PIECES 33&
WKu'l IT'- "M
BEING THE AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE OF V
TREASURE DISCOVERED IN THE
- j% "
OVfM TO THE PUBLIC
cx WV/6//T &y ■. .'. -'.;*
A SHAPE OF WITCHCRAFT.
Synopsis—The man who tella thi3
story—call him the hero, for short
is visiting his friend, John Saun
ders. British official in Nassau,
Bahama islands. Charles Webster,
a. local merchant, completes the
£ri» of friends. Saunders produces
a written document purporting to
be the death-bed statement of Hen
ry P. Tobias, a successful pirate,
made by him in 1859. It gives two
tvvo millions and a half
rvf treasure were buried by him and
companions. The conversation
e-f the three friends is overheard by
a pock-marked stranger. The docu
aoent disappears. Saunders, how
ever, has a copy. The hero, deter
mined to seek the burled treasure,
charters a schooner. The pock-
Bnsirked man is taken on as a pas
aesger. On the voyage somebody
exspties the gasoline tank. The hero
and the passenger clash, the pas
senger leaving a manifesto bearing
signature, "Henry P. Tobias,
Jr.'* The hero lands on Dead Men's
Ciswaa. There Is a fight, which is
foitowed by several funerals. The
2k*ro finds a cave containing the
skeletons of two pirates and a mas
sive chest—empty save for a few
pieces of eight scattered on the
Jiottom. The here returns to Nas
sau and by good luck learns the
location of Short Shrift island.
Webster buys the yawl Flamingo,
aad he and the hero sail for Snort
Sforift island. As the Flamingo
leaves the wharf a young fellow,
""Jack Harkaway," jumps aboard
and is allowed to remain. Jack
proves an Interesting and mysteri
ous passenger. Tne adventurers
capture Tobias. "Jack Harkaway"
preves to be a girl and disappears.
The hero sails to Short Shrift is
land, sees an entrancing girl with
a Spanish dubloon.
CHAPTER I—Continued.
—9—
'My presence seemed at once to put
Iter on her guard. The music of her
voice was suddenly hushed, as though
she had hurriedly, almost in terror,
mmnvn a robe of reticence about an
Impulsive naturalness not to be dis
played before strangers. As for the
-storekeeper, he was evidently a fa-
acquaintance. He had known
Uter —he said after she was gone—
ainee she was a little girl.
While he spoke, my eyes had acci
9atal|y fallen on the coin still in his
feasor with which she had just paid
lim.
"Why," I said, "this is a Spanish
iioabloon!"
what it Is," said the English
mam (Laconically.
That doesn't it strike you as strange
that she should pay her bills with
Spanish doubloons?" I asked.
*lt did at first," he answered; and
then, as if annoyed with himself, he
was attempting to retrieve an expres
sion that carried an implication he evi
dently didn't wish me to retain, he
added: "Of course, she doesn't always
pay in Spanish doubloons. I suppose
have a few old coins in the fam
ily aDd use them when they run out of
others. 1 '
It was as lame an explanation as
well could be, and no one could doubt
tttiar, whatever his reason for so doing,
J&e was lying.
"Bat haven't you trouble in dispos
ing of them?" I inquired.
"Gold is always gold," he answered,
"and we don't see enough of it here to
tee particular as to whose head is
stamped upon it, or what date. Be
sidtes, as I said, it isn't as if I got many
«£ tfceru; and you can always dispose
af them as curiosities."
"Will you sell me this one?" I asked.
■*"l see no harm in your having it," he
said, "but I'd just as soon you didn't
Mention where you got It."
■"'Certainly," I answered, disguising
-ra& wonder at his secretiveneSs. "What
ss r A worth?"
He named the sum of sixteen dol
lars and seventy-five cents. Having
paei him that amount I bade him
iFGsai-night, glad to be alone with my
eaypsr, glowing thoughts. These I took
wHto iih> o si l»if of roral bench, made
ffawbSj white by the moon, rustled
***** giant palms, and whispered to
I*2? the vast living jewel of the sea. I
out my strange doubloon and
flafffeed it in the moon.
brightly as It shone, it hardly
SfMsned as bright as it would have
seemed a short while back; or, per
haps it were truer to say that in an
otfteer. newer aspect it shone a hun
fimwi times more brightly. The adven
trwe to which it called me was* no
longer single and simple as before, but
ai confused goal of cloudy
sjfiaaders. the burning core of which
—rari?Jenly raying out, and then lost
in brightness—were the eyes of
a sterious girl.
CHAPTER 11.
VQfwder the Influence of the Moon.
My days now began to drift rather
Aimlessly, as without apparent pur
jpnse I continued to linger on an island
eba£ might well seem te have little
RiSzzaction to a stranger—how little I
c«v&£ see by the mystification of the
good Tom, to whom, fov J nee, of
course, I could not confine. Yet I had
a vague purpose; or, at least, I had a
feeling that, if I waited on something
would develop in the direction of my
hopes. The doubloon still suggested
that it was the key to a door of fas
cinating mystery to which chance
might at any moment direct me.
And —why not admit it? —apart from
my buried treasure, to the possible
discovery of which tlie doubloon
seemed to point. I was possessed with
a growing desire for another glimpse
of those haunting eyes. They needed
not their association with the mys
terious gold, they were magnetic
enough to draw any man, with even
the rudiments of imagination, along
the path of the unknown. All the
paths out of the little settlement
were paths into the unknown, and, day
after day, I foiTlowed one or another of
them out into the wilderness, taking a
gun with me, as an ostensible excuse
for any spying eye, and bringing back
with me occasional bags of the wild
pigeons which were plentiful on the
island.
One day I had thus wandered unus
ually far afield, and at nightfall found
myself still several miles from home
on a rocky path overhanging the sea.
There was no sign of habitation any
where. It was a wild and lonely place,
and presently over its savage beauty
stole the glamor of the moon rising far
over the sea. I sat down on a ledge
of the clifls and watched the moon
light grow in intensity as the darkness
of the woods deepened behind me. It
was a night full of witchcraft; a night
on which the stars, the moon, and the
sea together seemed hinting at some
wonderful thing about to happen.
Then, as if the fairy night were
matching my thoughts with a chal
lenge. what was this bright wonder
suddenly present on one of the boul
ders far down beneath me? —a tall
shape of witchcraft whiteness, stand
ing, full in the moon, like a statue in
luminous marble of some goddess of
antiquity.
My eyes and my heart together told
me it was she; and, as she hung poised
over the edge of the water in the at
titude of one about to dive, a turn of
her head gave me that longed-for
glimpse of those living eyes filled with
moonlight. She stood another mo
ment, still as the night, in her loveli
ness; and the next she had dived di
rectly into the path of the moon. I
saw her eyes moonfilled again, as she
came to the surface, and began to
swim—not; as one might have expect
ed, out from the land, but directly in
toward the unseen base of the cliffs.
The moon-path did lead to a golden
door in the rocks, I said to myself,
and she was about to enter it. It was
a secret door known only to herself;
and then, for the first time that night,
I thought of that doubloon.
Perhaps if I had not thought of it I
should not have done what then I did.
There will, doubtless, be those who
will censure me. If so, I am afraid
they must. At all events, it was the
thought of that doubloon that swayed
the balance of my hesitation in taking
the moon-path in the track of that
bright apparition.
I looked for a way down to the edge
of the sea. It was not easy to find, but
after much perilous scrambling I at
length found myself on the boulder
which had so lately been the pedestal
of that Radiance; and, in another mo
ment. I had dived into the moon-path
and was swimming toward the mys
terious golden door.
Before me the rocks opened in a
deep narrow crevasse, a long rift, evi
dently slashing back into the cliff, be
neath the road on which I had been
treading. I could see the moonlit
water vanishing into a sort of gleam
ing lane between the vast overhang
ing walls.
Presently I felt my feet rest lightly
on firm sand, and, still shoulder deep
in the water, I walked on another yard
or two—to be brought to a sudden
stop. There she was coming toward
me, breast high in that watery tunnel!
The moon, continuing its serene ascen
sion, lit her up with a sudden beam.
O! shape of bloom and glory!
For a moment we both stood looking
at each other, as if transfixed. Then
she gave a frightened cry and put her
hands up to her bosom; as she did so
a stream of something bright—like
gold pieces—fell from her mouth, and
two like streams from her opened
hands. Then, as quick as light, she
had darted past me and dived into the
moon-path beyond. She must have
swam under the water a long way, for
when I saw her dark head rise again
in the glimmering path it was at a
distance of many yards.
I had no thought of following her,
but stood in a dream among the wa
tery gleams and echoes.
For me had come that hour of won
der ; for me out of that tropic sea, into
whose flawles* deeps my eyes had so
THE COURIER, FOREST CITY, N. C.
often gone adream, had risen the crea
ture of miracle.
O! shape of moonlit marble ! O!
holiness of this night of moon and
stars and sea!
Yes! I was in love. Yet I hope, and
think, that the reader will not resent
this unexpected incursion into the
realms of sentiment when he consid
ers that my sudden attack was not,
like Host such sudden attacks, an in
terruption in the robuster course of
events, but, instead, curiously in the
direct line of my purpose. Because
the eyes of an unknown gitl had thus
suddenly enthralled me, I was not,
therefore, to lose sight of thai purpose.
On the contrary, they had suddenly
shone out on the pathway along which
I had been blindly groping. But for
the accident of being in the dirty little
store at so psychological a moment,
hearing that strangely familiar voice
and catching sight of that mysterious
doubloon as well as those mysterious
eyes, I should have set sail that very
night and given up John P. Tobias'
second treasure in final disgust. As it
was, I was now warmly on the track
of some treasure —whether his or not
—with two bright eyes further to point
the way. Never surely did a man's
love and his purpose make so practical
a combination.
When I reached my lodging at last
in the early morning following that
night of wonders my eyes and heart
were not so dazed with that vision in
the cave that I did not vividly recall
one important detail of the strange
picture—those streams of gold that
had suddenly poured out of the mouth
and hands of the lovely apparition.
Without doubting the evidence of
my senses, I was forced to believe
that, by the oddest piece of luck, I had
stumbled upon the hiding place of that
hoard of doubloons, on which my fair
unknown drew from time to time as
she would out of a bank.
But who was she? —and where was
her home? There had seemed no sign
of habitation near the wild place
where I had come upon her, though, of
course, a solitary house might easily
have escaped my notice hidden among
all that foliage, particularly at night
fall.
To be sure, I had but to inquire of
the storekeeper to learn all I wanted;
but I was averse from betraying my
interest to him or to anyone in the
settlement—for, after all, it was my
own affair, and hers. So I determined
to pursue my policy of watching and
waiting, letting a day or two elapse
before I again went out wandering
with my gun.
I left the craggy bluff facing the
sea and plunged into the woods. I
had no idea how dark it was going to,
but, coming out of the sun, I was at
once bewildered by the deep and com
plicated gloom of massed branches
overhead, and the denser darkness of
shrubs and vines so intricately inter-
I voven as almost to make a solid wall
She Had Dived Directly Into the
Path of the Moon.
about one. Then the atmosphere was
so close and airless that a fear of suf
focation combined at once with the
other fear of being swallowed up in all
this savage green life, without hope of
finding one's way out again into the
sun. I fought my way in but a very
few yards when both these fears
clutched hold of me with a sudden hor
ror, and the perspiration poured from
me; I could no longer distinguish be
tween the way I had come and any
other part of the wood! Indeed, there
was no way anywhere!
I must have battled through the
veritable inferno of vegetation for at
least an hour —though it seemed a life
time. Clouds of particularly unpleas
ant midges filled my eyes, not to speak
of mosquitoes and p peculiar kind of
persistent stinging fly was adding to
my miseries, when at last, begrimed
and dripping with sweat, I stumbled
out, with a cry of thankfulness, on to
comparatively fresh air and some
thing like a broad avenue running
north and south through the wood. It
was Indeed densely overgrown, and
had evidently not been used for many
years. Still, it was comparatively
passable, and one could at least see
the sky and take long breaths once
more.
Still there was no sign of a house
anywhere. Presently, however, as I
stumbled along I noticed something
looming darkly through the matted
forest on my left that suggested walls.
Lo Aing closer, I saw that it was the
ruin of a small stone cottage, roofless,
and indescribably swallowed up in the
pitiless scrub. And then, near by, I
descried another such ruin, and still
another —all, as it were, sunk in the
terrible gloom of the vegetation, as
sometimes, at low tide, one can dis
cern the walls of a ruined village at
the bottom of the sea.
Evidently I had come upon a long
abandoned settlement, and presently,
on some slightly higher ground to the
left, I thought I could make out the
half-submerged walls of a much more
ambitious edifice. Looking closer, I
noted, with a thrill of surprise, the
beginning of a very narrow poth, not
more than a foot wide, lefi ! i'ng up
through the scrub in its direction.
Narrow as It was, it had cl*avly been
kept open by the not-infMquent pas
sage of feet With a certain eerie feel
ing, I edged my way into it, and, after
following it for a hundred yards or so,
found myself close to the rooness ruin
of a spacious stone house with some
thing of the appearance of an old Eng
lish manor house. Mullioned windows,
finely masoned, opened in the shat
tered wall, and an elaborate stone
staircase, in the interstices of which
stout shrubs were growing, gave, or
once had given, an entrance through
an arched doorway—an entrance now
stoutly disputed by the glistening
trunk of a gum-elemi tree and endless
matted ropelike rocts of giant vines
and creepers that writhed like serp
ents over the whole edifice. Forcing
my way up this staircase, I found my
self in a stone hall some sixty feet
long, at one end of which yawned a
huge fireplace, its flue mounting up
through a finely carved chimney, still
standing firmly at the top of the
southern gable.
How had this almost baronial mag
nificence come to be in this far-away
corner of a desert island? At first 1
concluded that here was a relic of the
brief colonial prosperity of the Ba
hamas, when its cotton lords lived
like princes, with a slave population
for retainers —days when even the
bootblacks In Nassau played pitch
and-toss with gold pieces; but as I
considered further, it seemed to me
that the style of the architecture and
the age of the building suggested an
earlier date. Could It be that this had
been the home of one of those early
eighteenth century pirates who took
pride in flaunting the luxury and pomp
of princes, and who had perhaps made
this his headquarters and stronghold
for the storage of his loot on the re
turn from his forays on the Spanish
Main? This, as the more spirited con
jecture, I naturally preferred, and, in
default of exact information, decide i
to accept.
The more I pondered upon this
fancy and remarked the extent of the
ruins including several subsidiary
outhouses —and noted, too, one or two
choked stone staircases that seemed
to descend into the bowels of the
earth, the more plausible it seemed.
In one or two places where I sus
pected underground cellars—dungeons
for unhappy captives belike, or strong
vaults for the storage erf the treasure
—I tested the floors by dropping heavy
stones, and they seemed unmistakably
to reverberate with a hollow rumbling
sound; but I could find no present way
of getting down into them. As I said,
the staircases that promised an en
trance into them were choked with
debris. But I promised myself to
come some other day, with pick and
shovel, and make an attempt at explor
ing them.
Meanwhile, after poking about in as
much of the ruins as I could penetrate,
I stepped out through a gap in one
of the walls and found myself again
on the path by which I had entered.
I noticed that it still ran on farther
north, as having a destination beyond.
So leaving the haunted ruins behind
I pushed on and had gone but a short
distance when the path began to de
scend slightly from the ridge on which
the ruins stood; and there, in a broad
square hollow before me, was the wel
come living green of a flourishing plan
tation of coconut palms! It was evi
dently of considerable extent —a quar
ter of a mile or so, I judged—and the
palms were very thick and planted
close together. To my surprise, too, I
observed, as at length the path brought
me to them after a sharp descent, that
they were fenced in by a high bam
boo stockade, for the most part in
good condition, but here and there
broken down with decay.
Through one of these gaps I pres
ently made my way and found myself
among the soaring columns of the
palms, hung aloft with clusters of the
great green nuts. Fallen palm fronds
made a carpet for my feet —very pleas
ant after the rough and tangled way I
had traveled, and now and again one
of the coco nuts would fall down with
a thud amid the green silence. One
of these, which narrowly missed my
head, suggested that here I had the
opportunity of quenching very agree
ably the thirst of which I had become
suddenly aware. My claspknife soon
made an opening through the tough
shell, and, seated on the ground, I set
my mouth to it, and, raising the nut
above my head, allowed the "milk"—
cool as spring water —to gurgle deli
ciously down my parched throat. When
at length I had drained it, and my
head once more returned to its natural
angle. I was suddenly made aware that
my poaching had not gone unobserved.
Most surprising people in
a most curious habitation.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
In Large Supply.
When you- start to borrow trouble
the loan is generally oversubscribed.—
Boston Transcript.
BkitcmenSi
CABINETUJ
"The anxiety of some people to make
new friends is so intense that they
never have time to have old ones.'
HOT SOUPS FOR COOL EVENINGS.
The expert soup-maker will obtain
delicious flavors by using leftover
_ meats and vege
f tables. After ccok
—iv ing the soup should
be strained and
thickened as usual
with a binding of
butter and flour
Corn Chowder.—
Take about four teaspoonfuls of fat
salt pork cubes and try them out;
one sliced onion and cook five min
utes, stirring often to keep the onion
from burning. Parboil four cupfuls
of potato slices in water to cover,
drain and add the potatoes to the fat
and onion, with two cupfuls of boiling
water; -cook until the potatoes are
soft, add a can of corn, a quart of
milk, salt, pepper and buttered crack
ers. Serve with the buttered crackers
on top. This recipe will serve six.
Cream Soup.—Put thin slices of
bread as thin as shavings with a small
amount of butter in a saucepan and
brown; pour over enough boiling wa
ter to make the soup needed, add salt
to taste and let the mixture boil up;
then remove the saucepan and stir
in a large cupful of cream, the thick
er the better. Be sure to have it well
salted or the soup will taste flat.
Cream of Peanut Soup. —Put a cup
ful of peanut butter into a quart of
milk, add salt, cayenne, a tablespoon
ful of grated onion, a bay leaf, celery
salt, and cook ten minutes in a double
boiler. Moisten a tablespoonful of
cornstarch with cold milk and stir
until smooth, add to the soup and
cook ten minutes. Strain and serve
with cubes of toasted bread.
Quick Egg Soup. —Stir a teaspoon
ful of beef extract into a quart of boil
ing water, add a grated onion, celery
salt, salt and pepper to taste. Pour
boiling hot into a tureen with four
tablespoonfuls of boiled rice and two
well beaten eggs.
Split Pea Soup. —Pick over, wash
and put to soak in plenty of cold wa
ter one cupful of split peas. In the
morning cook in two quarts of water,
add a two-inch cube of salt pork and
one sliced onion. Cook and stir often
until the peas are soft, rub through
a sieve, thicken with two tablespoon
fuls of flour and butter, add milk to
thin the puree to Ihe desired consist
ency. Season well and serve very hot.
Ordinarily we find fn people the
qualities we are mostly looking for or
the qualities that our prevailing char
acteristics call forth. The larger the
nature the less critical and cynical
it is, the more it is given to looking
for the best in others.—Trine.
CHEESE DISHES
Cheese naturally suggests itself as a
substitute for meat, since it is rich in
the same kind of
sSMj?' 4ff:u n "trients whi c h
meat supplies; it is
aU also a food which
is staple and may
be used in a varie-
Stuffed Potatoes
With Chees e.
Split hot baked potatoes lengthwise,
remove contents without injuring the
skin of the potato. Mash the potato,
add seasoning and enough hot milk
and butter to season well; beat until
light, then refill the skin, piling It up
lightly; do not smooth the top. Sprin
kle with grated cheese and reheat in
oven until cheese is melted and a
delicate brown.
Rice Baked With Cheese. —Cook a
cupful of rice in a large amount of
boiling water, at least three quarts,
adding a teaspoonful of salt. When
tender drain and cover the bottom of
a buttered baking dish with a layer of
the rice; sprinkle with grated cheese,
a dash of cayenne pepper and add
milk to half fill the dish; cover with
crumbs and bake until the milk is ab
sorbed and crumbs brown.
Pittsburgh Potatoes. Cook one
quart of diced potato cubes with a
small minced onion until the potatoes
are nearly tender; add a teaspoonful
of salt and half a can of minced red
peppers and cook until the potatoes
are done. Drain and put into a baking
dish. Make a sauce of two table
spoonfuls of butter and flour, one tea
spoonful of salt and a. pint of milk,
then add one-half pound of grated
cheese. Pour this over the potatoes
and bake until a golden brown.
Baked Fish with Piquant Stuffing.—
Bass or any firm-fleshed fish of moder
ate size may be used for baking. If
the fish lacks fat insert strips of pork
in gashes along each side of the fisb.
Baked Eggs Wit.h Cheese. —lireak
four eggs into a buttered baking dish
and cook in a hot oven until they be
gin to turn white around the edge.
Cover the eggs with a white sauce and
over this a cupful of cheese and bread
crumbs well mixed. Season and brown
the crumbs in a hot oven.
Egg shells should be carefully scrap
ed out with a teaspoon; someone who
ha* tried It says that the bulk of one
egg Is saved in the scraping of a dozen
shells, and with eggs worth four or
five cents apiece, it Is worth while.
"^VU*^IVC£J2
&DOY&
SCOUTS
(Conducted by National Council Of th«
Boy Scouts of America.)
EVER ON "BAD INDIAN" HUNT?
The boys of Jamestown, N. Y., were
In camp this season on Chautauqua
lake, at Sylvan park, and It was de
termined to hold an Indian hunt. The
camp director was appointed the "Bad
Indian," who, with four others had
made a successful raid on the camp.
On an appointed morning he and
his four followers started out at ten
o'clock to hide somewhere in the vi
cinity. They were to be given three
hours' headway.
At one o'clock five scouting parties,
each headed by a first class scout,
started out from camp to bring in the
"Bad Indian" and his followers.
One of the conditions of the hunt
was that these Indians should find a
place to camp, and must build a fire
and keep it burning until six o'clock
in the evening, unless they were soon
er found by a scouting party.
The fleeing "Redskins" located a
camp site and masked it on three sides,
one of the conditions being that it
should be open on the fourth in plain
view of all who might happen to pass
that way. Then they cut the wood for
the day's requirement—not long sticks,
but about eight inches in length; and a
regular Indian fire was built.
Another condition of the hunt was
that the Indians should not leave the
place which they selected as their
camp, but must stay there until six in
the afternoon.
During the day one scouting party
passed within 25 feet of the "Bad In
dian" camp, and on the open side of
their fire, but sc intent ware they on
what was in front of them and so clev
erly was the camp laid out that they
did not see the "Indians."
ALL SCOUTS KNOW THE KNOTS.
H •'*"! sjf ■'
~
When He Can Put the Right Hitch
on Anything He is Preparing for Hia
Future as a Grown-Up.
SCOUTS HAVE A MODEL CAMP.
Glen Everman, commenting on the
big scout encampment at Clouderoft,
Tex., said some fine things about the
scouts who attended this remarkable
powwow.
"We had a uniform going-to-bed and
getting-up time as well as regular eat
ing and drilling hours# There wasn't
a single fight during the entire encamp
ment, and every lad behaved himself
like a man. We had boys from Tfexas,
New Mexico, Arizona, California and
Maine.
We had Jews, Catholics and Protest
ants. The son of a millionaire and the
son of a very poor man bunked in the
same tent. The largest member of the
camping party tipped the scales at 235
pounds, while many of the youths
weighed between 65 and 90 pounds.
"The entire encampment was, I be
lieve the most successful ever held
In the Southwest."
IRVIN COBB A SCOUT OFFICIAL.
So far as can be ascertained, Irvin
Cobb, the world-famed humorist, who
recently became an official of the boy
scout council in Westchester county,
New York, has not given a definite
answer to the question put to him by
the New York Telegraph as to wheth
er he would make any public appear
ance in the abbreviated knickerbock
ers which form so distinctive a part of
every boy scout's attire.
WHAT THE SCOUTS DO.
On leaving Halifax, N. S., the prince
of Wales sent back a radio message in
which he said: "I wish again to con
gratulate the Veterans' Cadet band
and the boy scouts on their splendid
parade."
When the scouts of Bristol, Pa.,
learned that the town was to have
a "Welcome Home" parade in honor
of Its returning soldiers, they speedily
shifted their camping plans and saw
to it that they were on the Job "when
the beys came home."