The precaution of marking the place where he had sunk the rod was for the purpose of systematizing the search, thus avoiding confusion. In fact, these careful details were but an indication of the practical nature of the young Fortune Hunter, which, even on this weird night, strongly a.s.serted its sway.

While the leaves murmured and whispered, as if striving to tell of the tragedies that had marred this spot--of the mystery that seemed to haunt the very air around--Clifford still pursued his investigations, patiently and in silence, only pausing to draw a deeper breath or a sigh of disappointment at each fruitless effort, as he toiled onward into the deep shadows near the bank of the stream.

At length, tired and weary, our young friend stood on the verge of the stream over the bank of which the dank gra.s.s trailed, and the rank vine of the wild-gourd, with its silvery leaves, rioted in wildest luxuriance and profusion.

Glancing up through the branches of the h.o.a.ry old cottonwood, he could see the glittering constellation of Scorpio far out on the south-western horizon, the fiery star Antares, which forms its heart, glowing like a ruby in the blue vault of heaven.

For a moment Clifford rested on the handle of the deep-sunken instrument, and, lifting his heavy felt hat with its leathern band--a badge of the ranchman throughout all the West--he drew a deep breath of the cool air that swayed the wild hop-vines and pendulous branches of the willows to and fro in the moonlight.

Around, a thousand wild-flowers distilled their odors. The sensitive-plant nodded softly in dew-drenched sprays, its rosy b.a.l.l.s flecked with drops that glinted like gems, while all the air was heavy with its perfume of spices and honey.

The foamy elder-blooms exhaled an odor of entrancing sweetness, and over the senses stole the fragrance from pond-lilies and water-mint, wild-hyacinths and mignonette.

A large prairie-owl flitted by, lending a note of discord to the tranquillity which had reigned, with its dismal hoot, that mellowed away into a plaintive shriek as it lit in some far-off, sombre nook.

Then again silence brooded over the valley, broken only by the croak of frogs along the rush-lined sh.o.r.e, or the soft chirp of insects in the gra.s.s; but suddenly the jabbering wail of a lone wolf, distant yet distinct, pierced through the gloom, startling into silence all the minor voices of the night, and adding with its wild echoes a double sense of loneliness to the weird night.

Clifford turned to the iron rod, and with a few vigorous efforts sent it deep into the yielding earth; and as the quiet of nature once more reigned over the wild glade, he kept turning the handle mechanically, and listening to the gruesome sound of the answering wolves--faint cries that made him shudder--when, lo! the steel point grated harshly against some obstruction beneath his feet.

Quickly withdrawing the rod, he seized the sharp spade and began digging, throwing the black soil out of the pit with frantic haste as he sank rapidly down into the earth at each stroke. As he neared the goal he became dizzy and faint, his breath coming in quick gasps, and the blinding sweat streaming from his face, from which it fell in great drops like rain.

Pausing a moment, while the weird, horned moon peered through a rift in the boughs overhead, and gleamed coldly on his upturned, haggard face, he thought of the wealth that might lie below,--his father's lost fortune; the wealth of Monteluma; its gems and red gold, with all the power that great treasure represented; then, quivering with excitement, he dashed the spade into the earth, and in a moment more the head of a cask was dimly outlined at his feet.

Breathless and panting, he paused, leaning on his spade, while the hopes and fears, which so often, often, a.s.sail us on the threshold of some great enterprise, came thronging on with their mockery, causing him to stand irresolute, as if fearing to solve the mystery; but at length, after summoning all his strength, he struck the cask with his sharp spade, and the head fell in with a dull crash.

As he stooped to peer down into the gloom below, a pair of fiery eyes glared at him from the cavity, and, as he sprang back with a shudder, a sharp, whizzing rattle in the cask announced the presence of that dread reptile, the rattlesnake--a new and terrible danger, worse than the sting of poverty with all its terrors.

As Clifford stood frozen with horror, the slimy monster rose from out the cask, still sounding its angry alarm. A moment more, enraged and writhing, it coiled at his feet, its head erected, slowly swaying to and fro--a gigantic, threatening monster.

Its eyes glowed like coals of fire, and in the bright light shed by the lantern Clifford could see it darting its tongue and glaring with a look of indescribable ferocity and malignant hatred, to which nothing else in the world can be compared. Those who have faced an angry rattlesnake, and who still turn pale at its remembrance, or start from sleep with a cry of fear at the returning vision of terrible danger, will recall the awful rage and menace that glared from the eye of the angry serpent--a glance that unnerves the bravest man in the world instantly. The reptile only seemed to await a motion on Clifford's part to strike like a flash of lightning. Then, with a clammy shudder, young Warlow thought of the agony and speedy death that was certain to follow. At the tremor which involuntarily shook his frame at the thought, the hideous serpent crested its head and paused in its vibrations. "Now all is over," our young friend thought, and breathlessly awaited the shock.

Instantly the face of Mora Estill rose before him, a fleeting vision of loveliness; and with it came a realization of the love for her that had rapidly grown into an all-absorbing pa.s.sion in their short acquaintance.

He knew at once what had sent him out on this midnight search, and why he had begun to wish for wealth so eagerly of late:--It was because be craved fortune and a position which would equal that of the "Cattle King's" daughter. Yet even in this moment of deadliest peril he thought, with a grim smile, of the irony of fate--the reward of his first attempt at "fortune hunting."

While death stared at him from those glaring eyes, and the moments seemed to lengthen out to years, he thought of his friends at home, all unconscious of the dire fate that he was facing; then a wild longing for life seized him, and for the first time since the encounter he began to plan a way of escape.

The spade on which his hand rested was sharp and bright; but to raise it before the serpent could strike he knew was impossible; so he stood immovably eying the formidable reptile, which at length slowly uncoiled and glided away from his feet to an opposite corner of the pit. With a sigh of relief Clifford saw that the danger was lessened, yet he began to more fully realize the size of his deadly antagonist, which now reached twice across the yard-wide pit.

In moments of great danger we are apt to think with lightning-like rapidity, and quickly see any advantage that may arise. So it was with Clifford, who remembered that the rattlesnake always throws itself into a coil before striking; and as he saw it thus off its guard, with a quick movement he struck a violent blow at the snake's head and pinioned it to the earth--then throwing his full weight on the handle he felt the bones crunch beneath the sharp blade, while the reptile madly threshed its now headless body about and wrapped its jangling tail around his boot.

Springing out of the pit, with a desperate leap, young Warlow disengaged the writhing, heavy monster from his foot, and with the iron rod threw it away into the gra.s.s; then sinking down upon the ground, unnerved and exhausted, he lay, too weak to move for several minutes. But when he remembered the unexplored cask, he sprang to his feet again, and after listening cautiously a moment, and hearing no further evidence of danger, he dropped lightly down into the pit, carelessly tramping on the grim serpent-head that but a few moments before was so full of threatening danger.

Anxiously he thrust the long rod down into the cask. No rattle responded; but the despairing fact became apparent: the cask was empty!

With a sinking heart he groped about the bottom of the cask with the rod, and when its iron point struck against a round object that rolled over with a harsh sound on the bottom, he quickly thought of the casket of gems, and reaching down, with a thrill of excitement he clutched the mysterious, smooth object, and sprang out of the pit into the moonlight.

By the pale beams of the gibbous moon, now sinking low in the western sky, but throwing a path of shimmering silver on the bosom of the rippling brook, he saw--not the gems of Monteluma, but a human skull, that, with its wide, eyeless sockets, seemed to glare derisively, and with great white teeth laugh mockingly, at this ending of his "fortune hunting." With a cry of despair, the disheartened youth dashed the loathsome object to the earth; but, as if the sound of his voice had evoked its former spirit, there glided from out the wavering shadows a tall, gaunt form, gray-robed and silent, with tangled, flowing hair, and burning eyes, its lips drawn back from its snaggled fangs in a horrid look of hate and ferocity. With noiseless tread it seemed to float into the moonlit s.p.a.ce; then s.n.a.t.c.hing the skull from the ground and clasping it close to its breast, with an unearthly scream it faded away among the whispering willows.

Chapter XIII.

On the morning following that Walpurga Night, Clifford came down to the Warlow breakfast-table with a weary, feverish air, that caused his father to say:--

"My boy, you are far from well, I fear! This first day of harvest will be quite hard on all of us; the day promises to be hot and sultry; so perhaps you had better rest in-doors. We might send Robbie over on the Flats, and secure you a subst.i.tute until you are stronger."

At this poor Rob mumbled something about "a sixteen-year-old boy having more legs than a centipede;" a remark which he was careful to address to his plate, however, while Clifford replied:--

"Oh no, father; a cup of Maud's coffee will set me all right, I am certain." Then, as he poured a quant.i.ty of yellow cream into the cup of fragrant Rio, he added: "I was wakeful and did not rest well last night;" all of which we know was correct, if somewhat evasive.

"Oh, Cliff! I had the most terrifying dreams last night, in which you were, some way, always mixed up," said Maud wearily; "and although I can't remember anything distinctly, I am so nervous that I shiver even yet."

"So, madam, you feed the hungry harvester on Cold Shudder, garnished with scrambled Night-mare," said Bob, with a glance of contempt at the bacon and early potatoes, of which even his ravenous appet.i.te was now weary. Then, as he broke an egg that was shockingly overdone, he added spitefully: "Why did you _boil_ your door-k.n.o.bs?"

"I spent a weary, restless night, also," said Mrs. Warlow, ignoring Robbie's sarcasm. "I was so vaguely uneasy about you, Clifford, that I shall object to your staying alone at the corral hereafter."

"Alone, nothing!" said Rob. "I guess, by the way he goes fishing about of late, he will soon find some one to keep him company," he added, with a knowing giggle, at which Clifford tried to look unconcerned, while Maud and her mother exchanged pleased and amused glances.

After breakfast Clifford drove the header to the wheat-field, which soon presented an animated and busy scene. The great machine was pushed by four horses, which were guided by young Warlow, who stood behind on a small platform, and steered the ponderous reaper with one hand, while with the other he held the lines. The elevator carried the heads of wheat into a large wagon, which ran, barge-like, beside where a busy loader arranged the load, until, towering like a hay-stack, the wagon would hold no more. Then it was driven away to the rick-yard by the careful driver, being succeeded by another team with military precision.

The flapping of the canvas elevator, and the rolling waves of wheat, rippled and tossed by the summer breeze, made a scene that recalled a sail on the sea; all of which was as gratifying to Clifford's sense of the picturesque as the prospect for gain was encouraging.

When the evening came twenty acres of the heavy grain was stacked in six trim ricks at the edge of the field. A square of golden straw remained standing, to be either burned at the end of harvest, or turned under by the plows to further enrich the soil. Ten more days of such labor would be necessary, however, to finish the Warlow harvest, and no doubt long before that time the picturesque side of the operation will be appreciated best by those who view it at a safe distance.

In the cool twilight Clifford and Rob were riding homeward, the former silent and abstracted, while the latter was calling "Bob White" to a badly-deceived quail, that answered back from the stubble-field.

Finally, becoming tired of this, Rob turned a shrewd but freckled face to his brother, and said:--

"What was the matter up there last night, Cliff? You have been grim as an old mummy all day! I bet my boots _you_ saw something _too_; so out with it."

"Why have you seen anything strange up there recently, Rob?" Clifford replied, evasively.

"Now, don't give it away, Cliff, for the folks would raise an awful racket if they found it out; but last week I saw that old gray demon--of the camp-fire, you remember--by the corral. I was riding Pomp and driving the cows home through the dusk, when, as I came along by the old stone wall there, out popped that long-haired spook, and glared at me like old Nick. Good Lord, Harry! but I dug out of that, my hair bristling up mad-dog style, and Pomp wringing his tail till it cracked like a whip-lash," he concluded, with a scared laugh.

"Well, I saw him, too, at the same place last night," said Clifford, in a low tone as several harvesters came up. "But let's keep the matter secret, Rob; for it will never do to let the neighbors know it, and be ridiculed for our superst.i.tion. Then it would only make mother and Maud uneasy. So let's watch and say nothing until we have unraveled the mystery."

In the evening Clifford was starting up to his dwelling, on the plea that the house at home was crowded with the workmen; but Rob insisted on going along and sharing the watch, which on this and the succeeding evening was unsuccessful, for no trace of the ghostly visitant was found. As Clifford had quite enough of "fortune hunting" the night of his first experience, he made no further investigations for the recovery of the treasure.

The following Sabbath, which was the second after the Estill visit, the younger members of the Moreland and Warlow families drove down to the Estill ranch. As they dashed up to the great pile of creamy stone buildings, smothered in elms and sheltered on the north by towering, tree-clad cliffs, our young friends noticed with wonder the signs of age which the vine-mantled and time-stained building presented.

It was a well-dressed, animated group that alighted from the handsome Warlow carriage,--Maud in gray silk and dotted tulle; Grace in a "Dolly Varden" costume, with her broad, white hat wreathed by daisies; Ralph in superfine black, with lawn tie and white vest, his handsome face ruddy with health and happy contentment; Scott, quiet and thoughtful, in Puritan-gray; while Rob gloried in the splendor of spotless white, his small, well-shaped boots glittering like jet. He had given just enough c.o.c.k to his jaunty straw hat to correspond well with the general air of pertness conveyed by a slightly freckled nose, dimpled cheeks, dusky with tan, and a pair of round, hazel eyes, that always danced with fun.

But it was golden-haired, pansy-eyed Clifford, with his Grecian face, smooth, glossy cheeks, tinged with bronze, but fresh and boyish still, who would rivet the gaze longest; for there was a look of pride and strength about him which caused one to forget the _boutonniere_ of fescue and lobelia, blue as his own eyes, and the rich-textured suit of seal-brown, which he wore with the easy grace of a planter's son.

The long frontage of the stately mansion was broken by gables, balconies, and quaint dormer windows, and on the broad platform, or terrace, in front of the building a fountain flashed in the sunlight.

The terrace was walled with creamy stone, and railed about by a heavy bal.u.s.trade of white magnesian limestone. In the angles and at the top of the steps were great vases of the same alabaster-like material, down the sculptured sides of which trailed tangled ma.s.ses of vines with their blossoms, scarlet, gold, and blue.

As our friends drove up, they saw Miss Estill sitting on the buffalo-gra.s.s which coated the lawn with its thick carpet of pale green.

She appeared to be twining a garland of flowers about the neck of a pet antelope, as it stood with its head on her shoulder in an att.i.tude of docile affection.