Evening Republican, Volume 22, Number 177, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 July 1919 — Page 2

PIECES OF EIGHT

CHAPTER Vl--Contlnued. - : - And then I came upon a photograph "hanging over the writing desk—a tall, Spanlsh-looking young woman of remarkable beauty. It needed but one glance to realize that here was Ca- • lypso’s mother, and as was natural I stood a long time scanning the countenance that was so like the face which, from my first sight of It, had seemed the loveliest In the world. This was a flower that had been the mother of a flower. It was a face more primitive in its beauty, a little less touched with race than the one I loved, but the same fearless natural nobility was in it, and the figure had the same wild grace of pose, the same lithe strength of carriage. Two or three days "went by, but as yet there was no news of either Charlie Webster or Tobias. Nothing further had been heard of the latter in . the settlement, and a careful patrolling of the neighborhood revealed no signs of him. Either his sailing away was a bona fide performance or he was lying low in some other-part of the island —which of course would not be a difficult thing for him to do, as most of it was wilderness —and as, also, there were one or two coves on the deserted northern side where he could easily bide his time. Between that coast and us. however, lay some ten miles of scrub and mangrove swamps, and it was manifestly out of the question to patrol them too. There was nothing to do but watch and wait. At last there came a message from Charlie Webster, another of his Caesarian notes: “Sorry delays few days longer. Any news?" That seemed to decide the “king.” “What do you say, Ulysses,” he said, “if we begin digging tomorrow? There are ten of us —with as many guns, four revolvers and plenty of machetes —not counting Calypso, who is an excellent shot herself." I agreed that nothing would please me better —so an early hour the following morning found us with the whole garrison—excepting Samson, whom it had been thought wise to leave at home as a bodyguard for Calypso—lined up at the old ruined mansion with picks and shovels and machetes, ready to commence operations. We had worked for a week before we made a clearance of the ground floor. Then at last we came upon a ; solidly built stone staircase, winding downward. After clearing away the debris with which It was choked to a depth of some twenty or thirty steps, we came to a stout wooden door studded with nails. “The dungeon at last,” said the “king.” “The kitchens, I bet,” said I. After some battering the door gave way with a crash, a moldering breath as of the grave met our nostrils, and

It Was the Pirates’ Wine Cellar.

a cloud of bats flew in our faces and set the negroes screaming. A huge cavernous blackness was before us. The “king” called for lanterns. As we raised these above our heads and peered into the darkness, we both gave a laugh. “ ‘Yo—ho —ho—and a bottle of rum,’ ” sang the “king." For all along the walls stood or lay prone on trestles, a silent company of hogsheads, festooned ith .cobwebs like huge black wings. It was the pirates’ wine cellar! *••**•• Such was our discovery for that, day, but there is another matter which I must mention —the fact that somehow the news of our excavation •eemed to have got down to the settlement. It is a curious fact, as thq, “king” observed, that if a man should j •tart to dig for gold in the center of |

BEING THE AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE OF A TREASURE DISCOVERED IN THE BAHAMA ISLANDS IN THE YEAR 1903. NOW FIRST GIVEN TO THE PUBLIC

By RICHARD LE GALLIENNE

Sahara, with no possible means of communicating with his -f el low s. -on the third day there would not fail to be someone to drop in and remark on the fineness of the weather. So it was with us. As a general thing not once in a twelvemonth did a human being wander into that wilderness where the “king" had made his home. There was nothing to bring them there, and. as I have made clear, the way was not easy. Yet we had hardly begun work when one and another idle nigger strolled in from the settlement and stood grinning his curiosity at our labors. Toward evening of the third day we came upon a passage leading out of one of the cellars; it had such a promising appearance that we kept at work datpr than usual, and the sun had set and night was rapidly falling as we turned homeward. As we came in sight of the house we were struck by the peculiar hush about it, and there were no lights in the windows. “No lights;” the “king" and I exclaimed together, involuntarily hurrying our steps, wfth a foreboding of we knew not what in our hearts. As we crossed the lawn the house loomed up dark and still and the door opening onto the loggia was a square of blackness in a gloom of shadows hardly less profound. Not a sound, not a sign of life! “Calypso!” we both cried out, as we rushed across the loggia. “Calypso! where are you”—but there was no answer ; and then I, being ahead of the “king," stumbled over something dark lying across the doorway. “Good heaven! what is this?” J cried, and bending down I saw that it was' Samson. The “king” struck a match. Yes! it was Samson, poor fellow, with a dagger firmly planted in his heart. Near by something white caught my eye attached to the lintel of the doorway. It was a piece of paper Jwld there with a sailor’s knife. I tore it off in a frenzy, and —the “king” striking another match —we read it together. It bore but a few words, written all in capital letters with a coarse pencil: “WILL RETURN THE LADY IN EXCHANGE FOR THE TREASURE,” and it was signed “H. P. T.”

CHAPTER VII. In Which I Lose My Way. “The audacity of the fellow!” exclaimed the “king,” who was the first to recover. “But Calypso!” I cried. The “king” laid his hand on my shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t be afraid for her,” he said. "I know my daughter.” “But I love her!” I cried, thus blurting out in my anguish what I had designed to reveal in some tranquil chosen hour. “I have loved her for twenty years,” said the “king.” exasperatingly calm. ,“ ‘Jack Harkaway’ can take care of himself.” I was not even astonished at the time. “But something must be done,” I cried, “I will go to the commander at once and rouse the settlement. Give me a lantern,” I called to one of the negroes, who by this had come up to qs, and were standing around in a terrified group. I waited only for it to he lit, and then, without a word, dashed wildly into the forest. “Hadn’t you better take someone with you?” I heard the “king” call after me, but I was too distraught to reply, plunging headforemost through the tangled darkness —my brain boiling like a cauldron with anger and a thousand fears, and my heart stung, too with wild, unreasoning remorse. After all, it was my doing. “To think! to thlqk! to think!” I cried aloud —leaving the rest unspoken. I meant that it had all come of my insensate pursuit of that filthy treasure, when all the time the only treasure I coveted was Calypso herself. Poor old'ignorant Tom had been right after all. Nothing good came of such enterprises. There was a curse upon them from the beginning. And then, as I thought of Tobias, my body shook so that I could hardly keep on walking. and next minute my hatred of him so nerved me up that I ran on through the brush like a madman, my clothes clutched at by the devilish vines and torn at every yard. 1 fled past the scene of our excavations, looking more haunted than ever in the flashing gleam of the lantern. With an oath I left them behind, as the accursed cause of all this evil; but I canhot I have gone by them many yards when suddenly I felt the ground giving way beneath me with a violent jerk. My arms went up in a wild effort to save myself, and then, in a panic of fright, I felt myself shooting downward as one might fall down the shaft of a mine. Vainly I clutched at rocky walls as I sped down in. the earth-smelling darkness. »I seemed to be falling forever, and for a moment my head cleared and I had time to think of the crash that was Coming at the end of my fall —a crash jvhich,

TAB EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, LND.

I said to myself, must mean death. It came with sudden crunching pain. a swift tightening round my heart, as though black ropes were being lashed tightly about it, squeezing out my breath; then entire blackness engulfed me and I knew no more. • • « • • • • How long I lay there in the darkness I cannot tell. All I remember is suddenly opening my eyes on Intense blackness and vaguely wondering where I was. My head seemed entirely detached from my body, of which so far I was unconscious. But presently the realization of it returned, and involuntarily I tried to move — to find with a sort of indifferent mild surprise that it was impossible. So there I lay, oddly content, in the dark —the pungent smell of the earth my only sensation, and my head uselessly clear. The remembrance of what had happened began to grow in force and keenness and, of a sudden, the thought of Calypso smote me like a sword ! Spurred to desperate effort", I stood .up on the instant and leaned against a rocky wall. Miracle of miracles! I could stand. I was not dead, after ail. I was not, indeed, so far as I could tell, seriously hurt. Badly bruised, of course —but no bones broken. It seemed incredible, but it was so. The realization made me feel weak again, and I sat down with my back propped up against the rock, and waited for more strength. Slowly my thoughts fumbled around the situation. Then, as by force of habit, my hand went to my pocket. God be, praised! I had matches, and I cried with thankfulness, out of very weakness. But I still sat on In the dark for a while. I felt very tired. After thinking about it for a long time, I took out my precious matchbox, which unconsciously I had been hugging wih my hand, and struck a light, looking about me in a dazed fashion. The match burnt down to my fingers, and I threw it away, as the flame stung me. I had seen something of my surroundings, enough to last my tired brain for a minute or two. I was at the bottom of a sort of crevasse, a narrow cleft in the rocks which continued on in a slanting downward chasm into the darkness. It was a natural corridor, with a floor of white sand. The sand had accounted for my coming off without any broken bones. After another minute or two 7 struck another match, and lo! another miracle. There was my lantern lying beside me. The glass of it was broken, but that was no matter. As I lit the wick my hopes leapt up with the flame. At the worst I had light. I swung -my lantern aloft, seeking the possibilities of a climb, but everywhere it was sheer, without a ledge or protuberance of any kind to take advantage of, and it was utterly devoid of vegetation —not a sign of a friendly shrub or root to hold by. I had sense enough to know that I was too tired to think profitably, and drowsiness coming over me told me that an hour or two’s sleep would give me the strength I needed to renew with a will and more chances of success my efforts to escape. Light was too precious to waste, so

I blew out my lantern, and, curling up on the sand, almost instantly fell asleep. But before I lapsed into unconsciousness I had clutcWbd hold of one sustaining thought in the darkness—the assurance of Calypso’s safety, so confidently announced by her father: “Don’t be afraid for her. I know my daughter.” Whatever happened to me, she would come out all right. As her brave shape flashed before my mind’s eye, down there under the earth, I could have no doubt of that. My instinct had been right in giving way to my drowsiness, for I woke up from my sleep a new man. How long I had been there, of course, I had no means of knowing; but I fancy I must have slept a good while, for I felt so refreshed and full to tackle my escape in good earnest. I had hardly relit my lantern when its rays revealed something which it seemed impossible for anyone with eyes, however weary, to have overlooked. In the right-hand corner of the little cavern, five or six feet above my head, was a dark hole, like the entrance to a tunnel, or, more properly speaking a good-sized burrow—for ft was scarcely more than a yard in diameter. It seemed to be something more than a mere cavity in the rock, for, when I flashed my lantern up to it I could see no end. To climb up to it at first seemed difficult; but providentially, I had a stout clasp knife in iuy pocket, and with this I cut a step or two in the porous rock, and so managed it Lying flat on my stomach, I looked in. It was, as I had thought, a narrow tunnel, snaking through the rocks —as often happens in those curious fantastic coral formations —for all the world, indeed, as if It had been made ages ago by Some monstrous primeval serpent, a. giant wormhole, no less, leading—heaven alone knew where.

There was just room to craw! along it on all fours, so I started cautiously, making sure I had my precious matches and my jackknife all safe. I'progressed, I should say, for some twenty or thirty yards, when, to my inexpressible relief, I came out, still on all fours; onto a spreading floor; then, standing up, I perceived that I was In a cave of considerable loftiness and some forty feet or so across. It was good to breathe again such comparatively free air; yet, as I" looked about and made the circuit of the walls, I saw that I had but exchanged one prison for another. There was this difference, however: whereas there had only been one passageway from the cave I had just left* there were several similar outlets from that in which I now stood. Two or three of them proved to be nothing but alcoves that ran a few yards and then stopped. But there were two close by each other which seemed to continue on. There was not much choice between them, but as both made in the same direction, so far as I could judge the direction in which I had so far pro-

Vainly I Clutched at Rocky Walls.

gressed, I decided to take the larger one. It proved to be a passage much like the tunnel I had already traversed, only a little roomier, and therefore it was easier going, and it, too, brought me out, as had the other, on another cavern —but one considerably larger in extent. I had stumbled on something like a Monte Cristo suite of underground apartments. And here for a moment I released my imagination from Jier blinders, and allowed her to play around these strange halls. And in one of her suggestions there was some comfort. It was hardly likely that caverns of such extent had waited for me to discover them. They must surely have been known to Teach, or whatever buccaneer it was who had occupied the ruined mansion not so very far above ground. > I set about the more carefully to examine every nook and corner. Two iron staples imbedded in one of the walls, with rusting chains and manacles attached, were melancholy proof of one of the uses to which the place had once been put. Melancholy for certain unhappy souls long since free of all mortal chains, but for me—need I say it? —exceedingly joyous. For if there had been a way to bring prisoners here it was none the less evident that there had been a way to 'take them out. But how and where? Again I searched every nook and cranny. There was no sign of entrance anywhere.

Then a thought occurred to me. What if the entrance were after the manner of a medieval oubliette — through the ceiling! There was a thought 'indeed to send one’s hopes soaring. I ran in my eagerness through one cavern after another, holding my lantern aloft. That must be the solution. There could be no other way. I sought and sought, but vias! it was a false hope, and I threw myself down in a corner in despair, deciding that the prisoners must have been forced to crawl in as I had — though it was hardly like jailers to put themselves to such inconvenience. I leaned back against the wall and gazed listlessly upward. Next moment I had bounded to my feet again. Surely I had seen some short, regular lines running up the face of the rock, like a ladder. I raised my lantern. Sure enough, they were iron rounds set in the face of the rock, and they mounted up till I lost them In the obscurity, for the cave here must have been forty feet high. Blessed heaven! I was saved! (TO BE CONTINUED.)

Memory Must Be Cultivated.

In any system of mental develop* ment, the memory must be cultivated at the outset, and that cultivation must continue unceasingly. It is fortunate indeed that every average person has a. mind capable of excellent memory, it is only necessary that the native powers should be properly employed.

Hears Only the Voice.

**A lack of understandin* kin be mighty comfortin’,” said Uncle Eben. •‘De worse you talk to a mule de more he feels complimented by de attention he’s receivin’.**

For the Stork Airplane Passenger

When the Single passenger of that oldest airplane—the stork —glides to earth, he expects to find everything in readiness for his comfort at least. But often he finds wmiting all sorts of splendid affairs in the way of carriages, cradles or basinettes, of the degree of daintiness and luxury revealed in the picture above, in which muslins, ribbons and frills make a resting place quite fit for an angel. This bassinette is of wicker enameled In white and has a hood of white dotted swiss finished with frills edged with lace. It is mounted on a w'ooden carriage, also white enameled, and having narrow rubber tires, so that it is easy to move his babyship about the room or sleeping porch or wherever he takes his protracted naps. Very. wide and soft satin ribbon in pink or blue is used for making the several full bows which serve as flags of w’elcome and signs of honor for the new arrival. A bassinette of this kind is more convenient than a cradle, but not a downright necessity like the layette.

The. advance of. silk for making many things that used to be made of cotton has been insidious and rapid. For frocks as well as blouses, smocks and underwear, silk", in the washable varieties, has come to be a powerful rival of the sheer and lovely cotton fabrics that belong to midsummer. The choice lies between crepe-de-chine or crepe georgette and organdy when the daintiest wash dresses are considered. Gradually the proportion of silk garments in the lingerie wardrobe grows larger and silk stockings haj e outdistanced those of cotton. But organdy need not fear that its place will be usurped, even by the loveliest of delicate wash silks, like georgette, because organdy has a crispness that makes it irresistible for hot weather frocks. Nothing can look so fresh or so comfortable when the thermometer Is hitting the high places, and nothing is lovelier in white and pale colors. Two midsummer frocks, one made of organdy and one of crepe-de-chine, invite comparison in the picture above. Thev are both simple and stylish, both deceptively fragile looking, for these sheer materials will stand much wear and look as well after laundering as before, providing they are washed and 'ironed as they should be. The dress at the left of the picture

Silks and Cottons Are Rivals

This latter has been arranged by outfitters of Infants to include all the baby cah possibly need, but they state the list following to be the “irre» ducible minimum:” Three bands, three skirfs, four pinning blankets, four flannel skirts, six lawm skirts, six slips, three dozen diapers, four pairs silk and wool stockings, one baby blanket. For the winter baby, knit or eiderdown jackets are added to these articles. Extra dresses, bonnets, cloaks and bootees are added to the layout when the baby is old enough •to get out of doors, a time that arrives early in his career. Baby clothes are simply made; fine lawn and batiste the favorite cotton materials, and the trimming of the narrowest and daintiest laces, needlework and dainty embroidery, all sparingly used. Handwork is the hallmark of excellence in the layette. As for the baby’s .health, his Uncle Sam has provided pamphlets on all sorts of subjects that the inexperienced mother may use as a guide.

is made of white organdy, with full bodice and a short tunic. Very narrow tucks and fine val lace edging provide decoration for it and the lace is set onto the organdy with a narrow beading. The sleeves.are long with flaring cuffs set onto the upper portion with beading. A wide folded girdle of organdy is held in place by a sash of narrow figured ribbon. This dress is an excellent model for a slehder figure. The picture of the dress at the right tells all there is to tell of it. It is made of white crepe-de-chine with half length sleeves and Chinese collar that proclaim it an up-to-date model of ths slip-on style.

One More Contrast.

In a world of odd contrasts, why not trim a graceful leghorn garden hat with a narrow band of fur? Such a thing has recently been encountered tn the realm of fashion.

Gay Linings.

As to linings? There you have a glorious field in which to play. It la the day of linings and their and fascination are only controlled bj your taste —and money bag.