Part 19 (1/2)
Chapter XVI.
”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 hoa.r.s.e 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 G.o.d! 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 gla.s.sy eyes, may be,” said Clifford, hoa.r.s.e with emotion.
”Not Bruce! Oh no, no! it can not be! Oh G.o.d! 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 p.a.w.nee 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 p.a.w.nee 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 finis.h.i.+ng 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.