The weekly herald. [volume] (Cleveland, Tenn.) 1876-1888, 1878-09-05

I 1t way down in my memory, where l
will remember it, And now, listen.
81 am mailman, but sane enough at
times to know what am about. Years
ago went to California and acquired
an immense fOrtuIh-immense because
il is counted by millions. went mad,
and fearing | should be robbed, !
buried it in a lonely portion of the wild
West. | stationed guard to watch 1t
"a faithful Indian who was my slave
from choice.
81 have chIld-a beautiful girl of
eleven now this fortune mustgo to her.
"Ten years from this New Years Eve,
go to the spot where if buried my gold.
You will find there my Indian slave,
Red Pine, or, If he is dead, another
guard, commissioned by him, who will
know all.
"Show him these gold bullets" and
here the Money-Maniac placed in the
youths hand three riie-bullets of gold,
packet of paper and gold ring;
"show him these bullets, and he will
give yon the gold. He will then take
you to my child, and you will show her
this ring, BY this she will behold in
you the man ] have chosen for her hus-
band. The packet of paper is map of
my treasure-trOye.
"Now go! leave me! go, and in ten
years do my bidding. Go no sooner, no
later-theR-New Years Eve, ten years
hence. Hurry! depart! for | fell it
coming On-the madness; Pm then
ferOcious."
"What?an leave you here topersh." "
Tom Lisle demanded, in horror.
"Yes; wanttO die. Don't touch me,
or III scratch and bite you; and you'll
go mad, too. Leave me your flask, then
get yOu gone. And my curse of gold
90 with you"
The flask was given over without a
murmur, and after a last look of horror
and sympathy upon the suffering
maniac, the trapper-bOv turned and
mounted his pony, and set out over the
white-shrOuded plain.
And the bowling wind pursued him
and rung in his ears the cry that ever
after haunUed his llfe
"Gold gold oh ! it's all mine!"
\
Five years later, Tom Lisle was stand
ting, one summers afternoon, upon the
bank of the Missouri river, idly watch
ing steamboat that was putting along
on its way southwark. when suddenly
his eyes became rivited upon Il man,
who, from an upper deck, was wildly
gesticulating to him. A man in tattered
garb, and with wild, streaming nair and
beard, and burning sunken eyes-Tom
Lisle, now man, recognized him,
though five years had passed since that
wild clustering night Oh Big Flats plain.
1t was the Money Maniac!
Or was it his appartion?
That was not the last time the bor-
derer saw the frightful face, be it dead
or alive
Once he beheld itpressed to a window
pane from the outside, while he was
sitting in st. Louis hotel; again it
glared at him through the window of
his own cabin, away out on the far
frontier.
And ever was the hideOus face a Visi- |
tant to his nocturnal slumber; it haunt
ed him, night and day, as the years |
rolled by, prosperous to him, and the
world wagged on.
4 4
The expiration of ten years from that
evcntful New Years Eve, when he had |
found the maniac upon the plain, dis
covered Tom Lisle riding along in the
mellow moonlight, through broken
piece of country contiguous to the |
North Fork of the Platte river. He |
was a man of siX-and-twenty years,
nova brawny, stalwart knight of the
West, handsome, brave and fearless.
Well mounted, armed and provisioned |
he appeared at home upon the trail-for
he was following trail, which was out
lined upon pen-map held in his hand.
Nor was it far he had to go, tor
snow-covered cabin loomed ahead,
during the next hour, and he reigned |
in his horse before the door.
$50 this is the treasure trove, eh !"
he muttered, glancing sharply around.
"Surely it is lonely enough, if them's |
all the requirements. Hello there, in
side; dye keep stragglers?"
In answer the door swung open, and
grim, stolid-faced Indian stood upon
the threshold, rifle in hand-a burly old |
fellow who showed his age in every |
lineament.
"Wagh what does the white hunter
wantY" was the query, and the savage
never let his eye leave the horseman.
81 want the money of one who called |
himself the Money-Maniac !" replied |
Tom Lisle: "see ! | am the right man."
and he laid the three golden bullets in
the palm of his hand.
"Good the hunter is right. Red
Pine will give up the white miners |
gold, and lead the way to where the
white maiden dwells in the squatter's |
cabin!', was the reply. "Let the hunt
or come with Red Pine ~
SO saying the Indian turned back ill.,
to the cabin, and dismounting from the
horse that had borne him many a mile,
Tom Lisle followed suit. Inside were
warmth and rude frontier comfort, to |
which rnm Ijsla uas usal