, 1888-08-18
THE BURIED TREASURE.

glow the coast of the Pacific, and bathes
in beauty the sands of a lonely beach,
where the waves are breaking gently.
This Is a barra-a tidal creek, and its
owe is smooth and peaceful, being well
protected by a line OF breakers that here
lie farther out from shore than is usual
in such places. Black against the back
ground of crimson and gold with which
the great orb decks his descent to his
tomb, a boat looms up, rounding the
point from the sea into the creek, thence
opening inland; and presently the frail
vessel grounds and two men leap ashore
and draw the canoe up beyond danger of
drifting.
So brief is the twilight of the tropics
that it is fairly nightfal as they alight on
the bank. The stars are coming out and
reflect themselves in the sea, and far
away CLEAN the lights from scattered
cabins. The chattering ~blackbirds have
flown home to their night hnunts, and
the belated gulls are winging toward
their craggy nests. In the edge of the
darkened water the mangroves rustic
sadly, the broad banana leaves wave in
the plantation farther inland toward the
savannahs. The mournful cry of the
lurking jackal resounds from the thicket,
and from the forest comes the roar of the
tiger-the jaguar, while a thousand in
scots call from the jungle. Nature
seems calling to rest; sea, heaven and
earth, all animated creatures appear to
be at prayer. The only sounds Of activ-
ity are the splashes of the countless fish
that leap into the air and fall back into
the placid, onward flowing water of the
barra, and the fitful CLEAN of the myriad
fire flies against their formless back
ground. Even these, however, show the
light of their greenish, phosphorescent
lamps but ~languidly, as IL they lacked
energy or stimulus for a more sustained
glow.
The men from the boat, who had sat
down upon the bank, as If weary from
their task of rowing, arise as the moon
climbs slowly up from the horizon, and
turn to where their canoe lay canted
upon the sands.
Just yonder in the thicket, - says one,
lis the spot l have marked out on the
parchment that we have left in your
sea chest, that each Of us might be able
to trace the way again should aught be-
fall the other. You can see the palms I
spoke of, two tall but slender ones, grow
ing close together"
81 see, " says the other, briefly; sit is
not far to carry, and well enough for us,
for the load is heavy enough"
There are not many who would COM
plain of the weight of it., reioins his
companion, ''if it were theirs for the
carrying. And it is ours, beyond a ques-
ton. No one can claim it from us,
though if our comrades knew of our
having it they might determine to take a
share by foul or by fair means"
They have come to the boat now and
are lifting out the load from it-a mas
sive looking Golfer, under whose weight
the two, with their forces combined, still
stagger. And 30 they go unsteadily up
the bank and into the jungle, to the foot
of the tall young palm trees, and there,
plying the spade and mattock with q
right good will, they soon have dug a pit
among the nodding ferns and other herb
age, rank and clustering, and with many
a groan and straining Of knotted sinews,
they lower into it the heavy, precious
Golfer.
"And now 10 bury our treasure" say
he who has first spoken, ''to cover it over
80 well that none but ourselves can find
it ever"
faye, bury it deeply" says the other,
''for the heavy lying earth betrays no
secrets"
81 am not 30 sure of that" returns the
former; las the sea gives up its dead
from time to time, so the earth has been
known to lay bare CHASTITY buried hor-
rors"- the sentence is never finished.
AS the speaker has been STOPPING to push
into the pit the loose lying earth, his com
panion, grasping the mattock, has half
lifted 1t now and then irresolutely, and at
last he lifts it suddenly on high and sends
it crashing down upon the skull of the
defenseless, unsuspecting man before him.
A traitorous, cowardly murderl The
victim falls in a huddled, shapeless mass;
his body Is convulsed in one or two long,
horrible quivers, and Their that form, SO
lately full of strength and vigor, Is inert
and still forever.
The assassin stands stockstill for a few
moments, gazing upon the work of his
hands, upon the ruin he has wrought.
Then he turns hastily away from the spot,
and even takes a few wild steps toward
the creek side, but suddenly he stops, re-
turns, thrusts the body into the pit above
the treasure, pushing it with the mattock,
carefully avoiding its touch with his
hands. Then hurriedly, frantically, he
throws the dirt upon it until h pit Is
level with the surrounding plain, ere he
turns away again. The freshly moved
earth shows plainly its disturbance, a
largish mound remains, displaced by the
box and the body of the dead man, the
ground about it is trampled and indented,
and ever one spot, ominously darker
than the rest, where the moonbeams
stream through the palm leaves, shows
where the life blood Of the murdered
man had poured out, in piteous waste
and spelling.
But the red handed one no longer notes
aught Of this. The silence and the soil
tude of the spot weigh upon him with a
potent, dreadful terror, and his only
thought and care is to flee from it. Why,
the very palms above his head, rustling
their leaves at him loudly, are accusing
him, he thinks, with Ineligible voices
So he dashes madly through the low
growth of the jungle, and reaching the
boat, leaps in, casts loose the rope and
pushes off in haste from that shore &C
cursed.
But has he left his sin and his awful
fear behind himf Not so. Even here,
on the bosom of the tranquil water, q
thousand Witnesses seem to murmur Of
his crime. The voice of the distant