the changed Niagara Falls
Turning back from the novel scene in front of him, Cobb moved nearer the edge of the balcony, and looked over towards the base of the falls. Great masses of ice rose from the depths below, half obscuring his view; but the field was clear enough for him to ascertain that a new order of phenomena had taken place since his last advent there. It seemed as if a hundred gigantic mouths in the face of the cliff were belching forth mighty torrents of seething, foamy water.
Passing down the stairs to the first landing, which was sixty feet below the brink of the falls, he and Hugh came to the gate of a tunnel in the walls under the falls. The gatekeeper, after a few words from Hugh, touched an electric bell, and ayoung man who answered the summons was directed to show them about the works.
Niagara Falls had, indeed, undergone a most remarkable change in a hundred years. The face of the cliff, from the Canadian, or “Ontario” side, as it was then termed, clear around to the city, had been pierced by huge tunnels, ten feet in diameter, extending under the rapids above for a distance of 1,000 feet. There were two rows of these tunnels; the first row was 120 feet below the top of the falls, and the tunnels were twenty feet apart. The next row was cut over the walls between the lower tunnels, and was ninety feet below the edge of the falls. Again, above this line, was a row of smaller tunnels, five feet in diameter and 100 feet apart. From the two rows of large tunnels mighty jets of water were pouring out, and breaking into foam as they reached the waters coming from over the cliff.
Cobb and Hugh passed into the tunnel, which was brilliantly lighted by electricity, dry, and much warmer than the outer air. Moving onward, they soon came to the great chambers of the cliff.
“Here, Cobb,” said Hugh, as they entered the first chamber, “here are the first dynamos. This whole cliff, from the front to 1,000 feet in rear, is honeycombed with these chambers. Each chamber has a turbine wheel and a set of dynamos, and receives its water-supply through shafts drilled straight up through the roof into the waters of therapids above. The water, after working the turbines, is discharged into the great tunnels which you saw emptying from the face of the rock. Of the mighty body of water flowing over the falls, only a portion could be used in this manner, as it was not deemed wise to make more than two rows of tunnels; but to gain as much power from the water as possible, the two lines of dynamo houses along the banks, which you saw from above, were constructed. The little tunnels are for air circulation, and fans are continually moving the air through the whole labyrinth of chambers. There are, in the face of this rock, 200 tunnels, in two rows of one hundred each, and extending back 1,000 feet, or forty miles in total length. Over each tunnel are chambers, twelve by twenty feet, with ten-foot walls between, or thirty chambers along the line of each tunnel.
“Each chamber has a fifteen-inch shaft tapping the water-supply above. Now, the descent of the water is at the rate of 3,840 feet per minute, the fall is sixty feet, and the weight of a cubic foot of water 62.5 pounds: thus the horse-power of each shaft is exactly 400, and the flow-off, in area, one square foot. As there are thirty of these chambers to each discharge tunnel, then an area of thirty square feet flows from a seventy-eight-square-foot escape. But the volume of water from the shafts, owing to its increased velocity, would soon overflow the discharge tunnels if level; to obviatethis, they are inclined as much as possible. Four hundred horse-power turbines in each chamber, coupled to dynamos, give 350 electrical horses. As there are 6,000 chambers in the rock, the output, in electricity, is equivalent to 2,100,000 electrical horse-power; this, added to the power generated by the fourteen miles of dynamos along the river, which have 3,650 wheels, brings the whole power utilized up to three and a quarter millions of electrical horses. This mighty current is carried by great copper cables to all parts of eastern United States, and used for every conceivable purpose where power is required.”
“You seem to be pretty well posted in this matter,” was all Cobb could say, as Hugh gave him this array of figures.
“I am. I was on a board of engineer officers in connection with the water-power of these falls, some years ago,” he replied.
“How long have these works been in operation?”
“About fifty years.”
“So long?”
“Yes.”
“Is it a private concern?” inquired Cobb.
“Oh, bless you, no. It cost too much money to put it into operation. The government expended over two hundred millions of dollars in building the works; but they have paid for themselves almost twice over.”
“And this is the source of the great electrical supply—”
“For the Eastern States of the nation,” interrupted Hugh; “but it is only a portion of the power used. The water-power everywhere is converted into electricity, and sent over the country.”
“And steam isn’t used any more?” hesitatingly.
“To be sure, it is; in the great timber districts, and where fuel, which otherwise would go to waste, is plentiful, steam engines are still used.”
inside the tunnels
After a thorough inspection of the great center of electrical supply, the two returned to their hotel, and made preparations to leave Niagara and visit New England, and especially Boston and Providence, “the places I love so dearly,” said Cobb. “I must once more visit the scenes of my childhood, and note their advancement.”
So away they went to pass a week, intending to be in Washington by the 10th of January.
It was the third morning after Cobb and Hugh had started for America, that Marie Colchester, or, as she should be called, Marie Hathaway, had said to Mollie:
“I wish I could see some of those peculiar contrivances which Mr. Cobb used in his sepulchre, in San Francisco.”
“And why may we not?” Mollie had returned. “He is away, and we can take a peep into his room without a living soul but ourselves knowing it.”
So it was that these two girls stole silently into Cobb’s bedroom, and noted, with feminine curiosity, every detail of a man’s private apartments.
With a guilty feeling, they opened bureau and chiffonier drawers, peered into boxes, and finally opened the doors of the wardrobe. None of the wonderful inventions for prolonging life, which they had expected to find, were discernible. Then into the closet, to the left of the bed, they looked. An old trunk, an iron box, some old boots, and a bundle of clothing, were all that met their view.
“Humph! We haven’t discovered much, Marie,” dolefully exclaimed Mollie. “Hugh’s room looks just like this. Nothing but clothing, old boots and shoes, and such traps,” and she seized the old clothingin the corner, and threw it disdainfully to the side of the closet.
“Hello! What’s this?” she slowly exclaimed, as a hollow rod of copper fell to the floor at her feet.
Stooping down, she cautiously picked it up and examined it. Marie was looking over her shoulder, brought there by her exclamation.
“There’s writing on it, Mollie!” Marie cried. “There; on the side!”
Mollie turned it over, and saw the words, dim and blurred by time:
“To Junius Cobb. Important!”
“In God’s name, do not delay in opening this cylinder!”
With palpitating hearts and bated breath, the two girls stood with their eyes glued upon the inscription. Finally, Mollie, in a solemn voice, said to her companion:
“Junius has never seen this. It has been mislaid. It is our duty to send it to him at once.”
“But you do not know where they will go from America,” referring to Hugh and Cobb.
“True,” sadly. “We may not see them for a week or more. What shall we do?” in a tone of inquiry.
“Why, put it where he will see it when he returns,” answered Marie, as if there was no doubt of the propriety of the action.
“But it says not to delay in opening it,” persisted Mollie.
“Yes,” slowly; “it does.” Then, after a pause: “Why not open it, Mollie? Maybe we may become like the good genii in the fairy tales, who always helped the poor, unfortunate prince who was about to lose his sweetheart.”
“Oh, I dare not,” and Mollie shook her head.
“But you must; we cannot leave it now,” the other returned.
“But dare I?”
It was evident that Mollie’s curiosity would overcome her scruples.
“Of course, you dare. We may do some good. At least,” hesitatingly, “it will do no harm to see what that cylinder contains.”
So they argued the point, and finally left the room bearing the cylinder with them.
An hour later, in the sanctity of Mollie’s bedroom, and with the aid of a file which she had procured, the cylinder was opened. From it Mollie drew forth, cautiously, and with a sense of fear, a tightly-rolled paper. The cylinder was only half an inch in diameter by ten inches in length, and the rolled paper, when spread out, was simply a letter containing a few words, yet with writing as fresh as if spread upon its surface only a short time since.
With heads together, and wonder in their hearts, they read:
“To you, Junius Cobb, is ordained the task of freeing from a living tomb a woman of rare beauty andangelic disposition of heart. Lose not a moment! A delay of a day will cost you a year of sorrow! Hasten to your duty, and God be with you! On the island of Guadalupe, in the Pacific Ocean, in latitude 29 degrees 15 minutes north, and longitude 41 degrees 16 minutes west, is entombed a woman whose return to life may gladden your heart, or be a curse to your existence. Listen, and heed well these instructions: From the town of Noniva, on the island, travel southwest, nineteen miles, to the deep canyons of the dry fork of the Ninta River; pass up this fork until you come to a tall and slender rock which the superstitious natives have named the ‘Finger of God.’ Set your chronometer with the exact time of the meridian, and when your time shall indicate the hour of four o’clock in the afternoon of January 6th, note carefully the spot where the shadow of the ‘Finger of God’ rests on the gray, steep rock of the eastern side of Ninta Creek. Along a shelving ledge on the face of the cliff, pass to the spot and look for the two letters ‘J. C.,’ cut in the wall. Into the lower point of the letter J, which will show a small hole, drive a steel rod until twenty inches have passed into the rock. A door of solid granite will open, and you will be at the mouth of a cavern. Enter, and learn the rest.”
“To you, Junius Cobb, is ordained the task of freeing from a living tomb a woman of rare beauty andangelic disposition of heart. Lose not a moment! A delay of a day will cost you a year of sorrow! Hasten to your duty, and God be with you! On the island of Guadalupe, in the Pacific Ocean, in latitude 29 degrees 15 minutes north, and longitude 41 degrees 16 minutes west, is entombed a woman whose return to life may gladden your heart, or be a curse to your existence. Listen, and heed well these instructions: From the town of Noniva, on the island, travel southwest, nineteen miles, to the deep canyons of the dry fork of the Ninta River; pass up this fork until you come to a tall and slender rock which the superstitious natives have named the ‘Finger of God.’ Set your chronometer with the exact time of the meridian, and when your time shall indicate the hour of four o’clock in the afternoon of January 6th, note carefully the spot where the shadow of the ‘Finger of God’ rests on the gray, steep rock of the eastern side of Ninta Creek. Along a shelving ledge on the face of the cliff, pass to the spot and look for the two letters ‘J. C.,’ cut in the wall. Into the lower point of the letter J, which will show a small hole, drive a steel rod until twenty inches have passed into the rock. A door of solid granite will open, and you will be at the mouth of a cavern. Enter, and learn the rest.”
A feeling of awe came over the hearts of the two girls, as they read this weird communication.Again and again they read the letter, and pondered long over its contents.
“What does it mean?” gasped Marie.
But Mollie was of a more practical turn of mind. She saw it to be an order for the deliverance of a human being—a woman. Casting aside her feelings of superstition which the reading of the letter had at first inspired, she commenced to debate in her mind what was the true meaning of the instructions so minutely given. Taking the letter again in her hand, she carefully read it over.
“Ah! this letter is very old!” she exclaimed; then pointing her delicate finger to a line, she cried: “Do you see that? ‘four o’clock in the afternoon,’ it says. It has been years and years since the time of day has been designated as ‘o’clock.’ This paper must be very old!”
“Yes; it must be very old,” agreed Marie, in a low voice, reverently looking at the letter.
“And here! this must be important! The shadow must be seen on January 6th of any year,” and she again read the letter. “Junius must go at once, or another year will have to be passed before a trial can be made.” Then, musing a moment, she exclaimed: “It is even less time than I thought, for if this paper is as ancient as we believe, then January 6th is really January 5th, for in old times, New-Year’s-Day was January 1st.”
“Yes?” from Marie.
“Yes,” sadly. “It is plain that we cannot getword to Junius in time for him to reach Guadalupe by that day.” Then starting up with fire in her eye, she cried: “Why not make the attempt ourselves?”
“Oh!” prolonged, and in amazement, by Marie. “We dare not!”
“And why dare we not, Miss Timidity?” retorted Mollie, scornfully.
“Because we are only poor, weak women; it would take men, great, big men, to perform this terrible task.”
“Oh, pshaw! you are a timid little mouse; that’s what you are, Marie Hathaway. I am going to rescue this woman, and you are going with me,” grandly. “Now, don’t say a word,” as the other attempted to speak. “You go immediately and get everything ready for our journey; we will leave for San Diego to-night, at 19 dial, for I remember that San Diego is in latitude 33, or thereabouts; and that should be the place from which to take a lipthalener.”
“Truly, Mollie?” with a look of consternation in her eyes.
“Yes; truly! Now, Marie; have some courage. Will you go with me and aid me? or must I go alone?” and she put her arms lovingly about the girl’s waist.
“If you really and truly mean it, dear Mollie, I will do as you wish, and go with you; but it’s an awful undertaking,” shaking her head.
Thus was it decided by these two young women to go thousands of miles to an unknown island, seek the location of an isolated cavern, and bring back to life the prisoner therein entombed.
An hour after, and Mollie came into the library, where her father was engaged in writing. Stealing softly up to him, she put her plump white arms about his neck, and kissed his forehead reverently.
“What is it now, pet?” he said, laying down his pen.
“Father, dear; I wish to visit aunt Lora in San Francisco; can I go?” looking him in the eyes.
“Why, yes; I suppose so. You may go next week if you can get ready.”
“Not next week, papa. I want to go to-night; on the Central Pneumatic.”
“What?” he exclaimed. “To-night! And why this haste, my daughter?” and he gave her a deep, searching look.
“Father, have I been a good, true daughter to you?” and her deep blue eyes looked straight into his.
“In truth you have, my daughter,” and he kissed her cheek, so close to his lips.
“Then, my dear father, I beg of you one great kindness, one great confidence in my sincerity, honesty, and truthfulness. Grant me permission to go West to-night with Marie Colchester; grant me a short time to remain, give me a thousand dollars, and ask me not to tell you the reasons for my strange request and actions.”
“My daughter, this is very strange!” and he arose from his chair, took her hands in his, and drew her toward him. His eyes looked into hers with an earnest expression. Steadily, and with an honest eye, she returned his gaze.
“Do you, indeed, make this request?” he slowly added.
“Father, I do,” she replied.
“Answer me one question. Has Lester Hathaway any connection with this undertaking?”
“As God sees me, he has not,” she firmly replied.
“My daughter, you shall go as you desire, and may God watch over you. Now see your mother and inform her, and then prepare for your journey.”
She again kissed him, and left the room.
At 19 dial the two girls, clad in traveling-dresses, and with grips in their hands, entered the depot, and were soon cozily ensconced in the fourth sleeper of the Central Pneumatic, No. 5, west.
“What will Lester say when he does not find me in the conservatory to-night?” sighed Mollie.
“And what will Hugh say when he returns and finds me gone?” and another deep sigh could have been heard.
“But I left a letter for him,” with a sly glance toward the other.
“And I left a note for Hugh,” glancing toward Mollie. Their eyes met, and a smile lighted up both faces.
“Oh! you did?” from Mollie.
“Ah! you did?” retorted Marie.
On rushed the train. Miles upon miles were left behind them, and the hours sped by. They should be at El Paso at 6:30 dial the next morning, and at San Diego at 10 dial. It would be nearly 11 dial before they would be able to search for a vessel to take them to Guadalupe.
The time was passing, and it was with a troubled mind that Mollie surveyed the route and the time at her command. With beating hearts, the two girls watched the hours pass as the train rushed along to the Pacific; eagerly did they look for the approach of the city by the sea.
It was 12 dial when the train reached the city of San Diego. Quickly disembarking, the girls entered a drag, and were rapidly propelled to the Great Pacific. Once within the office of the hotel, Mollie excitedly asked for information as to what lipthaleners were in the port.
“None, madame,” was the calm reply of the clerk. Her heart sank within her bosom at the words. “There are none but sailing vessels in the harbor; will madame have use for one of them?” continued the man, noticing her agitation.
“No; and yes—I cannot tell. Show us a room and serve breakfast there, and at once,” was the impatient reply.
During their breakfast, the two girls discussed the situation, but without arriving at any solution as to how they would reach Guadalupe Island.
Having partaken of a light repast, they proceeded to the docks to find some means of transportation to the island. Not a lipthalener was in port, and but few sailing vessels. To her inquiries, Mollie was informed that the island was 120 leagues southwest, and no sailing vessel could make the voyage in less than three days, with the best of winds; and that the chances were that it would take five.
Disheartened, she and Marie turned back to the hotel.
Fate was against them, and they would not be able to rescue the imprisoned girl ere another year had come and passed. Would the woman live through another year? Would she not die, if yet alive?Wasshe yet alive? Such were the questions Mollie asked herself.
Often and often she went out on the porch, and scanned the horizon for the approach of a lipthalener.
Sixteen dial came, and found poor Mollie in a fever of anxiety. If no lipthalener came into port before 20 dial, her case was hopeless. It was 350 miles to Guadalupe Island, and she must be there at 10 dial the next day, in order to have sufficient time to reach Ninta Creek and make her preparations. Discouraged, she sat and buried her face in her hands, while Marie, in sympathy, put her arms about her, and tried to comfort the sinking heart.
Hark! What was that sound? Like a flash of lightning, Mollie was on her feet.
“Did you hear it, Marie?” she cried, excitedly.
“Yes; what was it?” the other replied with equal excitement.
“There! there! Do you hear it? There it is again!” and the girl danced for very joy.
The hoarse, rolling sound of a marine whistle was plainly heard by both.
“A lipthalener! A lipthalener!” they both cried, and rushed out on to the porch.
Coming around the fortress point was a magnificent cruiser of about 3,000 tons. Her black hull and raking, yardless masts proclaimed her calling; the flag at the peak, the glorious stars and stripes, proclaimed her nationality. Off the lower dock, and a half-mile from it, she came to anchor, and her great hull swung around with the tide.
“Come, Marie; no time is to be lost!” and Mollie rushed into the parlor, seized her hat, and quickly made her way to the dock.
For a dollar, a boatman gladly took them in his little craft, and rowed to where the lipthalener lay quietly at her anchors.
“Ahoy! On deck! Is the captain on board?” cried the boatman, as he held off by a hook against the side of the big vessel.
“You’ll think so, you lubber, if he sees that hook in his vessel,” came the response from the portbows. “Heave off and lie to, and I’ll report,” and the man and voice disappeared.
A moment after, a man in the uniform of the United States navy, appeared at the companion-way and cried:
“Ahoy! What’s wanted?”
“Two ladies wish to come aboard and speak to the captain, sir,” replied the boatman, touching his hat in a nautical fashion.
“Very well. Heave to on the starboard side.”
A few minutes later Mollie and Marie were in the captain’s cabin of the San Francisco, and had asked its commander to take them to Guadalupe Island.
“But, ladies,” replied Captain Gordon, a bluff but kind-hearted old gentleman of fifty-five years, “this is rather an unusual request upon the United States navy, and comes from a very unusual source; yes, a very unusual source indeed, but a very charming source, I must confess,” and he bowed gallantly to the two girls.
“I know it, Captain; but the case is one of life or death: I must be in Guadalupe Island at 10 dial to-morrow.” Mollie looked beseechingly at him as she spoke.
“I wish I could accommodate you, ladies; but I fear it is impossible.”
Mollie’s heart almost ceased to throb as she heard these words.
“I am here for dispatches,” continued the captain,“and expect to leave for San Francisco to-morrow morning.”
“But,” pleaded Mollie, “it will only take a half-day to make the run—”
“And a half-day back again,” interrupted the captain, “is a whole day. Why, my children, I might be court-martialed if I were to do this thing.”
“But, if I promise that you not only will not be court-martialed, but will receive the commendation of the President, and the Secretary of the Navy, will you go?”
“If you could guarantee this, ladies, why, damn me!—I beg your pardon—I would do it, just to please two such lovely girls as honor my cabin by their presence to-day; but, of course, you cannot do it.”
“But I can!” cried Mollie, “and your promise is given. I am Miss Mollie Craft, the President’s daughter: in his name, I guarantee approval of your action.”
The beautiful girl arose from her chair, and stood proudly before the old sailor.
Without moving a muscle of his face, Captain Gordon slowly said:
“Pardon me, ladies, but any woman could have uttered those words.”
Crushed, and with a sinking feeling at her heart, Mollie nearly fell at his feet. He doubted her, and she had nothing to prove her identity.
Deliberately came the words:
“Have you anything to prove your relationship to the President?”
“Alas, nothing!” she cried, and the tears filled her eyes.
“No letter in which you are recognized?” he kindly asked.
Ah! Stay! Hope again rose within her soul. Quickly thrusting her hand into her pocket, she drew out a letter. Nervously she broke the seal, and glanced over its contents. A ray of sunshine came into her tear-bedimmed eyes, her bosom heaved for a moment, and then she became calm. Handing the letter to the captain, she said:
“The letter is to my aunt, in San Francisco, and was written by my father just before my departure.”
Captain Gordon took the letter, and, instantly recognizing the executive heading, slowly read:
“Washington, January 3, 2001.“Dear Lora:******“She is the only daughter I have, sister, and you must watch over her carefully. We cannot afford to lose our Mollie.******“Affectionately, your brother,“Emory D. Craft.”
“Washington, January 3, 2001.
“Dear Lora:
******
“She is the only daughter I have, sister, and you must watch over her carefully. We cannot afford to lose our Mollie.
******
“Affectionately, your brother,“Emory D. Craft.”
As he finished reading the letter, Captain Gordon rose from his chair, advanced toward Mollie, and extended his hand.
“You will pardon my doubts, will you not, Miss Craft?” he asked; “but men in official positions must protect themselves. I no longer doubt your identity; the San Francisco is at your command,” and he bowed low to her.
“I thank you, Captain Gordon, and you will not lose by this kind act.”
Mollie’s eyes were again flowing with tears, but now tears of joy.
“When do you desire to start, Miss Craft?”
“At once,” she cried.
“Return, then, dear ladies, and get your effects. I will leave the port in half an hour.”
Thirty minutes sped by, and Mollie and Marie were again on board the San Francisco. Then came the orders to weigh anchor, much to the astonishment of all the crew, and the vessel moved slowly toward the fortress at the point of the harbor.
As the San Francisco approached the north water battery, the sound of a gun was heard, and the flag on the battery-staff was dipped twice, then a red streamer was run up the staff, and a boat put off from the mole.
“Hard aport, Mr. Navigator, and stop the ship,” cried the captain, who was standing on the bridge by the side of Mollie, who had been invited there as the commander of the vessel for a day.
Slowly the great ship ceased on her course, and awaited the little craft, which came rushing through the water, propelled by a lipthalene screw.
“The dispatch boat, sir,” said the officer of the deck, touching his cap.
“So I perceive,” returned the captain. “You will receive the dispatches and cast her off, as we must not delay.”
“Very well, sir;” and the officer again saluted, and passed to the companion-way.
A moment later the dispatches had been received, and handed to Captain Gordon. Breaking the port seal, he read the dispatch; then, hesitating a moment, he handed it to Mollie, and noted the sudden paleness of her face as she slowly reached forth her hand and took it.
With a feeling of impending evil, she read the paper:
“Washington, January 4, 15D.“To Captain Gordon, U. S. L. San Francisco, San Diego, Cal.“(Due at and hold.)“Proceed to San Francisco at once. Make no delays.C. Scofield,“Secretary of Navy.”
“Washington, January 4, 15D.
“To Captain Gordon, U. S. L. San Francisco, San Diego, Cal.
“(Due at and hold.)
“Proceed to San Francisco at once. Make no delays.
C. Scofield,“Secretary of Navy.”
With a beating heart and a quivering lip, the girl handed it back.
“And you will obey this order?” she slowly asked.
“It is imperative,” he replied.
Almost out of the harbor, almost away from the chance of a telegram, she had become happy and cheerful once more. Now it was changed: thisman would not dare, no matter how she prayed, to violate such an order.
Bursting into tears, a woman’s resource to relieve her overcharged heart, she looked into his face, and again asked:
“And you will obey these instructions?”
“Damn it; no! I—pardon me, I—I—well, damn it! the course of this vessel will not be changed; she goes to Guadalupe Island. There!” blowing as if from some great exertion, and wiping his forehead in a vigorous manner. “If they dismiss me from the service for it, you shall perform your mission on that island,” and the good old man walked to the extremity of the bridge to hide his agitation, and escape the thanks which Mollie was about to shower upon him.
The sea was rough, and the southwest winds blowing a small gale, a combination that told on the speed of the San Francisco, swift as she was. The 350 miles became nearly 450, and it was not until 4 dial the next day, that anchors were cast in the harbor of Noniva, Guadalupe Island.
Mollie Craft had had a long conversation with the ship’s surgeon, Dr. Town, the day previous, and had shown him the mysterious letter, and asked his assistance; the doctor had readily consented to aid her by all means in his power.
Captain Gordon gave Mollie until 20 dial to return to the vessel before shaping his course for San Francisco.
At 8 dial that bright day of January 5, 2001, an expectant and anxious party left the deck of the San Francisco, and landed at the mole of Noniva. The Doctor had two men from the ship to carry the stretcher—he was a thoughtful man, and always had a stretcher along for emergencies—and the tools and such things as he believed might be needed. In the town, saddle mules were obtained, and the party of five quietly left the vicinity, as if for a day’s camping in the hills.
The journey was through a broken and thickly-wooded country, and the traveling slow and tedious. It was long past the meridian when the party reached and passed up the dry bed of the Ninta River, and nearly 15 dial when “The Finger of God,” which all recognized from the description furnished by the natives of Noniva, was reached.
The gray cliffs on either bank of the river were steep and rugged. Huge festoons of tropical growth covered them from top to bottom, and stunted pines stood nodding their crested heads among the rocky crevices. Already the shadow of the rock was creeping up the eastern bank, and by its position the pathway ledge was easily found.
Leaving the two seamen at the base of the rock, Dr. Town, with the tools which he had brought,and followed by the two girls, carefully made his way up the narrow, overhanging ledge, and stood near the point of the dark shadow on the face of the rock. With watch in hand, which he had set to the meridian of Guadalupe, he awaited the time of 16 dial, or 4P. M., as recorded by the author of the letter of instructions.
The minutes passed slowly—too slowly for the two girls, who stood by his side. Their feelings were wrought to a fever heat; their hearts beat a tattoo within their bosoms, and a fear of some dreadful revelation possessed their souls.
The shadow crept on; the sun was going down to its bed in the ocean, which spread out in every direction. On moved the shadow; it had reached a dense cluster of mountain-ivy, which completely hid the rock from view: the hour was 15:55 dial.
Seizing a large knife from his bundle of tools, the doctor sprang quickly to the spot, and with dispatch, cleared away the evergreen, exposing the solid rock of the cliffs. With his eyes upon his watch, he noted the passing moments.
“Sixteen dial!” he cried, and placed the point of his knife at the end of the shadow of the “Finger of God.”
Carefully marking the spot, he diligently searched for the letters mentioned in the communication. Not a trace of a letter was visible; the virgin rock lay bare, and undefiled by human hands. Above, below, and on either side, his search was equallyunsuccessful, and as he communicated the result of his examination to Mollie and Marie, consternation seized upon them. Could it be that they had been deceived, and that the contents of the letter were false, and made for some purpose of alluring Junius Cobb to this spot? They looked at each other in bewilderment.
Suddenly the doctor exclaimed:
“Ah! It may be that!”
“What, doctor?” they both cried, excitedly.
But the doctor made no reply; he was climbing up the cliff, straight up from the knife-mark in the rock. With the celerity of a man intensely excited, he cut and slashed away the ivy, and threw it into the ravine; then, looking at his watch, he noted that twenty-five minutes had passed since the shadow of the rock had reached the point which he had marked. Noting the variation of the shadow from the vertical for these twenty-five minutes, he drew his knife slowly and carefully up the face of the cliff, from the mark which he had made to where the shadow of the “Finger of God” then rested, the knife describing the path of the shadow.
Turning to Mollie, who had been watching his movements in wonder, he said:
“If the instructions are correct, then will the characters ‘J. C.’ be found near the line which my knife has described; for the letter, if true, as I have remarked, was written a long time ago, and the ‘Finger of God’ was taller then than it is to-day,as the elements must have worn many inches from its top in the course of a great number of years; its shadow was higher up the cliff, at any particular hour of the day, at a remote period, than it is to-day. Now come and examine closely along the line I have described.”
With diligence and care, all three scanned the face of the rock, scraped away the mold, and sought to find the key to the mysterious cavern.
Suddenly Mollie gave a scream—an exultant scream—and cried:
“Here it is! Here it is! I have found them!”
Crowding about her, the other two saw before them the letters in the rock. Small, discolored, and covered with a green moss, it was a wonder they had been discovered at all. Yes, there they were, “J. C.” Leaning over, Dr. Town took his penknife and carefully dug the moss away from the point of the J, and exposed the hole mentioned in the letter.
There was no farce, no falsehood in the communication, after all; at least, not as regards the letters “J. C.” and the hole in the J. The decisive moment had arrived.
Putting the point of the steel rod, which he had brought along for the purpose, into the hole, the doctor drove it in to its full length. A creaking, cracking sound followed, and the rock in front of them sank into the side of the cliff, leaving exposed a doorway about six feet high by three inwidth. Involuntarily all started back as the yawning, dark passage was exposed, and a cry of alarm escaped the lips of Marie.
The opening had been made, but the interior was dark and unknown.
“I will go in,” said the doctor, “and explore the place; I will return, and inform you if it is safe.”
“Oh, I am not afraid,” returned Mollie; “certainly there can be nothing there to harm us.”
“Oh, but there may be!” broke in Marie.
“Go in, doctor; we will follow you,” not heeding Marie’s alarm.
Dr. Town lighted a lantern, and, followed by the girls, passed in through the opening. A passage of some fifteen feet in length hewed into the solid rock, led them into a large chamber with a high and arched roof. As the light of the lantern threw its rays about the room, its contents were plainly discernible by all.
The walls were draped with beautiful silks and plushes; chandeliers were suspended from the arched roof; costly chairs with embroidered cushions were upon every side; books and works of art lay upon the massive center-table and about the room. A thousand objects of beauty and richness adorned the large chamber.
As they walked across the room, a light cloud of dust rose at their feet as the carpet gave way in its rottenness. Reaching out her hand, Mollie took a book from the table, and was about to open it,when it fell to the floor in a mass of rotten fibre. A beautiful picture hanging on the wall, its oil coloring still fresh and its gilded frame yet bright and handsome, was accidentally struck by the doctor, and came tumbling to the ground, in a heap of decayed wood and canvas. The table, with all its beautiful ornaments, was but a phantom; for, as they endeavored to move it to one side, it fell to the floor in ruins. Time and nature had caused such decay that it seemed to need but the touch of man to change the vision of enchantment into a scene of ruin and chaos.
There was no moisture, no mold; but apparently a dry-rotting process had been at work for years, and the destructible articles of the chamber were ready to fall in pieces at the least shock.
From the first chamber opened a second, to the left, and here was found what appeared to have been a kitchen. Utensils of all kinds were scattered about as if left where they had been last used; dishes of finest china lay broken on the floor, where also lay the once beautiful sideboard, now fallen by its weight and rottenness; decay worse than was found in the first chamber pervaded the place. A large oil-stove in one corner, and glass bottles with seals upon them, gave evidence of the methods which had been pursued in this the culinary department of the establishment.
From this room a long passage opened to the right, and led deep into the cliff. With feelings ofawe, not unmixed with terror on the part of Marie, the three moved forward. The light flashed upon the dark, rocky walls, and was absorbed in their dingy gray.
Moving cautiously forward, a dozen steps brought them to a third chamber, small and low. Mollie, who was close in rear of the doctor, glanced in as the light penetrated the darkness of the room. With a scream, she drew back, shuddering with fear, and clasped Marie in her arms:
“A skeleton!” she cried. “A coffin!”
the discovery
The fear was contagious; Marie sank to the ground, trembling like a leaf, and, in her fall, dragged Mollie with her. There they lay, frightened, and with chattering teeth.
“Come, young ladies,” brusquely said the doctor, “there is nothing to be afraid of. Scared at a skeleton, eh? I thought you had more nerve,” to Mollie.
“But it was so sudden,” she gasped; “and it seems so terrible.”
“Well, there is nothing to fear,” as he assisted them to their feet.
“O Mollie! Let us go!” cried Marie.
“Stuff and nonsense!” broke in the doctor. “Let us fathom this mystery. We will go in.”
In the center of the chamber and on a high bier, covered with black velvet, which fell in great folds to the floor, lay a golden casket. It bore no ornamentation, save the beading of silver about itsedges. Its top was of glass, and a wreath of the most exquisite flowers lay near the head. On the four corners of the great black pall were sprigs of immortelles, and at the head of the casket, a wreath of orange blossoms. The floor of the chamber was of slabs of white marble, skillfully laid and joined together.
At the side of the room, upon a low couch, lay the skeleton of a human being; the grinning skull was turned upon one side, with its yawning, eyeless sockets turned toward the casket in the center of the chamber.
The garments which had been worn in life, still clung about the form, and showed it to have been a man. Upon a small table, at the head of the couch, stood a bronze lamp, from which the oil had long since passed into vapor; a paper lay by its side, and at the foot of the couch stood an iron box.
Reverently they moved toward the casket, and, with feelings wrought up to the highest pitch, looked through the glass top. Again did the girls cry out in their wonder and awe; and the doctor, accustomed though he was to sights of death, pressed his hand to his head, and stared with eyes almost starting from their sockets.
Within the casket, upon the whitest silk, lay the form of a woman of wondrous beauty—a form of the most exquisite shape, a face of the rarest mold; hair of the fairest golden blonde, and handsand feet as delicate and small as a girl’s. Naked from her feet to her loins, and exposing a bust of wondrous form, she lay among the folds of the white silk lining. A swathing of bandages covered the abdomen, and the mouth was wrapped in cloth. By her side lay a golden saucer, and another, filled with a black substance, lay at her head.
Silently they stood and gazed upon the motionless form. Within her casket she lay in death before them, but such a death as none had ever seen before. The eyelids closed, the face as white as the driven snow, the hands folded upon her bosom, it seemed to all that sacrilege had been committed by intruding within the sacred precincts of her tomb.
The awe-inspiring silence was at last broken by the voice of the doctor, who had recovered himself, and whose thoughts had come back again to the duty of the present.
“This is a most remarkable discovery, ladies,” he slowly said; “but we should look for a further solution of the mystery. We can do nothing by standing here and gazing at this wondrous vision.”
Laying his hand on the pall near the head of the casket, the velvet fell in dust and rags to the floor, and the sprig of immortelles, striking the marble slab, became mashed and battered. Picking up the flowers, he examined them carefully.
“Why, they are made of gold and silver and precious stones,” he exclaimed, in astonishment.
Then they examined the three remaining sprigs, and the wreath of orange blossoms at the head of the casket; all were of the finest gold and silver, and diamonds were the petal-points of the flowers. Wondering much, the doctor then took those from the top of the casket, and found them, likewise, of the same precious materials. But in removing the last bunch of flowers, a discovery had been made. Where the wreath of golden flowers had lain, was now seen a silver plate, covered with engraved letters.
“Perhaps we have a clue to the identity of the beautiful woman who lies in this casket,” exclaimed the doctor, as he threw the rays of the light upon the plate on the top of the casket.
Crowding close to him, all three read the words cut in the silver plate: