Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1894-12-20

mountain ramparts and sent flooa of
light down Lost Chance gulch and
athwart the Ophir trail
And Dick Hunt looked down the trail
and saw again that alluring, beckoning,
seductive procession tossing maddening
faces in the moonlight and heard their
diabolical whisperings: ''Why work any
more? Why not take the shortest, surest
way to fortune? Fortune is coming up
the Ophir trail to you. Seize her, cap
ture her, hold her by her throat and
compel her to be yours.
"By God, that's what I'll doi'' said
Dick Hunt.
He rose, went into his cabin and
lighted his lamp, the lamp which many
a night had been beacon to the slight,
delicate boy who carried the mail across
the mountains over the Ophir trail. Dick
had always liked that lad. Someway,
when he had seen him riding by on his
sure footed, plodding, patient little
burro; when the rider had looked up
to the cabin and swung his sombrero to
the lonely miner, Dick had caught in
the mirror of the postboy's personality
some fleeting, ghostly shadow of his
own lost youth. Glimpses of days long
dead, days when life had been one vast
possibility; when hope had shone not
like an ignis fatuus, but like a signal
fire on a mountain top; when all the
world had been his, flashed before him.
He had come to look for the boys ap-
proach as an event. He liked to hear
his CHEEKY whistle and halloo, to answer
back some rough, good natured greeting,
and then to watch him climb the range
farther, farther, speck, out Of sight
He felt an interest in the young chap
almost as if he belonged to him. He had
grown into his life, as it WERE
And tonight he had made up his mind
to murder himl
Yes, that was the only way to get
anything in this blasted country He
had plodded like burro just long
enough. He knew that Jack Fanchot,
the postman, would carry next morning
the weekly mail over the range He
knew, moreover, that there would be saw
eral thousand dollars in the mailbag
Christmas presents that lucky prospect
ors were sending away to their friends.
He smiled grimly as he thought that
certain people would wait long for their
Christmas present this year. By night
fall he would be in Silverton, and
then
He had no definite plan. The lust for
gold had simply overpowered him. His
only impulse was to steal, kill and get
away. Dick Hunt was for the moment
q madman.
Of course there would be no difficulty
in managing the boy. Dick was twice
his size and then coming upon him and
surprising him-oh, yes, it would be
dead easy! All this while he was eating
his hasty supper and clearing away the
table for operations. He cleaned and re-
loaded his six shooters and put them
under his fabby pillows. Then, taking
a piece Of coarse white cloth, he con-
structed frightfully grotesque mask
and crammed it in the pocket of the coat
he meant to wear on the morrow. When
his CHASTITY preparations were finished,
he lay down and slept.
He wakened at daylight, got up,
cooked his bacon and fapjacks, made
his coffee and tried to eat. But someway
the food stuck in his throat. After
breakfast he buckled on his belt and pis-
tolls, put on the long coat he brought
from the east ten years back, drew his
slouch hat we'll down over his restless,
fiery eyes. and with the stealthy tread
of a wild beast crept through the cedars
and pines down the trail.
When Jack Fanchot came whistling
up the trail, leading his heavily laden
burro and striking listlessly with his
whip at the sagebrush, he was sudden
ly confronted by masked man who
sternly ordered him to throw up his
hands. Hesitating an instant blow
stretched him almost senseless on the
ground AS in hideous dream, he saw
the man stoop over him and take delib-
crate aim at his temple with a six
shooter.
But he did not shoot.
He suddenly paused, and almost with
a groan said aloud, 'No, hang me eff
kin do it. Then, taking coil Of rope
from his pocket, the robber tied the half
conscious boy to tree, rendering him