The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1890-10-29
CAPT. KIDD'S CAVE.
"oueer tales Of Mr.. Hudson, ehi"

yacht shot along the CLASSY river, dodglng
in and out among canal boat villages.
schooners, ice barges, lordly steamers and
a world of small sail. Tell me, have you
never encountered a real, nerve creeping
legend along here among these Highland
shadows-some companion tale to the
wrath out of which Rip Van Wrinkle
crew. You spend months darting up and
down. in and out here amid the bows and
frowns of Crows Nest, Dunderburg and
Storm King"
NV friend, scholarly idler, whose pet
fancy was colonial history, leaned back on
the bench by the tiiler and was lost in
thought. The valley of the Hudson was
visible by turn of the head through more
than fifty miles from the Catskills on the
north to the Fishkill Highlands to the
south of US. We were at that moment be-
tween New Hamburg and Poughkeepsie.
That marvel, the most remarkable bridge
in the world save enc. reached out like a
spiders web from shore to shore above the
cleaning water. A few spires of POUCH.
keepsie pierced the green upon our right.
The castles of rich men peeped at us from
the verdure clad banks, and here and there
held aloft the red, white and blue, hutter
ing in the sultry midsummer sheen.
why, yes indeedr' suddenly exclaimed
my friend we'll 20 ashore there. Old
Geek Watt. Tromps cave Capt. Kidd's
money Did you ever hear of Tromp's
Cavern Well 90 ashore" And promptly
the graceful little craft began to spring
in toward small cove that sweeps in a
few miles below Poughkeepsie, on the east
bank
There's an old chap here who once vol
unteered to lead me in there" said my
friend. "Ah, there's his hut, up there
among those coves of arbor vitH."
We soon got dollar or two into old Pete
Puyster's hand and unlocked his tongue
Yes, there were countless millions in there.
He had seen the chamber where the iron
pots were hid. Why did he not lift a pot
or two out? He shook his head. We
pressed our question. Why should he be
taking rare dollars from visitors, or beg
giEg up and down the highway, if he knew
where there were pots of money?
II took considerable Of this questioning
to get from Puyster this somewhat start
ling reply: "Ye see I'm the great-grand-
child of Geek Watt, Tromp-him as the
cave is named after in these parts. Well,
Geek he is, or was, the child of Capt. Kidd
and-and'-and the old fellow paused
His bronze cheek bones lost their color, the
only spots on his bearded face that cou Id
pale with emotion. 1t took another dolla'
from my friends prodigal hand to open the
old fellows lips again.
After an interval Of deep meditation he
arose feebly, tottered into his hut, brought
out an ancient Dutch Bible and said:
Gentlemen, swear on this that you will
never reveal what Pm bout to show you.
Pm getting very old I'm 81 in August
can't last much longer. / may as well tell
it afore die"
We declined TO swear, but gave the pa
triarch another dollar. Avarice is the sin
of age. We argued long on the point that
he was nearly through with this world
any way, and he would make powerful
friend of my wealthy friend for his last
sickness by wholly revealing to us the
mysteries of the cavern.
Especially DO | wish to know about the
woman in the case" exclaimed my friend.
''Who was Matt Tromp's mother? Who
was the fair prisoner whom Capt. Kidd left
here in charge of his wealth and his baby
herr"
Old Pete stared hard az us.
"Who said anything about any bridei"
he asked.
"Why, you left us to infer that-that
there was a wife, presumably a bride. for
Kidd was not long in one place. And
presume her spirit haunts the place yet,
guarding those pots of gold"
As | volunteered this you could have
Knocked Pete down with a feather. |
feared had destroyed the days fun, for
during the next ten minutes the patriarch
scarcely moved so much rs to breathe.
We gave him yet another dollar.
Then he arose like mannikin, lighted a
lantern which he had probably stolen from
some freight train on Mr.. Vanderbilt's
road just below, and mumbled:
You fellers are prophets. You seem to
know. Take your own risks if you dare.
Come on"
We followed him to the entrance of the
cavern. Every one has read OF the phys
ical tortures endured by adventures while
penetrating a cave. had, but no descrip-
ton can do justice to the facts. You are
prepared of course to ruin your clothing,
but you naturally resent the demands
made on your epidermis.
Yielding all hopes of keeping a whole
skin, you yet draw the line at your bones.
In fact. however, you must draw no lines;
be satisfied If you can draw your breath.
Not that the air was so foul, but have al
ways found it difficult to breathe the dark
2eSs ! must have light in my air, even
the gas burning st night while / sleep. If
81,
Der | should Immediately awaken from the
soundest slumber. This habtude came
with our first baby in the home. can
also sleep better with little noise going
on, for the same reason. Silence is to me
terrible.
The cave was the profoundest silence, the
most awful darkness. The dust of 1000
years lay like a carpet on the stones The
valley winds had strewn the cavern's
throat with sand leaves till we sink into
it three inches. 1t was a perfectly dry
cavern.
do YOU see them shoe tracks," asked
Pete, pointing down, with his lantern held
low. How grateful | was for the voice,
though it was taken up and echoed in dis
NAL cadences. In fact the sepulchral
echoes OF our voices were so frightful that
from the first ! had dreaded TO use this
means of SCATTERING C,Silence.
Them tracks are by Capt. Kidd's own
SHOE, a giants foot. And right here along
side is the pretty little shoe of the woman.
That 5 the time she went in for the last.
He was carrying some of the gold and she
was carrying the baby boy. When she
goes in ana out now she don't leave any
tracks"
Surely there were the footprints, ex
plain it who may.
'She goes il and out nowadays, doe.
she'" asked my friend For my Part