Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1896-02-13
The MISER'S HOARD.

~
old city of San Antonio to where the
river cuts. like a steel knife blade
through the hills? 1t runs i'm the rift
between the hills, ms IL nature had
carved its course I'm the dark, and tan
gled il all up, like silver-blue ribbon
I'm the forest of mesquite fringe.
Have you ever followed its winding
and looked upon the haunted house
standing high above the rivers brim
and seen. dark upon it's Wondering
walls the print of bloody hand!
No? Then will tell you the story;
II happened many years ago.
1t was New Years eve, and Il raw
wind swept through the clefts between
the hills and dashed the spray of the
San Antonio River in mOnot0nOus
swish against the steep, overhanging
bank What with the rush of the wind
through the trees and the beat of the
turbulent waves. minor sounds were
swallowed up in the general discord of
nature
On the bridge spanning the river
stood Francesca Pitro and Juan Tasca,
their s0mbrerOs drawn low over their
faces. their threats muffied to keep of
the cutting wind.
Pitro dashed his hand against the
bridge rail.
Il tell you. Juan" he cried, IF Ras-
chal Quito were not the old msers only
heir, he should never marry my daugh-
ter. \ proud. lazy, trifiing--"
Pitro caught his breath sharply as
the sound of cry, shrill and far away.
foatcd down the river.
What is that:" he said, glasping
Tasca's arm: some one cried as f-as
if in death agony"
Tasca drew his muiticr down from
one ear.
Il hear nothing" he said. 1T was
the cry of iaguar YOU heard, no doubt.
You are excited enough To hear any,
thing
Perhaps" assented Pitro: vet II
seemed TO me there was something in
the cry | recognized
Tasca moved fOrawrd.
You were talking of young Quito
he reminded Yes. the boy is wild
apparently trifiing-but there is IN ele-
ment Of good about him. The way that
old uncle of his treats him is enough to
drive the energy out of any spirited
young fellow: he has never had Il
chance to show what is in him, good or
had Now, there was the time"
II want to hear no praise of Quito.
interrupted Pitro harshly. Here my
daughter might have made fine
match with Senor ROcca: true. Il little
old for so lovely Il girl, but II man Of
standing-of wealth. Yet. what can l
say. Who knows what sums OF gold
that old man Quito has hidden? One
cannot overlook that. And when Mo
nita throws her arms about my neck
and vows that she will marry no one
but Raschal. only Raschal, what can l
say? She is my only one, my little
MOnita."
mo faircr. swecter child ever blessed
fathers home" added Tasca. They
were over the bridge now and nearing
Pitro's home. From II different direc-
tion-who may say just when?--a tall
young figure had left that home.
Good night, Monita, mia," he had
said, folding his beautiful young fiancee
in his arms; you will not have long
TO wait. IL my uncle will, not support
me i'm decency. nor allow me to sup
port myself, we will marry anyhow. l
have a plan. and | will not tarry long
in accomplishing it,"
Monita's soft, dusky eyes flashed n
love light UP into his face; her red lips
closed like a rosebud for a kiss.
Il will never marry any one but YOU"
she cried; lit is only you love-"
With these words ringing in his ears
Raschal drew his cloak around him and
quite shadows.
Some distance down the river Miser
quito, as he was called. sat muttering
i'm his home. The fire was bright that
warmed him: he did not have to spend
money for fuel; the room was comfort
able; his family had been well to do;
all that they left was his.
why does that wretched boy stay
so late?" he muttered. always anxious
to leave me, when anyone might come
in this lonely place and rob me. Always
anxious to work for his living-pah,
AS IL could trust a hireling to protect
me as RSschals presence does. All,
will make him suffer for this delay,
wretch that he is to leave me thus
aloner'
A heavy step sounded on the stair
outside; the door was pushed open rs
the old man unbolted 1t, and a tall,
cloaked figure stepped in the room.
What followed during a bitter alter
cation belated passersby who heard the
raised voices could not say. Was not
Miser Quito forever quarrelling. with
Raschal? And now that he had for
hidden Raschal to marry, was not the
quarrelling likely TO be worse than
ever?
1t was In the gray light of New Years
morning that Marco. the woOdcutter,
looked up as he passed Miser Quito's
house and saw the print Of bloody
hand on the wall beside the door.
Marco grew pale through his sw0rthy
skin. Bloody deeds were not uncommon
sights about San Antonio. Marco had
TO horror of them. But whoever saw a
seal like that upon the wall Of a mans
house? Marco turned with sudden
weakness In his knees and hurried into