bachelor. So I finally desisted, but told him that should he ever need assistance or the services of a friend, to call on me, for I felt a debt of gratitude which I could never repay him.
"I smile even yet to think how I blushed when I showed him Mary's picture; and while he was looking with undisguised admiration at the miniature of sister Amy, I told him how she had never ceased to regret his sad fate, and that in her last letter, which I handed him, she had written that she still vaguely hoped he might some time return; that he may have escaped—'such things sometimes do occur—and she could yet thank him for his care and tenderness to her brother.' When the dear fellow beamed with such delight, I proceeded to say how delighted she and my mother would be to have him make us a long visit soon, which he readily promised to do within the year. As he still held the picture of my beautiful sister, and seemed so reluctant to surrender it, I ignored it entirely or pretended to do so, and as we proceeded with our talk, I saw, with half an eye, that he furtively slipped it into his pocket, at which I was so gratified, I had to pinch myself to keep from dancing a jig of delight.
"It was hard indeed to part with Roger, and not before he again promised to visit me within a year did I say farewell; then we were again sailing out on our homeward voyage. We tarried but a short time on the Isthmus of Panama; for, in fact, I had but an indifferent opinion of that little neck of land, made up, it seemed, of snakes, centipedes, and bad smells. Whew! it makes me faint, even yet, to remember how those nasty, vile, old swamps radiated their bad odors! There had just been an earthquake to roil up the concentrated filth which was packed away in those slimy bayous, and as every whiff of wind came loaded with its own peculiar stench, the variety became so wearying that I grew at length tired of the 'nasal panorama,' and vainly yearned for the friendly precincts of a glue factory.
"It always seemed to me that Nature had aimed to make a sea of the isthmus, but had taken the flux or cholera, and left her work but half completed."
"Our ship touched at Havana, and in company with several other passengers, who lived in the Mississippi Valley, I decided to stop here until a vessel sailed for New Orleans, which would not occur for ten days yet; but years might be passed in that beautiful city of enchantment, the 'Queen of the Antilles,' and we found our stay one round of perpetual delight.
"A day was devoted to a sail around the sunlit harbor, environed by mansions, castles, and palm-decked hills—the sapphire sky bounded only by the purple mountains or pale-green sea. Then we visited Old Moro Castle, its portcullis, donjon-keep, and 'sounding barbacan,' its gloomy grandeur of turret and tower—
all recalling the feudal days of Scotland and Spain. Next we drove through the Prado of San Isabel, with its triumphal arches of snowy marble, its rose-decked alamedas lined with palm, cypress, and magnolia, its clear fountains foaming amid thickets of acacia and blooming oleander; and then on to the great theater of Tacon, where the evening was passed as if in fairy-land.
"Christmas-day we drove out to visit a coffee-plantation a dozen miles from the city walls. The dew was still glittering on the foliage as we whirled rapidly along in our easy volantas, and the air was rich with the odor of orange-blossoms and a myriad of other tropic flowers. We halted at the Bishop's Gardens for an hour, and I can but faintly describe their gorgeous floral wealth. These gardens are centuries old, dating back to the days of Charles V., when the Spanish banner of crimson and gold waved around the world.
"There were palm, myrtle, and mangoe trees growing beside canals where the clear rushing water rippled along over the bottom of gaily-colored tiles. Then there were plantations of yucca, the broad-leaved bread-fruit, lemons, guavas, and figs, with great basins of marble brimming with water, on which floated lilies white as snow. But, entrancing as were those avenues of whispering myrtle, orange, and pine, we drove on through the warm sunlight until near noon, when we arrived at our destination.
"The coffee-plantation contained a league of land—three miles square—and was divided into innumerable plats by long avenues that cut each other at right angles, like streets, extending through the plantation. These avenues were lined on either side by palms of a hundred different species, and in their great width of full fifty paces, and three miles long, they were set in Bermuda-grass, mown like a carpet of velvet. The squares, however, were carefully cultivated, and no weeds were visible in the red, mellow soil.
"Next to the row of palms grew a line of orange-trees; then lemons, almonds, pomegranates, and olives, followed by a row of evergreens of infinite variety, the remainder of the square being planted to coffee-trees.
"It was a sight never to be forgotten that unfolded to our view as we drove down one of those long colonnades of palm, over which the parasites trailed, linking tree to tree with garlands of scarlet, rose, and golden blossoms—the snowy orange-flowers contrasting with its coppery fruit—gloomy pine, spruce, and cypress, with glimpses between of the coffee-trees loaded with their crimson berries.
"Thousands of birds flitted about, lending animation to the gorgeous tropical scene,—gaudy parrots, white doves, orioles, and blue-birds; while myriads of humming-birds of rose and emerald, gold and purple, wove and flashed among the trees.
"We, who live in these dull northern climes, can not fancy the pictures of life and color that adorn the forests of tropical America; but as I sat that Christmas-day amid the Cuban groves, and ate the most luscious fruits, fresh from the tree, the glorious sunlight sifting down through the feathery, fern-like palm-leaves, and over all the cloudless blue of the southern skies, I thought of the snow and ice which wrapped the hills and meadows of my northern home. But a feeling of longing stole over me for the brooks, bound by their crystal fetters and sheltered by the oak-clad hills, the merry jingling sleigh-bells in the frosty air, and, amid all this wealth of bloom and tropic life, my heart turned back to the memory of rustic joys in my boyhood's home,—the roaring fire on the hearth-stone, when the frost-rime crept over the window-pane; the rushing of the storm-king, as he piled the ghostly drift without, or fled shrieking by, shaking the gables in his wild wrath. Then fancy came thronging on with dear faces of the home-folk that I had not seen for years; and when I awoke, with a start, to the thought that the ocean rolled between me and my distant home, do not blame me that a tear-drop went trickling down through the sunlight of that foreign tropic land.
"After loitering for a few hours among the coffee-trees, we ascended a mountain to drink of the waters of a famous mineral spring, which gushes from among the lofty cliffs; and as I stood on the verge of a precipice, before me there spread a landscape of matchless grandeur,—the wide savannas with their fields of cane, tobacco, and fruit, the dim city, begirt with its walls and grim fortresses, and the blue harbor, crowded with the ships of all nations; while far away to the north, stretching out, it seemed, to eternity, lay the trackless ocean, dotted with white winged ships and those gem-like islands, 'The Queen's Gardens.'
"Driving back to the city, we paid a moonlight visit to the tomb of Columbus. I stood long and silently by the urn where rests all that remains of the Great Mariner—all save the Columbian spirit, which will pervade the people of America as long as this continent endures.
"Yes; you and I are actuated by the same spirit that guided the illustrious pioneers out toward the setting sun—enterprise, ambition, and energy. As I noted the humble monument, I bitterly recalled the ingratitude and perfidy of Spain; but when there rose to my mind a vision of the grand and powerful nations, the splendid cities and happy homes of the thronging millions from Montreal to Buenos Ayres,—these, I mused, are the monuments befitting the noble hero, and it matters not that the lowly urn in the old cathedral holds the ashes of mortality.
"Coming forth into the mellow moonlight, I paused a moment to gather a spray from the roses and passion-flowers, blooming in dew-drenched clusters amid the orange and myrtle of the Paseo hard by; and as I stood drinking, as it were, the odors of that perfume-laden air, afar off could be heard the sullen boom of the breakers as the sea broke in thunder on the walls of Moro Castle, while the faint, sweet notes of a guitar floated out upon the night, mingling with the diapason of old ocean's roar as it chanted its hymn of eternity on the rocky beach.
"Two weeks later I drove up to my father's gate, through the snow and ice of a Northern winter. The white drift wrapped the hills and meadows, and the gurgle of the brook in the sheltered valley sang faint and muffled within its crystal prison; the dear old cedars bent low under their white burden, and from the eaves of the time-worn, red brick homestead, the icicles hung glittering like spears in the frosty light.
"When I left home four years before, I was a smooth-faced boy of twenty, but while in the mines I had grown a beard like a Turk; and although in San Francisco I had passed under the sway of the barber, who despoiled me of more locks than Samson ever lost, yet enough remained to complete my disguise; and I was smiling at the surprise I had in store for the home-folks, when the door opened, and lo! Amy came flying down the path with such an outcry that all the family came rushing upon the scene, Amy saying, between smiles and tears:—
"'Oh, George, you thought we wouldn't know you; but I was watching, and when you paused at the gate and looked so wistfully towards the house, I knew—oh, it must be you!'
"Ah well—such a day will never come again! How I followed mother and Amy about, or sat in the kitchen with father on one hand and Dick on the other—all of us talking at once! Such a homecoming is known in all of its keen delight by only the long-absent miner or returning soldier. And the dinner which followed, where all the culinary treasures of earth, sky, land, and sea were laid under contribution, was a meal which caused me to say they certainly meant to stuff me as a curiosity, after the manner of a taxidermist.
"'There must be some means devised to keep you at home hereafter,' replied my mother.
"I said I was through with rambling; for I had brought enough money home for the whole family—unless we indulged in such dinners every day.
"Dick replied with a laugh that 'wealthy people could certainly afford salt for the potatoes.'
"'Oh, that is not a luxury, for I find it in both the fruit and coffee,' replied my father.
"In the evening I took Dick's grays and sleigh to drive over to Mary's home, and at starting was charged by Amy to be sure and bring Mary over to the 'wool-picking' at Widow Hawley's—a semi-festive meeting of the best society in that primitive but happy neighborhood. Promising to do my best to meet Dick and her that evening at the designated place of festivity, I touched the horses, and shot down the drive just in time to dodge the slipper, which, with a gay laugh, she hurled at my back; and as I rounded the curve of the stone wall into the highway, she and Dick cheered me very encouragingly.
"As I drove along the sparkling, crusted road, the west was still blushing faintly, and the moon peeped through the snowy tree-tops, that drooped in feathery sprays of frost and ice, sweeping the drifts below with their creaking, rattling branches, and the stars winked knowingly in the clear, cold sky as my sleigh-bells awoke the jingling echoes among the well-remembered hills that flanked the valley on either side.
"When I reached the door of Mary's dwelling the windows threw out a ruddy light from the great fire-place, where the flames leaped and crackled, and showers of sparks flashed up the wide chimney, while back and forth in the flickering light tripped Mary, singing as she spun on the roaring wheel.
"At my rap the wheel ceased its hum, a light footfall was heard, and—well, I'll just close the door, as it was only a private matter—but in a moment I was kissing her mother, who hugged me almost as hard—that is, she and the old gentleman did—no—no—I mean to say that Towser and all the rest of the—There—there I go again"—said the colonel, joining in the merriment of his hearers, who were shouting with laughter at the absurd flounders of the colonel's narrative; but when the last giggle of Grace and Rob had subsided, and cries of "hear, hear," resounded on every hand, then our friend Warlow resumed, as he cast a fond look toward his wife, who had been busy at the camp-fire preparing the evening meal while the shades of twilight were thickening among the trees.
"I only wished to say that I was highly gratified with my reception on that happy evening, and Mary and I were soon on the road to the residence of Mrs. Hawley, where we found a merry throng of old friends; and, after such a greeting as only one who meets his childhood's friends after long years of absence can appreciate, we were allotted a quiet corner, and our share of the evening's labor."
At this moment a summons to supper was heard, and the party adjourned to the camp-fire, to discuss the savory prairie-chicken and quail on toast, with which Mrs. Warlow celebrated the close of that Sabbath-day.
An hour later the party sat under the drooping boughs of an elm, near thickets of snowy elder and blooming wild-roses, which filled all the air with their delicious fragrance; the shallow stream murmured and gurgled along between its willow-fringed banks, glimmering like silver under the beams of the rising moon.
At the request of the group, the colonel resumed, as follows:—
"When the wool had been allotted to the captains, in equal proportions, the leaders divided the company in two parties. It was understood that the side first finishing its task of picking the burrs and other foreign matter from the fleeces of wool, should crown its captain and carry her in triumph around the room on a chair; then she should be awarded the honor of opening the ball, which was to follow in the wide kitchen.
"Mary and I were the last to finish, but were helped through our task by several smiling friends. Then our captain—wild, saucy Peg Sickle—bounded up with the cry, 'Crown the captain!' which was re-echoed by her noisy followers, who proceeded, with ludicrous ceremony, to carry the order into execution.
"The violins struck up a lively air, and the gay Peg, wearing her towering head-dress of wool, led off in the inspiriting quadrille; but the lively dance was watched ruefully through the open doorway by the other party, who still were at their unfinished task; but our hilarity was interrupted by cries of—
"'Fraud!—Shame!—Peggy has been hiding the fleece!'
"It transpired that the treacherous Peg had concealed nearly half the wool allotted to our party, and it had been discovered, in its hiding-place, under the bed; so poor Peg was dragged ignominiously from the unfinished set, and made to abdicate her woolly crown, which was quickly replaced by a diadem of cockle-burrs, with which her irate foes decked her brow, with the taunting reminder that 'uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.'
"We slunk back to our unfinished task, as our opponents finished theirs, and re-enacted the mummery; but we toiled faithfully, notwithstanding their jeers, and soon were allowed to join the revelers.
"I noticed, with gratification, that Amy appeared to still be heart-free; and as we were dancing together, later in the evening, I told her of finding Roger at Acapulco, and when she almost cried with delight at his escape, I began at once to build 'castles in Spain,' but prudently omitted mentioning the incident of the picture.
"Dancing and singing continued until a late hour, relieved, however, by huge baskets of hickory-nuts and apples, with supplementary pitchers of cider. Of that ride home through the moonlight I'll say nothing, in deference to that lady by the camp-fire yonder; but suffice it that she was the heroine of that very happy occasion, and the 10th of May was set for our wedding, which, in view of my four years' probation, I thought an age to wait.
"Next day I bought the 'Nolan farm,' which was only three miles from Mary's home, and at once proceeded to put the place in thorough repair. The premises were rather tumble-down, and 'the bildin's a leetle shackelty,' as the fox-hunting squire remarked; but I put such a force of workmen on the old stone house and broken-backed barn that the place was soon completely transformed.
"The fences were the most demoralized and dilapidated that I have ever beheld. In fact, brother Dick asserted that the 'Nolan boys, Bill and Ike, were never known to open a gap,' but rode their horses at the rail-fence, knocking it down for rods; then half of the next day would be devoted to repairing the unpicturesque nuisance—said repairs consisting of a load of brush, dumped where the festive youths had made the floundering leap.
"Often I would come upon an unsightly place in the fields—the squire's 'barrier,' a great thornbush, spiked to the earth with brambles and thistle—and I would smile at the vision of the sport-loving farmer unhitching his team amid-field to chase the venturesome coon or stiff-legged deer that had caught his roving eye.
"My carpenters were finishing a stile and two large gates in front of the house, which was temporarily occupied by its former owner, when Master Dave Nolan, a scion of the old stock, came upon the scene. He viewed the improvements with great displeasure, and, crawling under one of the large gates, he said, as he wriggled out, lizard style:—
"'Gates is all nonsense; aint half as handy as a gap in the fence and a slick rail!'
"The 10th of May found the house thoroughly renovated and furnished newly throughout; so, after the wedding ceremony, when we had discussed the dinner, Mary and I took a 'bridal tour' by going to our new home, and in the evening our neighbors and relatives gathered in to give us a house-warming.
"Soon after, I wrote Roger an invitation to spend the summer with us, Mary and Amy adding a feminine postscript, in which they expressed their valuation of one who had proved so noble a friend in my distress, and earnestly begging him to give them an opportunity of thanking him personally.
"To which he responded that he would 'do himself the honor' of paying his respects in person the following July—a visit which terminated in a wedding between my old friend and sister Amy. On their bridal day I gave them the deed to the Maple Dale plantation, which adjoined our own, and as I handed the astonished pair the papers I remarked that it was in fulfillment of the contract which Roger and I had made at Los Angeles, and they might charge it to 'Profit and Loss.'
"The newly-wedded pair left the plantation in charge of an overseer, and returned to Acapulco; but Roger resigned his position after a few months, and returned home to the quiet life of a planter.
"We enjoyed a long period of uninterrupted prosperity; but when the War of the Rebellion began, I raised a company and joined the Southern army. At the close of that terrible conflict all that was left me was my title and family, with the wreck of my once comfortable fortune.
"I shall hurry over the history of the struggling years that followed; how on returning from the war I found Mary and the children had fled to the city, and how I gathered them once more together on the farm, where the dear old homestead lay, a blackened ruin. But earnestly we tried to retrieve the lost years.
"The county in which I lived was 'reconstructed,' and from the bonds issued by the officers, and the taxes levied to run the costly, corrupt machine, there followed wide-spread financial distress.
"A treasurer had been appointed to finger our money. He was a hawk-nosed, black-haired little reprobate, named Toler, and the way he tolled all the grists which came to his tax-mill led us to believe that he was well named indeed. It was reported that he had once held the post of sutler in a regiment of Eastern troops. Whether that was true or not, he was undoubtedly the most subtle villain that ever sold scabby sheep or slipped a flag-stone into a sack of bacon. Finally, this 'patriotic' officer, having stuffed his 'grip-sack' with county funds, one dark night took an excursion for his health, considerately leaving the county, which he only refrained from stealing from the fact that it was not portable.
"The reckless extravagance of that class of men, cursed and abhorred by both parties, led eventually to wide-spread ruin and bankruptcy; but out of the wreck of my once comfortable fortune I saved a few thousands, and, hearing favorable reports from the fertile Kansas prairies, we turned our steps westward toward the setting sun. Fate seemed to lead me here; so I will begin the life-struggle over again on the spot where I lost my friends and the gold doubloons here, near the shadows of the Old Stone Corral."
When the colonel had finished the long and eventful history of his past life, a silence fell on the group—a silence tinged with sadness as they thought of the fate of Walraven and his wife; and as the camp-fire mingled its flickering light with the pale moonbeams, throwing an uncertain, wavering shimmer over the tangled vines and milk-white elder-blooms, a sense of their lone, isolated position slowly dawned upon them. They were far out on the verge of an untried, mysterious land, no evidences of civilization for miles around, and all the future, with its trials and struggles, looming grimly on the morrow. Is it any wonder that a feeling of dread, awe, and fear stole over the stoutest heart at the thought of the direful, tragic past haunting the spot with its painful memories, and the black veil of futurity hovering over them—hiding the joys and fears, the tears and graves, that lay beyond?
The colonel sat gazing, sad and thoughtful, out toward the knoll, where, resting in the moonlight, the victims of that horrible tragedy now slept their sleep of eternity in the lone, grassy grave.
The winds whispered softly among the trees; a song-bird twittered drowsily in its nest; then a long, mournful howl from a wolf on the distant hills broke the silence of the summer night. Maud, looking wistfully out to the west, where the great planets, those mute sentinels of time, kept their watch in the sky, repeated the sweet, pathetic "Dirge" of Tennyson:—