Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1891-04-25
ing incoherently, disappeared as sud-
denly as he had come.
Brinkley finished his cigar leisurely,
and then strolled back to the caravan.
CHAPTER IN.

The young man of the caravan was
row thoroughly convinced that one OF
two things must be true; either that
William Jones had been instructed to
keep watch upon him; or that he, Will
liam Jones, had secret Of some sort
which he was anxious not to have re-
vealed. After both suppositions had
been duly weighed, the second was ac-
cepted as the most likely; and it forth
with received the young mans consid-
Grafton.
If there was secret, he argued, it
was in some way Onnected--frstly,
with William Jones worldly prosperity;
secondly, with the reports current of
treasure hidden in times past among
the sand-hills or the dangerous cav
erns of the sea. Was it possible, after
all, that those reports were true, and
that in some mysterious manner Jones
had become acquainted with the hid
ing-place? 1t seemed very improbable
for many reasons, one of the chief being
tho mans extreme poverty, which APP
peared to touch the very edge of sheer
starvation.
a little inquiry in the neighborhood,
however, ELECTED the information that
Jones, despite his abject penury, was
certainly well-to-do, and had money in
the bank of the neighboring market
town: that the ruined village of Aber-
glyn belonged almost entirely to him;
and that, in short, he was by nature and
habit a miserly person, who would pre-
fer boarding up whatever he possessed
to purchasing with it the commonest
necessaries of life.
An old coast-guard, whom Brinkley
found next day on the station, was his
chief informant.
Don't you believe him, sir" said this
old salt, "if he tells you he's poor He's
q shark, William Jones is, and couldn t
own up even TO his own father. It's my
belief he's got gold hidden somewhere
among them sand-hills. let alone what
he's got in the savings-bank. All, he's
artful one. is William Jones'"
Brinkley had said nothing of his own
private suspicious, but had merely in
| troduced in a general way the subject
| of Jones' worldly position. Further
conversation with Tim, who had made
few struggling acquaintances in the
| district, corroborated the other testi-
mony. The young man became more
and more convinced that William Jones
was worth studying.
Matt had not turned up that morn
ing. Instead ~ looking after her,
Brinkley took another stroll toward the
vicinity of the Devils Caldron. He had
not gone far before he discovered that
he was watched again. The figure Of
William Jones followed in the distance,
but keeping him well in view.
1t was certainly curious.
He walked over TO the cliffs and look
ed down at the scene of yesterdays
bathing adventure. A strong wind was
blowing, and the waves were surging
up the rocks with deafening roar and
foamy spume. The place looked very
ugly, particularly near the Caldron. All
the passage was churned to milky white,
and the sound from beneath was, to
quote an old simile, like the roar of in
Vulnerable chariots.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw
the head of William Jones eagerly
watching, the body being hidden be-
hind an intervening rock.
"Strange!" he reflected. my preda-
tory friend can't keep his treasure, if
he possesses any, down in that watery
gulf. Yet whenever / come near it his
manner tells me that am warm as
'''ay T.s ss, a@ she sa snatees itsis f4rtncr, ns
set off on brisk walk along the cliffs
leaving the Caidron behind. He found
as he had suspected, that he was nc
longer followed. Returning as he came
and resuming his old position, he saw
William Jones Immediately reappear.
That day he discovered no clew to
the mystery, nor the next. nor the next
again, though on each day he went
through similar performance. Strange
to say, Matt had not put i'll an appear
ance, and for reasons Of his own he had
thought it better not to seek her.
On the morning Of the third day-a
dark, chilly morning, after night of
ran-Tim put his head into the cara
van, where his master was seated at his
easel, and grinned delightedly.
"Mr. Charles! She's come, sor!'
"Who the deuce has Gomez" cried
Brinkley.
"The lady, your honor, to have her
picture taken. VIII / show her into the
parlor"
But as he spoke Matt pushed him
aside and entered. She wore her best
clothes, but looked little pale and
anxious, Brinkley thought, greeting her
with familiar nod.
$50 you've come at last? Tim, get
out, you rascal. 1 thought you had
given me up"
He assumed a coldness, though he felt
it not, for he had made up his mind not
to encourage" the young person.
IL couldn' come before. they wouldn't
let me. But last night William Jones
he didn't come home, and broke open
the box and took out my clothes, and
ran straight off here"
Her face fell as she proceeded, for
she could not fail to notice the GOODNESS
of the young mans greeting.
"Well, since you haze come Wen get
to work." said Brinkley. "It's chilly
| anu udHip OutoiuC, oo VIC IL iSiuaih hCic
in shelter"
Matt took off her hat, and then pro-
cceded to divest herself of her coarse
jacket, revealing for the first time the
low-necked silk dress beneath. Mean
time the yoing man placed the sketch
in position. Turning presently, he be-
held Matt's transformation.
Old and shabby as the dress was, torn
here and there, and revealing beneath
glimpses of coarse stockings and clumsy
boots, it became her wonderfully. As
a result Of much polishing with SOAP
and water her face shone again, and hel
arms and neck were white as snow
Thus attired, Matt looked no longer Q
long, shambling girl, but tall, bright
resplendent young lady.
1t was no use. Brinkley could not
conceal his admiration. Mats arms
, alone were enough to make o painter
wild with delight.
@Why, Matt, you look positively mag
nificent. l had no idea you were 50
J pretty"