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A SUDDEN FORTUNE.
X STORY OF CALIFORNIA OF TO-DAY. | -a -..'■' ■ , •""-''" --, n.**** _'_-* -•-_-•. ' , . *""*"■ ALFRED E. CALHOUN. . ■*'itnor of "Jifi. Tales of ihe Border," "Our '■ioutiiern Mountaineers," "Montezuma,"* ■*• _-. . -»-■ a_aa — a-- _a,*-~s _f*P . -— — .-a___MJ«_____M_- "The Antipodeans," Etc i .. 5 £._ .; CHAPTER (Continued. ) V__> THE FUXEKAL BY TORCHLIGHT. \ ■ ■'■ '*.-; V . After .the departure of Commodore West And his nephew, Colonel Morton again re- turned to his private office, with tho tottering step, of ah. old man, and again assumed the same position, on the lounge, that ho had , occupied when the servant called him to the library. ; J. .He was in no condition to give any thought to time. His meeting with the commodore ' had brought up, vividly, all that passed which lie was so anxious to forget. Before , his' mind there passed, rapidly, a panorama of his life, with its intense shadows and occa atonal glimpses of light. But soon the past gave way to an overwhelming realization of the" present ; after nearly a quarter of a cen tury of successful doubling, to avoid tho dread Nemesis, he found himself at last cornered, and seemingly with no avenue of BScapc. __.'?■ Yes, there was one avenue. If in tho duel then Inking place between Albert Howard and his own substitute, Dr. Ellerton, the latter were to fall, it would give him a clue where with to escape from the hlack and tortuous labyrinth in which he found himself. With wonderful forethought, he had already pre : pared for such an emergency. If Dr. Eller ton fell, the world must be led to believe that it was he. Colonel Morton, who was shot, and ■ that Ellerton was .the survivor. With this . prospect in view, he had made his will, leaving large sums to many charities in his State, so that *.to Ute public mind, his benevolence might banish any shadows that attached to his' name : and he had made Dr. Ellerton his sole executor, without bonds, so that he could at onco enter on this duties. This was ■a • remarkably bold scheme, and was only rendered possible by his close resemblance to f the one man who had been true to him since their" first acquaintance, the one man who : had aided him in his crimes, and shared with • him in his successes. It might bo thought | that even a character so degraded would en- * , tertain some feeling of gratitude and friend ship for his faithful associate, yet so intensely t selfish and degraded was the man that as he lay there, with his hands clasped, and his ' eyes closed, the wish that ruled his mind was ' that his reveries might be disturbed by tho • news of Ellerton's death. *^As if -in response to his wish, he was startled by hearing a loud, double rap at the » door, and before he could say "come in" it was opened, and Captain Almedo entered, his face an olive green, and his lips and hands twitching with excitement ' If Almedo suspected the true state of af fairs, he gave no sign of it When he could . - - ' dor RV /l? •'.:.. AIBERT HOWABD OS* THE OTHEB SIDE - ..-., ....:•-,,.. •;?-■-- Command himself sufficiently to speak, he gasped out: ---- a "Doctor Ellerton 1 we have had the meeting, and the colonel is dead ! The other man is ■ unhurt !". • "And the body?" asked Morton, as he sprang to his feet. — "Four of the hands are carrying it to the ; house. . They will be here presently. Where shall we take it, and who is to break the , * ' .hews to his wife and his daughter?" ; "Morton seized both Almedo's hands, and said: '_'... ... HI J^ "You, have been my good angel, captain, [ and I shall not forget it. Have the body taken to the library ; send a messenger to San Bernal for an undertaker, and have the announcement sent up and down the coast that Colonel Morton is dead, and will be buried ; on the hill above Buena Vista, to morrow night at dusk." " Almedo's hopes grew stronger than ever. Up to the coming of Ralph Holmes, he imag ined he had a clear field to himself, and, relying on Colonel Morton's promise, ho saw nothing intervening to prevent his becoming the husband of Dora. For a time this hope was nearly destroyed, but now it leaped into life with greater strength, and it was with a feeling nearer to certainty than ever that he saw the coveted prize within his reach. With more foresight and tact than might have ' been expected from a man of his caliber, he seemed to appreciate what should be done under these trying circumstances, and he did it with unexpected directness and en ergy.. *;--•- -■J: Unnecessary here to give the preliminaries or to detail how Colonel Morton made . prep , arations for his own funeral. To increase his resemblance to the man whose character he had assumed, he put on a suit of Eller ton's clothes and wore his watch, which had a peculiar guard with a charm in the shape •of a cross, which every one who knew the doctor had frequently noticed ; so perfect was this disguise that even the servants were imposed on. But there were four people at '."' Buena Vista who were not deceived, and who ■ understood the man's motive quite as well as he did himself. These were Mrs. Morton, Dora, Mile. Bertrand and Fred, the operator, "who, seemed so much a part of the telegraph tower, where he worked "and slept, that it ,*.. was very odd to find him moving about the house and grounds, under tho directions of ■' * Morton or Almedo. 1 ' The news and manner of Colonel Morton's death spread up and down the coast with the rapidity of the proverbial wildfire. Mes '" sages of condolence poured in on Mrs. Mor ton and her daughter. The news was flashed ' .' to Francisco, and thence throughout the • length and breadth of the land, and the sus ■ picions that were pointing to Colonel Morton as a prominent figure in the great bond con- ■ ' ' spiracy, recently discovered, stopped for the time. _;* .<*'_•'- - . - By sunset the following afternoon a grave was dug in the mountain crest, directly above . Buena Vista? as had been directed in the col onel's will. While it was yet twilight, car • riages by scores and horsemen by hundreds ; reached * Buena Vista to attend the strange . funeral. Mrs. Morton and her daughter ''could not be seen; nor was this wondered at. ... The visitors," who were nearly all men, sent! messages of sympathy. Morton and Almedo had 'made perfect preparations for the ■ funeral. Just at dusk the coffin was placed : ... on the shoulders of six men, ' employees of the place, and behind it as chief mourners, u_ • marched the man who was supposed to be dead and his friend i Almedo. Torches had i ■ been prepared for all tho visitors, and before i the procession . started* those were lit and i handed to the men, who, forming by fours, ; fell in behind the coffin, -.. and - soon appeared like a serpent of, fire slowly winding up the hill: It was a request in the dead man's will that. there should bo no service at the . grave, save a few remarks .' delivered by his ; ?- executor and old friend, Doctor _* Ellerton : and this wish was adhered to. . The coffin was lowered into the grave, and Colonol Morton, with his hat off, looked, into the dopths and. in a voice that could be beard 1 by all present,' delivered a beautiful eulogy on : his dead friend. The singing was unusually Impressive. When tho last word of the . speech .was over, Morton stopped back and raised his eyes, and as he did so, he mot the koen, mocking gaze from tho other side of tho grave, of Albert' Howard, who had had the temerity to attend the funeral, with his friend, Mike Regan. . Morton's scheme had worked admirably. Ho had deceived everybody but the ono man whom he was so anxious to deceive. And when the horsemen and people who had come in carriages had returned to their homes, he sat alone in his private office, again, with a full realization of the fact that Albert Howard had seen through his plot. ■;.". CHAPTER XXVI. **_BE*_T HOW IS INEXORABLE. Before leaving Buena Vista, Commodore West and his i nephew bad had a distinct understanding with Mrs: Morton and Dora as to the reason for their sudden departure from Buena Vista; The regard -of Ralph Holmes for the beautiful girl had not been changed by his remarkable discovery. . Indeed, if any thing, his love had' been intensified by a feel ing of pity for tho bravo girl who had been cursed by her associations with such a father. He was engaged to Dora, but her last words to him, before he loft Buena Vista, released him from his pledge, a privilege of which he was determined not to avail himself. When the commodore said good-bye to Mrs. Morton, he added : ■:l-£-. c_ _. A "You cannot blame me for what I am doing ; you know how this man has cursed my life * and blasted yours. For the sake of the old love and the old regard command me to the , last if I can be of any service. Tho commodore and his nephew made their way to the little hotel at San Bernal, which they found pretty well ; crowded by Albert Howard and his rough companions. They knew the crisis 1 had come, that the end of Morton's career was at hand, and so they de cided to stay here until the curtain had fallen on the last act: i-_i_'.v! :-.<d .v Sf_9 It was after the • duel;* and Ralph and his undo were in the little sitting room, trying to write by the • dismal lamp, when Albert . Howard' entered, with 'a' rifle in the hollow of his arm, and a strip of -> plaster down his right cheek. Closing the dopr and setting the rifle against it Howard strode over, and laying his hand on the table by which the commodore was sitting, he said : "The ■ duel is over, and, as you see, lam unhurt save -for this scratch." ■• "And this man Morton?" queried the com modore, as he 'laid down his glasses, and looked eagerly up into the strong, sunburned face. /s|Bg3-BP-- : -' ■'■■-- *.'■•.'-- "Morton?"* repeated Howard, with a grim laugh, "well, Morton is still living." "Ah !" exclaimed ' the * commodore, "I am • glad it is not what you intended it to be, a duel to the death I" **■'."•'' 'A "But it was !" * said * Howard. "The man • who met mo lies dead upon the sands, unless the body has been taken*' to Buena Vista be fore this. As the end nears Morton is play- ' ing stronger and stronger cards, but I have ' the last deal, and I know his hand." ■ "You are talking in riddles," said the com modore. . "I do not understand you." "Then," said Howard, as he dropped into a chair, laid his elbow : on the table, and - rested his chin in the hollow of his hand, while his eyes were flxed.on the commodore's face, "I shall . explain in a very few words. You may have noticed, as has every one else, the striking resemblance . between these two partners in crime. "For? years they have banked on it, and worked on it, and, whether • Ellerton intended it or not, I feel sure that Morton must have had in mind exactly such circumstances as ' those .. in ' which he now finds himself. Finding that a duel was inev itable, and knowing thathe was not himself a good rifleman, he prevailed upon Ellerton to take his place ; or Ellerton, who was un doubtedly a ■ braver man than himself, may have volunteered to do so ; I think the latter is the ease. . I was supposed to have met Morton this evening, but it was Ellerton who faced me, and close as was the resemblance and make , up, I saw through .the disguise. The news is already hurrying through the country that Colonel Morton is dead; the body will.be buried as that of ■ Colonel Mor ton ; the . survivor . will be Dr. Ellerton, and Dr. Ellerton will be the executor of the estate left by bis friend. ■,-, In other words, Morton, as Morton, has ceased to be, and so long as he lives, which; will not? be. many years, I imagine, he must pose — indeed, he must be Dr. Ellerton." -. r ,- ■■-..> *•■•,.- •; :.-.-■ "You amaze- me I", .-said - the commodore. "But conceding that what you say is true, do you not . think we have -had - our revenge? As Ellerton, -the man will leave the country very soon and possibly never be heard of again. In God's name let ' him go ! And let us rest satisfied in having forced him into a life that is worse than death: I ask this for the sake of the two noble women whose lives have been blasted by their associations with this man." -o ••- ;!•* '-•; ,'r*.'. Howard laughed again; folded his arms, crossed his legs, and with his eyes on the ceiling, said: ■'.-•"'■ "Commodore West, knowing how you have suffered at the hands ■ of . this man, I did not think you could be so easily satisfied ; but if you are content with what has happened, I am not. Let me see ; it is now nearly twenty four years since this man brutally murdered my brother at Tucson, Arizona. About the same number of years have elapsed since I, a prosperous young miner who had never carried a pistol,- and never had a quarrel with a man, registered an oath, before heaven, that all the years of my life should be devoted to hunting into tho grave the murderer of George Howard. Ho still lives, and it matters not to me whether his name is ' Ellerton or Morton or Martin, whether he is rich or poor, whether he stays in California, or journeys to the uttermost ends of the earth, I shall follow him up with the same persistency that has marked my past, nor rest satisfied till earth has seen the last of him. A score of times during my long pur suit, I could have walked up to this man, being absolutely sure of who he was, placed my pistol to his breast, and killed him ; but that would not suit my purpose. I watched him changing from a hunted cur into a posi tion of comparative respectability, and I re joiced at it ; I saw him rising, step by step, sometimes by means that were honest, but more frequently by methods that were in harmony with his nature, from poverty to opulence, and from , opulence to honor and wealth ; I saw his daughter growing into a beautiful womanhood ; I saw him surrounded by the sycophants who are drawn to wealth as flies are to honey; I saw, him, under his last name, becoming one of the great money factors of the State, and indeed of the nation ; and at all of this I rejoiced, for I knew that the hour of his ruin was , .under my control, and that the higher the position he had attained, . the greater and more terrible must be the fall, when the fall came. The first blow has been struck ; the second blow is pending ; and THE SAINT PAUL~I)AILV~GL^Ert SUNDAY;,3yMt*^ MATSrSO, IS94:^SUPH,EMENT it will need no third blow to complete my .work!'-' ? .**- ,mV?; .■.?'• V-M"?'?.*. Z : "My God I man 1" exclaimed tho commodore, "you - are inexorable 1" I The man's : present position should satisfy 7 your vengeance. Think of his wife and daughter 1" : "No, commodore, I cannot think of the wife and - daughter. :-: Or, if : I : should .do . so, ; arid *. I ' confess ? I " have, at times, ■ for ■ the daughter is an angel, and . the mother Ib a martyr, they are lost to my sight by the face of my own dead brother I . Do . not try to "YOU HAVE FOUND ME YOUB FBIEKD. 1 change me, for it would bo a waste of time. The" work to which I have given the best years of my life is now near completion, and there is no power on earth that can stay my hand 1" "Let me implore you," said Balph, speak ing for the first time, "that in anything you may hereafter do you will, so far as possible, save the ladies, in whom uncle and myself are so much interested." "I can promise that," said Howard, "for let me assure you," said Mr. Holmes, "that if it had not been for these same ladies, respect and sympathy for whom has averted the blow, it would have fallen before this, and Colonel Morton would have been a dead man the night you arrived at Buena Vista, and imagined that I was Lord Pelham."'"' CHAPTEB XXVII. '»»< THE SIEGE OF BUE-fA. VISTA it will be remembered that in' one of the last messages sent to his partner, French, in San Francisco, Colonel Morton requested him to send on a number of armed retainers who were to come nominally as employees to work on the land. The night that Doctor Ellerton's body lay coffined in the library, these men reached Buena "Vista . without attracting attention, and were secreted in the large vaults under the house. From these vaults a spacious tunnel lead down for about a hundred yards to the little bay in which the colonel's yachts and the boats of the fish ermen were anchored. * This subterranean passage had j been commented on by the neighbors at the . time the house was being constructed, some " years - before, and the colonel had explained by saying that he was very fond of yachting and that the passage would enable him to reach or come from his boat, no matter the darkness or the condition of the weather. ?/. One part of the basement was set aside for the wine cellar, and as the? house was built on a slope, the apartments on the lower side needed no artificial hght in the 'daytime, and ; some of them were used by the Chinese ser vants for sleeping quarters. In the construe- • tion of this house, as in everything else he • did, Colonel Morton had an eye to the future, : '■ and his foresight in this matter will be pres ently made evident. - . There were twenty men in this band, every one of them a desparado and an outlaw, and : the majority of them had long been in the employ of Colonel Morton and his associates. They evidently knew the nature of the work ' that was expected of them, for they all came armed with revolvers and repeating rifles. Cots were provided for them to sleep on and they were supplied with an abundance of food and a modicum of liquor, their employer well knowing that it would be dangerous to give them all they wanted of the latter. ; ".1 The midnight following the funeral Colonel Morton descended to the basement, and in a large apartment used as a dining-room and sitting-room by the gang, he proceeded to explain why he had sent for them. : ; "Gentlemen," he said, "you have come here, nominally as employees, to • work on this estate, but I do not suppose there is one of your number eager for employment of that kind. Most of you have known me for many years, and I think you will one and all say you have always found me to be a friend." Cries of "That's so 1" "That's so !" "You're right, colonel." "You've been our friend in ii^pdH^Ki MAD INEZ KEPT CLOSE. the past, and you are. our friend now!" and similar exclamations went up from the bearded throng. * "You have all heard of, or : know of, Albert Howard," proceeded the colonel. "For some reason, best known to himself, but which -, I have been unable .to fathom, this man has persistently and religiously pursued me for years, and yesterday he capped the climax of his persecutions by murdering my oldest and dearest friend. He is now at San Bernal, with a dozen or more men of the same character ; and without any shadow of law, I am given to understand he proposes to place Buena Vista in a state of siege, and to arrest or kill myself, or any of my friends, who attempt to break through his lines. If the law does not protect me, and in this^case it has shown no disposition to do so, then I shall be forced to protect myself, with the help of my friends; and it is for this purpose I have sent for you. While I. am well aware that it is friendship for myself that has brought you here, I do not propose to subject you to danger without a proper compensa tion. To every man who stands by me dur ing this ordeal, I will pay one thousand dol lars when the work is over ; and to the man who removes Albert Howard forever from my path, and who will give me proof of the same, I shall give five thousand dollars in addition. Now, gentlemen, I have explained the work I expect of you, and I have made no effort to hide the danger to which you will be subjected. If there are any here who do . not wish to ac cept all the conditions of this contract, it is not too late for them to withdraw."' • The colonel ceased speaking, and by the aid of a lamp, pending from the ceiling, he looked from face to face at the men about him. A few seconds' pause followed, then a bearded giant named Roberts, who was the leader of the gang, took off his hat and shouted, as he waved it above his head : . . , . "Every man here knows exactly why he came. That was explained *_ before we left "Frisco.? I think I can say, for. myself and; friends, that If .there isn't a fight with this dog Howard and his crowd, we'll bo disap pointed 1" . Then, ■ turning to his associates, he asked : ••)!'•"•<.".."?. ': "Boys 1 don't I spoak for aH of you.** ; . * . . i . - .'Yes 1 -res 1 yes I■: Three cheers for Colonel Morton and Captain Boberts 1" shouted the men. .'V.-i_."ui- j „••;;: ;-.'-.-:•-, Addressing the colonel again, Roberts con tinued:, y.i---'.;!.' il'i".-. ?. /-■' "We are having a mighty pleasant time down hore; plenty to eat and drink and noth ing to do ; but wo'vo had all wo want of that! Now point out the work, colonel; show us where Howard : and his = crew are, and leave the rest to us." :;..:: - Lighting a lantorn, Colonol Morton led his men down tho long passage in the direction of the sea, and when ho reached the end, opened tho door, beyond which was a dense jungle, showing .that this means of egress from Buena Vista, had not been much used of late. Standing ttiero in the darkness, they could hear the. booming of the breakers on the shore, and see the changing, phosphor escent glow of . the • combers on the bar. Pointing to tine south, the colonel said : "Roberts, you .know the lay of the land-' hereabouts. . Three miles to the south is Bah Bernal, whore Howard and his men have their headquarters,. The chances are a hundred to one that even now they are on my grounds, 1 watching every, avenue of approach to the house. If you .* can find them, you know what to do; I employ you a3 my guards. These men moan robbery, or murder, or both ! If any of them are killed under these circumstances, I will see that the law clears you. Divide your men into guards, and sta tion them as you please. You can find your way back to this point at any time, and so re gain your quarters. My advice to you is to withdraw just about daylight, for during the daytime I have no fear that Howard will at tack. Now, do you understand me?" *'•* As the colonel finished speaking, he reached out his hand and met that of Boberts. - "Understand you?" was the reply; "well, I'd be an infernal fool if I didn't I know just what is to be done; and if I don't do it, then shoot me." ■ ... -■.:■;)■ "Very well," said the colonel; "I shall not see you again till the morning. . Good night**. And with the lantern -hanging to his arm, he retreated into the tunnel, closing the door behind him. .: ? : '?"-, ; If Colonel Morton had been entirely in the 1 confidence of Albert Howard, he could not more accurately have described his purpose?' At the very moment he was giving instruc tions to Roberts, Howard and Mike Regan, ' each in command of a small body of desper ate men, were actually on the grounds, and ' watching every exit that lead from Buena : Vista, and Mad Inez, as if fully aware of the" purpose of these desperate men, kept close -> to thoir loader. r, : . A-\A--^AA '"- ' ■ (To be Continued., Evidences of Culture- Mr. Hamilton W. Mable tells us there are certain books that are infallible : touchstones • of culture and taste. Arnold's "Culture and Anarchy," Lander's "Heienics," and Thack eray's "Henry Esmond," the appreciation of which implies a certain educational prepara tion for the work. It used to be said that the odes of Horace were the especial solace of the gentleman ; but in this age, the poet of the Mantuan farm is only known to Latin scholars, and it is well known that many of our men of broadest culture are not Latin ists. - ? : , ■ - r ". • At the present time certain authors seem ' to enjoy a period of popularity— is, they become a fad, and, according to Mr. Mable, a fad is always a sham. True culture, accord ing to the same author, involves the matur ing of taste, « intellect and' nature, which ■ comes ■ only ■ with tithe, tranquility and re poseful associations of the best sort The more one really- tares for it, the less he pro- . fosses it ; the more one comes ' into posses sion of it, the less • conscious does his pur suit of it becO-tie.T-- According to Mr. Mable, Shakespeare 'was 1 a typical man of culture, whose knowledge*©! a' few books was beyond question, but whose knowledge of many ■ books is more than doubtful. As types of the best culture of the present day, he cites Tennyson, Lowell, Amlel, and Mathew Ar nold. An Oxford -man once said that the perfection of the lawns in the college gardens was only a matter of three or four centuries of rolling and, cutting ; and the faces of some * famous writers and thinkers betray the long ' years, rich not only in study, but in medita tion, that quiet brooding over knowledge and experience which drains them of their sig nificance for the enlasting enrichment of our own natures. .. ; An : Unpleasant Spook. The otherwise well-worn step-mother ques tion has taken on a new phase in Wilkesbarre, Pa. Mr. Cornelius Boyle, of that place, hav- . ing lost his first wife, took unto himself an other, some two months afterward, and with . his children and Mrs. Boyle No. 2, who is a pretty young woman of seventeen, continued , to live in the old home? _.'.-" ■ ■,•■■ Everything seems to have gone ' along in the smooth and conventional way that things should go until, at last, so says Mrs. Boyle, "Jamesey," who is the eldest of the little Boyle's, "began to cut high jinks and had to be scolded and ignominously put to bed." But though - Mrs. Boyle considered herself equal to the task of training the Boyle shoots in the way they ought to grow, she was not at all prepared for the startling happenings that followed. * '■•' .., It seems that the spirit of the first Mrs. Boyle, solicitous for the welfare of her pro geny, appeared and tock an active part, being, in fact, the leading character in the subse quent proceedings. Mrs. Boyle that is avers that it was the ghost of her predecessor that turned over the furniture and knocked her on the head. At the first appearance as on the second, there was no opportunity for conversation, for Mrs. Boyle fainted at sight of the phantom's face. But the third time, being a courageous woman, she asked the ghost what it wanted, and was admonished in ghostly lingo to beware how she treated the children. ... \Za ..AT.-.-. ; If such visits are to become an established thing, candidates for step-motherships will have to go through a preparatory course of training for the development of their nerves. In India ■ twenty-five million acres of land are , made fruitful by irrigation; in' Egypt there are about six million acres, and in Europe about five million. The United States has about four million acres . of irri gated land, with the area rapidly increasing. Stuttering iii Children is said to be a nerv ous disease. ? ?- The ' school children of Ger many are more affected in this way than any others in the World, a recent report showing that over 80,0fl0 German children are afflicted in this way, aAd' a curious thing about it is' that it is said -to be catching, not through contagion, but by (Sympathetic imitation. Professor Garner, who has recently re turned from studying the gorilla and cham panzee languages on the west coast of Africa, is a Virginian by birth. :, He isa well pre served man qt ,. fifty, and although a boy at the time, served with gallantry in the Con federate army. * r .-.? ZZA? Belgium has a mile of railway to every four square miles of territory."" Persia, with '"'a population as large as : Belgium, has only twenty miles of railroad all told." ■''•' '•■ 1 FORCED EXPLORATION. Ine Daring Adventurers Reach the Promised Land. The FlKkt With the Bed Sen— A Despe*-* '■' ate - sitnatton-a-Tne ' Building * ot- th* j ... Watt— Afloat en Unknown Waters •' . -*"*--- —Death and Desolation on ■' ' ! i Every Hand. * • '"••-?■ - '•■'• ■ 11. : : " ' '•■.'.''; '. '.'■ ' -.v As' this narrative is more than a record of thrilling adventure, for it involves the ques tion as to the first man known to have passed I through the Great Canyon of the Colorado,' I have been particular to give the details of the expedition as narrated to mo by James White, the hotter to understand the man, and to bring | out more clearly the fact that his unparalleled voyage was the result of a desperate neces sity. .A" Captain Bakor must have been a remark able . man with splendid qualities of leader ship. As his five companions stood with him on that western spur of tho Sierra .Madre ,, Range, looking over the arid, verduroless and ~ rift-riven expanse at their feet, for the first ; time their hearts failed them, and though no man gave expression to his thoughts, the impulse to turn back seized every one but the stout-hearted leader. "The land that's good for gold," repeated Baker, "isn't usually good for much else.' My word for it, boys, there's lots of gold down there," and he waved' his brown hand at the black ravines, and the arid, flat-topped' mesas, sweeping away in the direction of the unexplored region of the Great Colorado. Measured by Its unfitness for everything else, "this," .in the language of James White, "ought to have been just about the best land for gold under the sun." Unnecessary here to detail the five weeks .of prospecting that followed. The men who had come so far and dared so much were in no mood to be satisfied with ordinary sue . cess. , At a half dozen points they found "pay dirt" in sufficient quantities to have , given them fair wages ; but they were out for , fortunes, and no ten or twenty dollars a day each would satisfy them. AA- ZtZ .'" Still further to the west they traveled, till ... at length they found themselves in the midst , of that labyrinth of chasms and side canyons ! that extend for many miles on .either side of , the great subterranean river. Frequently in their., search they suffered for . days from thirst, and this when they could see the mi i accessible water flowing like silvery ribbons far down between the precipitous walls of some nameless canyon. ~ f ,' Under the lead of a less forceful and hope . ful man than Captain Baker, the party would •THE KTT.T.TNG OF BAKES have turned back after the first week oi prospecting appalled, if not completely dis . heartened, at the difficulties that beset them; but the" gallant fellow cheered .them ; on. He /enlivened the camp fires by stories of men who had won fortunes in the face of greater obstacles, and he pointed to the fact that they had already found, in many places, gold ' in paying quantities as an indication of the wealth of this region. .?"■? They had gone as far to the westward as it was possible to go without wings over that unexplored and trackless land, when' one night they made camp in a grassy valley at the bottom of a canyon not far from the junc tion"of Green and Grand rivers, whose united waters go to make up the Colorado proper. Baker was in his usual spirits, and noting ■ the despondency on the faces of his compan '. ions, he tried to cheer them up by singing •" songs of love and home, and recounting sto ries of the wealth that had come to daring spirits in that land where fortune was so lavish of her favors. ■ . * * It was . decided before . the men went to sleep that night, that they should return back to the Mancos, a branch of the San Juan, • where they had "found good promise," and • there go to work. They had breakfast the ' next morning before the daylight, long visi ■ ble in the - upper world, had crept into the canyon's depths. '-'-'*■? ■ • The packs were placed on the mules, who had had their first good feed of grass for ten days, and * in ' high spirits - the little party started back up the tortuous trail by which - they had descended, Baker, as usual, in the advance, with his rifle slung at his shoulder. They had climbed up about half the distance, when suddenly the shrill yell of the Moun tain Apaches, accompanied by the crack of - rifles and the whizz of arrows, brought them to a halt ' .--_' - . White was behind Baker about fifty feet, the others following with the mules. "With the first yell," said White, "I saw the captain halt and try to unshng his rifle. The next instant he had plunged forward on his face, and I saw the red devils swarming about him. ; I fired and kept firing until my Spen cer was empty, and I saw that the ciptain was dead and more Injins a pouring down ; then I shouted to the others to get back, and I got back myself. The fact that the Apaches stopped to scalp and rifle the dead ! body in their path gave the men a chance to regain their camp of the night before without further disturbance. Here a hurried consultation was held. With the savages on the uplands and between them and the nearest white settlements, about two hundred and fifty miles to the east, retreat in that direction was out of tho question. The canyon wall to the north could not be ■ scaled, so that the only avenue of escape was ■ the mighty rift In which they found them selves, and which continued on no one know how or whither. '■ AA7 Shrill yells up the cliffs . warned the men that they must be moving. The mules were fastened one behind the other, and Henry Strole, a bright young German, was: sent ahead to lead them, while White in command of the others— four all brought up the rear. The only watch in the party was Baker's, so that now. they had no means of telling the hour, but they kept on over the rugged bed of the canyon till the sun looked straight down and the short shadows told them it was noon. Hero they realized that they could lead the mules no further. The deepening water flowed from bank to bank, and the ' only moans ' of going on with the stream was "to swim or' float." :*? In the-clefts of the rocks about them they saw ' quantities of driftwood, and they de ' elded to kill the mules, build a raft and trust themselves to the current of : the unknown ? river. V * Action promptly followed . decision. The animals were shot, and a raft sufficient to float the men, with their arms, food and : mining tools was constructed. As they had ? no nails they used the grazing ropes, halters * and bridle reins to fasten the logs together. By the time they had completed this work it was dark, so profoundly dark that the stout est j heart was '■ cowed ; at I the prospect, and they decided to remain till the moon roso, at ten o'clock, before beginning . their voyage over these profound watercourses '. to an un known landing. - • Captain Baker carried on his person a gen eral map of the country, compiled by tho War Department from the surveys of that accom plished and gallant engineer officer, Captain Ounnison.who some years before had explored this country. to the north, and who lost his llfe at the hands of the Indians in the shadow, of the mountains, and by the banks of the river that now bears his name. White had studied this map with some care, and remembered that while from the junction of the Green and Grand rivers the canyon region was marked "unexplored," that below Its southern ex tremity was Virgin Biver, a Mormon settle ment He believed that this point could not be more than a hundred and fifty miles to the south, and , that they could reach it on their raft, by drifting night and day, inside of two weeks. And. he drew some comfort from the fact that they had an abundance of provisions to last them for that time. Wait ing till the light of the moon was visible on the clouds far overhead, the men loaded the raft, cast loose, and the perilous voyage be gan. As the leader of the little party, White . took upon himself the task of steering, but as he was the first man who had ever floated over these waters, he found it impossible to keep j clear' of the . half sunken rocks and , ragged | projections -that beset his course. Despite these difficulties, they floated on in comparative safety -.till daylight Seeing a flat expanse ahead, with an -abundance of driftwood about, White steered the raft to the shore and made fast Here they lit a Are and cooked _ breakfast, and reasoning, foolishly, as it. turned out, that the difficul ties ahead would be no greater than those they had already passed, their spirits re turned and they began to speculate as to the length of their forced voyage, and what they should do when it was completed. White estimated i that: the . current in front of the morning camp was , about three miles an hour, and that by floating for twenty hours a day they could cover sixty miles, or the whole distance to Virgin Biver within three days. As a matter of ; fact, this Mormon settlement was three hundred and fifty miles away, and the course was beset by rapids and whirlpools which subsequent explorers found disastrous ) to? the best built boats.. Again they started off in better spirits, and dividing the party of five into as many watches, the others lay down .on the raft and went to sleep. The second night out,' and while White was in charge of the raft,. a point was reached which he believes was where the Green and Grand rivers come together. After this the current -became ? more irregular, and the height -off- the vertical walls greater, while at certain places tlie banks came so close to gether that, looking ahead, it seemed impos sible for. the raft *to pass through. Twice a day they stopped where the shores permitted a landing; and cooked food, and after the third night, when they . came near being wracked uon some sunken rocks, it was decided to 'continue the voyage from that time on by daylight The fifth day after starting they reached an immense side canyon coming, from the east, which White be lieved to be the San Juan. The nature of tha banks a short distance below this chasm was such as to permit _their being scaled to the mesas above. By this time three of the men had become discouraged. According to White's > calculations, made from the most unreliable data, they should have been by * this time at the mouth of the Virgin River, yet the black canyon with its ever-increasing gloom ii extended on indefinitely before . them." They felt that it would be death to continue on, and nothing worse could befall them if they tried to make their way back to the' Sierra Madre and San Luis Park. White tried to dissuade the men from their purpose, as did Henry Strole, but finding them deter mined, the ' provisions were divided, and after adieux the three started off. As they were never heard of again, it is reasonable to assumothat ; they were either killed by the •Apaches or perished for the want of food and water- among the network of chasms that beset their course to the east. White and Strole, now sole possessors of the raft, resumed ' their voyage ; the only comfort '"they- found amid the increasing dahgers'and terrors of their situation was in the fact that they had stood by the raft, and in the belief that a few days more would see them through the' canyon, for, as White said in telling his story, "It did not seem possible that such immense walls could continue much further." '* -''' White impressed mo as a frank, truthful man, rather deficient in imagination, but in describing what followed he evinced much feeling, and was at times at loss for a word to describe 1 the wonders and terrors of his environment South' of the San Juan tho raft ' drifted, and ho remembered distinctly that at this point the walls on either hand were composed of lime or sandstone, and he recalled estimating the height to which the river rose In the flood season at from thirty to forty feet, by noting the wood and debris held in the splintered sides of the cliffs. A more terrible situation. 1 than that in which these men now found themselves it would be difficult to conceive. They were on a frail raff ' floating down '■ a tortuous, unknown river, whose precipitous banks towered on either hand from ' four to six thousand feet above them. The only sign of vegetation was here and there a stunted cedar, or branching cactus, 1 clinging to a crevice of the rocks, ' far overhead. Beyond themselves, there was no signs of life. The hum of in sect and the wing of bird had never stirred these profound depths. Now and then the raft shot past side canyons, black and forbid ding, like cells set in the walls of a mighty prison. Looking straight ahead, it seemed, every mile or two, as if the river must come to an end and disappear in the earth at the foot of a mighty •white cliff, on whose far off summit the clouds appeared to rest. For once only in the' : twenty-four hours did the sun look into these profound depths, then left them to the increasing shadows and gathering darkness. While' the clouds were yet red overhead, telling that the sun was setting in the upper world, it would become so dark in the can yon that they could distinctly see the stars. While intensely anxious to get through the canyon, and each succeeding day intensified : the fear that it had no end, yet they took the precaution, as each night approached, to make a landing on some flat rock, or sandy strip of shore, till the following morning. It was nine days since they " started. So far, whilo the river had been rough at times, they had met with no waterfall, cataract, or se rious rapids, nor had any natural bridge spanned the banks, and they were led to hope . that this smooth sailing would continue to the end. On the afternoon of the tenth day the current increased perceptibly, and Henry Strole was steering the raft by means of a long pole. They were whirled down toward one of those precipitous walls that seemed to block their : course, an experience with which they had now grown familiar, when, on turning the sharp bend, White was horri fied to see, near by arid far in front, the river whipped into white waves as it thundered . over a series of rapids and cataracts. He appreciated the danger t and threw himself flat on the raft, at the same time calling to Strole" to follow his example. The ■ young German either did not hear, or failed to obey. With the pole In his hand, he stood erect, vainly striving to guide the . raft, which was '■ __.;-.:•_%•, .\-__*-.- ■.. •,:.-.. ■■"-. -,;.-: . now at the mercy of the maddened waters. . Five minutes of whirling and bumping, then the raft seemed to leap down a sheer descent of ten or fifteen feet and at : the same Um_> i__ OVEB THE CATABACT. '*::-'. White heard a shout, and looking back, _n» saw Strole thrown from the raft to disappear the next instant beneath "the, current The force of the descent loosened the logs at one end, causing them to spread out like a fan, and White was thrown -Into the water. He clung to the raft, however, "with the strength of desperation," and so remained until it had floated into a calmer water. He succeed ed in making a landing on a strip of shore, then tying fast the logs, he sat down to con template the situation. " _ , -. ; White was now alone. The catasrophe that resulted in the death? of, Strole . also de prived him of his arms, which were really of no use in this place, but he also lost what was of greater importance, and that was the last scrap of provisions. ; As he sat there, bewailing the fate of his comrade, and half regretting that he had "not himself shared it, he looked up between the towering clifs, that seemed as if about to fall in and bury him in the earth's depths, and he saw the red-tinged clouds that told him the sun was again set ting in the upper world. . He slept but little that night His mind was as desperate as the situation. But as he took a review of the past, thoughts of his far-away lowa home came to his mind, and a gleam of hope to his heart, and, to use his own language, he made up his mind to "die hard, like a man." The next morning he fastened the ends of the logs and strengthened the . raft by means of some pieces of . wood, which he found in the crevices of the rocks, then again resumed his journey. He also took the precaution to fasten himself to the raft by means of a halter, and this precaution more than once saved his life, for within the next forty-eight hours the raft was wrecked no less than four times. Hunger now came to him as an added calamity. It was sixty hours since he had tasted food, and the want of it began to tell on his strength. The thirteenth day after starting the raft* reached the point where the character of? the banks changed. Hitherto the rocks on either hand had been limestone, sandstone or shale, suddenly they became black, igneous masses, whose sum mits flashed like torches in the sun, and whose lower expanses added to the gloom of the canyon's depths." Near the mouth or a side canyon, which he "believed to be that of the Colorado Chiquito, or : Little Colorado, .the raft which had been -floating quietly, suddenly came to stand. The current of the Chiquito, striking that of the main river at right angles, produced a- whirlpool, into which the raft was swept f. Here, for the first time, White abandoned all hope, and felt that the '■'- end ? had : : -come. About ;•; the vortex j the raft was swept, and the poor fellow closed his eyes, expecting to engulfed in the waters, but as he neared the point of danger the logs appeared to be seized by some invis ible power, and were hurled to the outer edge of the whirlpool, to 'again approach the vortex and to have the same thing repeated. How,, long this continued. White does not recall. -r He became dizzy, and thought he must have fainted. When he re gained consciousness, the raft was away from the whirlpool and floating down the calmest part of the river he had yet encountered. From this point on he met with neither whirl pool nor rapids, but the black, igneous rocks, that seemed higher than ever, and the gloom and silence became appalling. After his ad venture at the mouth of the Chiquito, he had not strength enough to make the customary landing that night, outlay on the raft half crazed with fever and hunger. The following day he • saw ahead a point where the banks of the river, expanded, ex posing a valley several hundred acres in ex tent, in which stunted trees were growing. By a great effort he succeeded in making a landing, and though he did not know the names of the trees, " never having seen that variety before, he found that they bore spiral pods, each containing a -number, of green beans. This was the mezquite tree, for which the Lower Colorado is noted, and the beans of which, when ripe, form an important article of food to the Indians along the river's banks. Having appeased his hunger, and gathered a supply of beans for future use, White again S| #^|r^ MOEMOSS TO THE RESCUE.' cast loose. By this time his clothes were torn into rags, he had lost his hat," and only one boot remained. He had but an indistinct recollection of tho next three '."days. His reason failed him, and ho believed that ho be came insane. About noon of the seventeenth day after starting on this voyage, he?' lay on tho raft, indifferent alike to life or death, when he heard a cheer, to which he was too weak to respond. Then came thb rapid dash of oars, and in another minute manly, bearded faces were loooking down on his with pity. He had reached the settlement atthe mouth of Virgin River, arid with a generous hospital ity the Mormons cared for the stranger thus mysteriously thrown into their midst from the depths of the unknown canyon. . Henry White was. nursed back to health and strength, and to him " belongs whatever glory may attach to the name of the first man who ever traversed from end to end the pro found depths of the Great Colorado .Canyon and lived to tell the story. ..,.. _.,„. Alfred B. Calhoun. More than eight thousand 1 steam traction engines are in use on : the ' highways of Great Britain. By extensive experiment it has been proven that- while a wagon drawn by horses can go but fifteen' or twenty miles a day, a traction engine will pull along a train of wagons at sixty or seventy miles a day. Doctors say that there' is a small ganglion in the throat that has control of the muscles of that . region, and acts 'very . much as if it were a portion of the brain. * iS