Walker Lake bulletin. (Hawthorne, Nev.) 1883-1926, 1896-05-27

our pathway up the mountain side.
/ Wide detours, costing us half day and
sometimes day of valuable time, were
/ perforce made, only to find ourselves at
the top Of preoipice that barred our
progress. We had with infinite trouble
climbed two lofty mountains only TO
find ourselves at the summit out Of
range of the mountain tops, as demand
ed by the legend, when finally refused
| to go farther. 1t was suicidal. Half our
provisions and water were gone. But
Tom pleaded for one more chance. "Do
you see that long ranger" he cried.
Its in one of those. Let's make one
more attempt" In mistaken pity for
him yielded
As We reached the summit, behold |
There were three mountain peaks in
row. Tom sprang forward and after an
other struggle we were at the top of the
central mountain. As we approached
the top it could be seen that there had
been volcanic action in ages past. Ia
petl's eyes were rolling in every direc-
tion, on the look out for some superna-
tural phenomenon. Suddenly bursting
through dense fringe of bushes we found
ourselves on the very edge of a vast
crater. As with common impulse we
looked to the center and there was an
immense bowlder. ''At last" cried
Tom, "at last" Then he ran his eye
along the verge, scanning it foot by
foot. "The path" he almost screamed,
and he stumbled along at pace that,
exhausted as we We're, we could scarce
ly maintain. "Take care, Tom" man
aged to calculate, though was nearly
as wild as he. But Tom apparently
heard nothing. He had eyes and ears
only for the one goal.
The path along the side of the preci-
pice, we could see, led upward from the
wide floor of the arena far below us, but
the top was concealed from our intent
gaze by dense mass of shrubbery.
Around the sides of the crater we half
stumbled, half ran. When we reached
the spot where we thought it possible to
strike upon the opening, we made dashes
here and there into the greenery. After
many disappointments cry from Tom
told me the path had been found. Ia
petl by this time was in state of col
lapse through fear and fatigue. Again
warned Tom to exercise caution, but he
plunged ahead, and l followed as slowly
as l conld. The path downward was not
more than foot in width, and it re-
quired all my strength and dexterity to
keep my footing. Suddenly on rounding
q sharp angle in the face of the preci-
pice 1 was confronted by fiat rock five
minutes climb farther down. 1t seemed
to be set in the face of the crater and to
jut out, Cutting off farther progress in
that direction. The rock was of pc
culiar reddish yellow color and, on look
ing more intently, it seemed to take
upon itself the shape Of a monstroua
hand. 1t flashed over me all at once
this was the golden hand of the Indian g
legend. called to Tom, but he was far
below me. "Tom, the rockl" I cried
hoarsely, and my own voice sounded
strangely in my ears. But Tom had al
ready reached it. Suddenly scream of
anguish shall never forget rose in that
awful stiffness, and in another instant
saw that ponderous hand OF golden stone
sink lower, still lower. Another scream,
wilder than before, and Toms form
could be seen striving vainly to clutch
with his hands the smooth surface as it
sank downward with increasing rapid
ity. shut my eyes and listened The
sight was too awful to bear. When I
opened them, the rock that had turned
ON pivot with poor Tom s weight was
upright and was moving back to its
original place. OF that frightful fall in
to the crater / never dared to think. Old
Zapetl and l had weary days of toll in
our return to the plantation, and my life
was nearly forfeited by fever i'll which
l could hear Tom s last despairing shrek
and see him sliding to his awful death.
Brooklyn Eagle.