The Penn's Grove record., 1886-06-19

while already the DrlgnG rays VI WIG
u are struggling forth. :,
80. what a beautiful little rainbow, y
cries Swain, as from the rock ON when
they are now standing he catches sight
of the exquisite arch. whose prismatlc
hues sparkle brilliantly between MIN
and the dashing foam of the cascade.
Eyes. but wonder Is a much more
beautiful one," says Mr.. Monk, point
ing down the gorge to where a magnlh-
cent bow, intensely vivid in its color
ing, spans the rugged walls or the M
yon.
"That is, indeed, a beautyl" ex-
claims Aunt Tina, as she turns round
the better to admire it. 81 don't know
when | have seen one of such intense
coloring. If the ol6-fashloned child
stories are to be believed, there must be
very gorgeous treasure indeed at the
foot Of that rainbow"
And why not believe themP" ques-
tions Mr.. Monk, who, In spite OF his
rough garb, is a well-informed, pleas
ant young gentleman. "For my part,
| have never yet gotten rid of the idea
that If one could really find the end of
the bow he would also find the treas
ure."
Eyes, certainly" says Aunt Tina,
with a smile, SIT he could find the end
of the bow"
'Mr. Monk" questions a sharp,
high-pitched voice at this moment.
wv ere do you think the end of the
rainbow ls?"
Mr.. Monk turns his head to follow
the direction pointed out by the nerv-
GUS brown finger.
That" ne repeats, with a mischiev-
ous twinkle in his eye. "Why, down
Turner's Point, to be sure"
II believe, Mr.. Monk says Aunt
Tina, again, that you told me many
beautiful stones of rare value have been
found in the rugged cliffs Of the can
yon.
eyes" returns Mr.. Monk several
fine rubies, sapphires and emeralds have
been picked up, it is said, though none
of late. | have never been 10 fortunate
as to find one myself" with a smile,
''but the guide who was here before
me stumbled upon an exceedingly fine
emerald in the gorge below Turner's
Point"
All the way back to the hotel the
words ''Down Turner's Point, to be
surel" kept beating time, syllable by
syllable, through SWANS busy brain.
"Of course 1t Is" he reasons. "Where
else could it be? Why, hasn't he seen
it with his own eyes, resting right
against the rugged points of the big
gest b~owlder2" He has marked the
place well. There is a stunted pine at
one side and a great clump of laurel
Observation-Disclosures, Aunt Tina
calls them. On the other there Is a
great rock that shines in the sunlight
like it is streaked with silver, while
here and there a cluster of beautiful
ferns and MOSES and a tiny cascade
trIckling down its sides-Ribbon Cas-.
cade, Mr.. Monk calls it. OF course
the treasure is therel And oh, how he
does want it'll Not SO much for himself
as for Aunt Tina-Aunt Tina, whom
he loves so dearly in spite of the
thought that sometimes she is a little
too hard on him. But at others, how
she does pet and humor hlml And o,
they are so happy togetherl Happier
still, perhaps, because in all the world
they have only each other. And there
is Aunt Tina's book: How hard she
has worked on it, day and night, and
how much she does want it publishedl
But the hard-hearted publishers, to
whom many pages of the snowy manu-
script have been submitted, have de-
clared they can't touch it till a part, at
least, of the money is forthcoming, to
pay for some sort of plates. Swain
wonders what kind Of plates they can
be, and what in the world dishes have
to do with printing. He has ventured
to ask Aunt Tina once, but being alb
sorbed in her work, she has only an
swered briefly, stereotype plates, and
so he is as much IN the dark as ever.
If he could only get that money for
Aunt Tina; which she has never yet
been able to get herself, for Aunt Tina
is only a poor teacher with a meagre
salary.
At 3 o'clock this same afternoon,
when every guest of the house is enjoy
ing his or her %siesta, shut in the seclu-
sion of their rooms, a slight figure clad
in flannel Knlckerbocker, with a sailor
waist of the same, Issues, stick in hand,
from a side entrance.
Ten minutes later the same figure
makes its way along the railroad track
to where a small foot-path turns off to
the left with a stunted pine near at
hand labelled: $50 Turner's Point"
at doesn't look so very awful" ex-
claims Swain, as the path followed; he
stands at length beside a clump of
dwarfed pines and looks down upon
the river, much more peaceful here than
a hundred yards above, where its fury
seems to have been finally expended in
the last of the great cascades.
But IN spite of this peace and quiet.
the scens formed by the ~stupendous
masses of granite upheaved on every
side, with their bare and frownIng
lodges and the sheer precipitous fall of
their rocky sides for nearly one thous-
and feet, is enough to inspire even the
boldest with fear.
A strange feeling OF awe and dread
steals for a moment into the child's
heart, and he partly turns as though he
would go back. The next, apparently
ashamed of even this faint show of
cowardioe, he grasps his stick firmly
and begins to climb downward.
There is no regular path, but he
catches sight here and there of a trod-
den tuft of grass and the shredded
twigs of ash and laurel that show
plainly where the foot and hand Of the
daring climber have left their prints.
Very cautiously Swain picks his way
first, then, as he finds it easier than
he has thought, he grows holder. Fin
ally, when about 800 feet down. he
crawls to the edge and looks over.
"The very placer' he cries excltedly,
''and / just know it is down therel"
But the "down there'' is fully $50
feet beneath him, and is another pro-
iectlng ledge, but much larger, and
covered with ferns and MOSES,
AS he LEANS further over, a tiny
something that glitters in the SUMS
rays catches his eye.
1t is imbsdded in the soil Of the ledge
a foot or SO beneath him.
Reaching down he quickly grasps it,
and then with an exultant cry springs