The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1894-01-12

tea table, And she was gone.
"Senor Claud." said the don, "you
scarce believe that this wine can be SO
old as l am. You wonder that this
huge structure on this little isle should
be our home. 1t descended to me from
arace who, up to so years ago, were buc-
caneers-what are nowadays termed pi-
rates. This was their stronghold. With
the death CT my father, the last to
follow that life disappeared. There are
in the vaults of Chanson wines and liq-
uors, placed there when he was yet a
boy, and jewels that would ransom a
republic. To whom they once belonged
l know not, and not knowing l have
left them there. My mother was an
American, captured by my father in a
merchant ship, which, after being plum
dered of its valuables, was sent to the
bottom with all on board save her. He
loved her, and in time she loved him
and wooed him from a pirates life. He
gave his interests to his former lieuten-
ants aud their crews and died h in
peace. He only stipulated that they
should find another refuge, and I know
nothing of them. But they are all dead
long since. One only, old Martell, a
Frenchman, who was fathers body serv-
ant, remained with him from his for
mer life, and he long since passed away,
and his remains lie in the vault be-
meath. 1t was his last wish that he
might sleep forever by the jewels, the
money and the merchandise that in his
younger days, under the leadership of
my father, had been plundered from
merchantmen of every nationality. A
strange wish, was it not?"
"It was indeed" 1 replied, "but do
you intend to make no use of all this
| wealth?'
mo. 1t was my dying mothers last
wish that I should not touch it. l have
seen it but twice-once when old Mar
tell showed me the place where he wish
ed his remains to repose after death
he was then bowed with age-again 40
years ago, when I placed his dead body
on the casket of jewels in the vault.
my father had never told me the
story of his early life. 1t was only aft
er his death that I learned it, and her
from old Martell. Even her mother
grieved greatly that he had told me of
the hidden treasure and babe me never
touch it. She said that in fathers lat
ter years he had considered it a curse.
| But come, there's the tea bell. I have
told you more than any soul on earth.
1t must have been my early friendship
for your father that impelled me. Co.
reta knows nothing of all this, and in
her presence do not refer to it. Poor
dearl Her father, mother and my own
| dear wife died when she was but a
child"
At the tea table Coreta joined us. If
I had thought her bewitching before,
when l saw her now in her evening
dress, a string Of pearls around her snow
white neck, a golden bracelet clasped
round each tapering wrist, a diamond
cluster sparkling mid the golden ring
lets of her hair, I thought her beauti-
full. Her maid, Arabia, attended us at
the table, and, oh, what a pleasant hour
there passed to me! And after tea,
when the good don and I adjourned to
a neighboring to test cigars that
came from he knew not where, neither
| their age, with a GOOD night, senor,"
she vanished from my sight. I felt that
] had seen a lovely dream, and when I
had followed Pedro to a room above,
furnished with the elegance of other
chimes than Chili-elegant mahogany,
rare lace curtains, carpets of a value
rarely seen at home, each article of fur
niture denoting a bygone age-and laid
my head upon the pillow it was not to
sleep, but to think of Coreta, of the don,
of the jewels beneath, Of dead Martell,
keeping his silent vigil on the casket,
of piracies, and then wonder from what
cline came each and every article, and
when I slept it was the same.
Pedro awoke me in the morning, and
after breakfast Coreta and I took a
| stroll on the island. There were sur
rounding the house perhaps 10 acres Of
ground that showed a luxuriant growth
of flowers, shrubbery and vegetables
of all descriptions. An old gardener was
working there as we passed. To u
GOOD morning he muttered some ma
tive words that I could not understand,
and his face lit up with pleasure as he
gazed at Coreta.
Poor old JUAN" said she. Gas old
as he is, he goes to every dance in Co.
quombo among his class" And she
gave him a coin.
How many people have you on the
island?" I asked.
"Seven," she answered, besides
grandpa and I-our servants"
I found the island for the greater
part barren and rocky, with here and
there, all over it, an occasional huge
bowlder, such as I have before men
toned.
Its greatest length could not have ex-
| ceeded two miles, and its width not
more than half as much. Nor was it
much elevated above the oceans level,
but yet Coreta said the angriest waves
never more than dashed their spray
half way to the house. But, senor,''
she added, sometimes the roar of the
waves and the shrieking of the wind
-, -aa - 4L.-1~ 4I-@ $500 .1--l =