The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 3, 1898, Page 24

24 THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL; SUNDAY, APRIL 38, 189 OW I came to Corpus Christi in Sonora I need not tell; and I am glad I need not, for it is at the best a shameful story. Yet there I fancled I could put my past away. I was e those T had wronged would not follow me so fa and 1 felt safe man can be safe from his memories. For memories now and then would come, would bother: then I longed for money with which to make restitution with a hurried de- sire. For what I had left was but a pittance, to keep me for many years in this simple Mexican village. I had lost most that I had stolen In many ventures, taken in the vain hope. Have you ever been Mexico? Can you imagine that village far away over t border—its lo; street, between the adobe houses; its listless folk re of the Indlan than the Spanlard. High above sides was the street scattered slopes of the mou quarter of a mile up the valley on a rounded b old monastery of Corpus Christi, b t . generation that had known Montezuma. Who knows? Per haps the monks dld—th few brown-cowied brother: the survivors of the great order. wondered at them, thinking how m might have been for me. I myself did not make the acquaint: The "11?3(?\'5 sometimes chatted with r affairs of my fat landlady and her b about whom three yo s W folk had been curic ppeared on do back from over the slo; But habit stifles curiosity, and I lived on most the sole guest of the old inn. For the on both e of the monks. 1 w all the ughter, These k-eyed ¢ e passionate. mountain age was out of the way of travel; centuries had passed since it had been & station on the route to the now long-abandoned silver min days and months passed for m out-of-the-way place, where tl world seem of no moment; and, as I say, ever-increasing desire for all I had frittered aw; and position and love I had lost in the New England where the winters might be bitter and the summers fierce, but where the old habit of my Anglo-Saxon blood called. Ah, If T only had money pair that wrong. For gold I Jonged, and of its po: 1 dreamed. 1 had been at Corpus Christi a year before the two who were to be my comrades appeared. One—I knew him as John Fenton—was a little ¢ book: man with a certain fright always in h. vet plainly a man of gentle breeding. The o lled him: Dorden, was his antithesls, a bu ced, oath-fi ing bravo. What interest I wondered did they have in common. But I did not dare a: em of their past, of their bond of union, lest they k of mine. Possibly they had the same reason, for they never inquired. We knew that we belonged somewhere over the border. Iso- tion, and the same conditilon of past, make strange com- anionship.. In desperation among these simple vi olk—I struck up a friend: with Do Many asur day we passed in the s court of the Inn play gloomily with a greasy pack Dorden had. On one thing we agreed; we wanted money: that alone would repair the cloak of respectability we had worn threadbare. As we talked little Fenton would smile gloomily, and would disappear up the slope to the monastery. For he strangely had made an acqualintance there: and every day he would return with a pile of old manuscripts from the lbrary of the place; records—forgotten by scholars—of the early history of Sonora. Then Dorden let drop the only remark he ever had about the pasts of either; Fenton was a scholar, a linguist, who had been a tutor at a New England college. Again I wondered what had brought together these two, so dissimilar. One evening—ah, I never may forget it'—we were sitting by flickering candles in my room, Dorden and I, &t our gaming, and Fenton reading a manuscript he had brought that day from the monastery. The monks, an flliterate lot, did not care, or note, their treasures of the time when Sps s great, and her venturesome gentle- men were ab far mountains—seeking gold and its power. Possibly se brothers of Corpus Christi won- dered at this pale, little-faced man, who amused his exile with papers that to them had no value; for, as I have sald, . looking at us suddenly. d Dorden. treasures in the moun- rom Corpus Christi. ald Dorden, “stop your — lingo. No such * said I wearily, maligning my own. sald the little man, whose past I say I won- d he read: r ruled Sonora not so much itos laid tribute of the Gov- ernor, nd Miguel Santos’ wealth was grea they beyond ima; say, was blood stained!" There are others, *Listen,” tired into the monast: in every respect a saint he made no restitutio: untalns—wea! from Peru. id Dorden, “I wish I'd it. y of Corpus Chri where he led e—save in the single one, that To this day the treasure is hid in greater than all the King of Spain It's something, Bob, to know as much as you about languages. But Fenton looked us hoth as if he knew still more, From the table he took a piece of yellowed parchment and held it against the candle. “He seems to have been,” Cap'n Kidd. I they" said Dorden, “a sort o’ e been diggin’ and diggin’' in said Fenton, quietly. “Up there in the library i there's a pile of ancient manuscripts seems to care at all about—the account books of no earthly use except to th . or the historian. But they've amused m ‘re easily amused with ’em books,” sald I'd rather see a Sunday New York paper, with the murders and divorces and politic: “Well,” said Fenton, “I hadn't, you know. found some fun up there nosing about. able to forget." fou're chicken livered, ell, I wish I'd money “We'd go back, eh, and buy up somebody,” sald Dor- den. “We'd have a house on Fifth av, and another at Newport, and we'd run horses at Sheepshead, and we'd ave our wives' and darters’ dresses and diamonds all listed in the papers.” “Shut up,” said Fenton. daughters!” So I've I've almost been ,sald Dorden. “Don’t talk about wives and ‘“He’s a bit ticklish on some subjects,” said Dorden. ““Well, go on with your varn, little 'un.” “‘Well,"” sald Fenton, I said to myself, if this Miguel Santos became a monk at Corpus Christi there’'s probably somewhere or other about this pile of papers something more about him. Finally I came to some papers of the Abbot Pedre Juan. I knew he was the Abbot of Santos’ time. So 1 broke o the seal. Then I found this paper written by the dyin, ntos.” “You don't say! Who'd have thought it?" Dorden ex- claimed. “I had some trouble in making it out,” Fenton went on. ‘““Well, what of {t?” sald Dorden. “Does he.tell where the money’s to be had. We can go back to New York and float & company. ‘The Santos treasure company, 10,000,000 paid in. A few chances at 50 cents." " ‘“‘Listen, you fool,” said Fenton eagerly. ‘‘Here is what is written: ‘I, the monk Ambrose, once Miguel Santos, do confess: When I am 70, and in security, I bethink myself that death cannot be far away. The church declares that the wicked shall be burned forever. If that be indeed true —and no man ever came back to deny {t—it behooves me to prepare. I have thought me of the treasure I gained evilly. Should I restore it to those whence 1 had taken? But the lust for gold makes more crime than the lust for women. It has seemed to me, then, that I should put this treasure away where no man should find it. T know now my sin. I could not part with that which has cost me so much—perhaps even my soul. To the cave of the under- ground river I had the casks carried. Then I had a wall built twenty rods from the cave's entrance, and I walled the treasure there against the roar of the stream that sees no light. Twenty men worked at this; and I watched, leaving a guard down the slope. In the wall is an iron door, which opens if you touch it at a certain spot. When the work was done I gave the laborers poison, and in the morning all lay dead. (God rest my soul.) One by one 1 took the bodies ‘‘He took the bodle: aid Dorden, that stuff Is buried up in 'em mountains’ took the bodies through the door in the wall to the cliff over the underground river, and dropped them in, one by one. Then I returned to my followers, who guarded below, saying I had sent the other score into Chihuahua. And then I discharged all and came down the mountain to the monastery, and to the abbot I sald: ‘T would repent me of my sins!’ ‘First,’ he answered, ‘thou must give all thy treasure to Mother Church.” Then I lied, and told him 1 had scuandered it all. id to myself that ‘for one who has committed so ns, the death of twenty men and the lie to the abbot cannot add to the burden.’” For, from that time on, 1 should lead me a life of prayer, of repentance. So in truth I have tried to live save twice a year, when I have visited the cave of the river. Then I have gloated over the coffers on the cliff in the cave. Then voices have come aning over, “all up from the river, and said: ‘Accursed, accursed!” Yea, accursed is it. May it curse some other as It has me; any monk or man who may find it.’ Here the writing stops,” said Fenton. “But there is one line more in another hand. ‘The devil has the soul of him who was known to the world as Miguel Santos.' " “What a fool that old chap was, anyway den. “With all that money, he might have had for a king, without botherin’ himself about hell.”” “With all that money,” I sald. “Do you suppose it's there now "’ “Do you 'spose it is. It fairly makes my mouth water,” Dorden observed. “If it were there,” said the pale-faced Fenton, “I've given up so much—to get money “No more than 1" said Dorden. *No more than I,” sald I But I was watching the yvellowed parchment which Dorden was holding, as I have said, low over the candle. Black lines were appearing there. I gasped as I saw them. ‘Was this that old secrct? Had he written it on the back of the confession? Should we know it then? Should we get the gold with which T might make my restitution? “The paper’s back, Fenton!" I cried. Fenton turned the paper, scared, while Dorden sent the greasy pack scattering. “Read it—for God's e, read it! Fenton read in a low voice *‘As thou followest the sed road to the silver mine thou wilt come about five Spanish miles to a projected rock. Gofng to the western side of the rock, west fifty yards. which will bring thee against t' of bushes by the cliffside. Under these thou wilt find the opening of the cave. Push the upper-hand corner of the iron door and it will swing open; and thou wilt be cursed as was Miguel Santos.” t's gospel truth, then,” said Dorden. ‘That he was cursed said Fenton, “‘Damn the curse,” Dorden replied, is there!" ‘‘Yes, it may be there,” said Fenton, rising. “But the old road the fellow speaks o'." Dorden sald, “Haven't you read,o’ it in them papers? t is the path to the left of the monastery,” said Dor- time fit Can you?” e clump starting. “that the treasure satd sald Dorden, rising. 11 go there at sunrise, then,” “We'll divide.” "%( it's lrue.';‘ said I. - - “It's got to be true,” Dorden retorted. * got to change some time. & ot e~ Fenton sat there, the sweat pouring from his pale ce. ““You poor limp fool,” Dorden sai \r;;\ the first (hi;l: is for us to go to e seemed to direct us like a captai allowed him the leadership, Yet lI’ far:‘;claer:id v;:mr:lal'fllliz dangerous in his eves, and I remember that after I was in bed I arose and bolted mv door. What if the dream d contemptuously. bedo P > 1d that treas- % tossed till sountain, per- as It we er of thieves it we should fi a dream? Ay, what if we § o the sun came over rlhc]: mfix\.}?;dn P s, of the cave of the 5 : PaR O atarted gut after breamagrtfiestnel:lm were on some thievxsa:“e‘rrand. Lo d 11 to us easily. . old 1o seex:fgfi:g!f?h]e search promised ngeléafoorf e O eerink for the monastery was a marvelous piece O% JACICT, rrer all fts day and time. Nature, so forceful I8 OGS T the years. had not destroved man's otk 0 Ghic wa followed that splencld and forgotieh FEI roo4, suc minded us nothing so much as of an old RETIEE Tsariatic. as you may see along the Mediterranean o8 Sq° e yt in Countless treasure, perhaps, had been droS¥y /0" peen the old days before the mine (0 “»'T‘:‘ e sions. On abandoned. Yes, it told of old Interests, O we went doggedly, through the thick gT with 2 word, mutely following Dor must have past—the growth mad before at last we saw the high proje Tock then existed! My heart beal uPIfd, knew how my companions felt from the PALCS den disp From the w n side, the rock's base, he began to pace. : ~One, two— v o W sheer face Fenton and 1 followed. Yes, there was the sheer fage of the cliff, and the thick trees and bushes at its 005 oo/ stumbled on over the lavers of rotting trunks anc BeC A snake, so deadly in Sonora, ran out before him, ¥ 1o den persisted, and again we were favored, T en directly, with' scarcely an error, on the opening: DOTCLT had brought a machete, and now proceeded 10 0 17 bushes away, and then we heard a low, distal subdued thunder. 3 ) =2 %rhe river,” Fenton cried at this repeated el;‘igflcr;c‘ge But what we saw was more encouraging. For B e Stopped at about twenty feet. It was walled by masonis: lichen covered. A hundred wriggling creatures were ©f the surface. But here was, Indeed, what Miguel Santoss dead a full century and a half, had promised; and there was the iron door, rusted and discolored, so that we WoIZ dered if indeed it would answer to the pressure on tn upper left-hand corner; wondered if in all the vears tho treasure had not been taken. Again it was Derden mak/ng the trail, while we stood waiting. The road to ric to the cave of Santos' avarice—seemed easy. Indeed. The air that swept our faces was larly rd)l’”.“ sweet, due to the waters that we heard now in a deafens ing rcar. Dorden had no difficuity in lighting the candl vhich gave a feeble glare in the vast place W et ‘B safd. as he advanced: and we saw wa were on the edge of a vast precipice, with the undis: tinguishable mass of the roaring river far. far below. W4 all three turned about, our faces blanghing. And then a strange thing occurred. A pale white'light began to bg diffused. I could not account for it then: though now understand_that the shifting sun had reached some open- ing along the course of that underground river. It was a vast stream, indeed; a sheer fall of many hundred feet as we now were able to see. The farther shore we could not tell In that half light—now it had become armost like early twilight; but it seemed to me as broad as the Hudson. roaric Jor even Dor- e center of a % Whence did it come? and whither were those waters car-e, But I was intesrupted by Dor- den’s cry. He was pointing toward_a projecting cliff, which hung out far over the water. It was approached by a narrow neck, so that it formed a peninsula jutting Inta the air above the roaring waters. The space might have had a diameter of fifty feet. But what we saw astounded us even In our expectations, now raised by the success ot every step of the search. On this space were above a score of iron chests, their lids all opened, revealing in tha increasing light the sheen of diamonds, the blue and green of sapphires and the glow of rubies. They lay there beck- oning, as Miguel Santos had left them. X¥rom many of the chests was the absorbing yellow glare of golden coins; 50 many that in the moment we could not calculate their number. Yet we knew that hcre was wealth ch as Croesus’ incalculable riches of gold, and preclous stones. But why had they been put on that jutting rock? I ques- tioned. 5 I don't belleve the others ever questioned. Now that we could see quite plainly, Dorden cast the candle dowY} into the depths, and almost ran toward the treasure. saw him dizzily rushing along the narrow passage, and kneeling before one of the chests, and crying out like a maniac. Fenton was close behind him, gloating over the Jewels. As I followed he picked from one of the chests a piece of manuscript. “What is this,” he said, holding it up, for the light now was strong enough for us to read by it. More of Santos’ words!"” he added Look at the gold, not papers,” Dorden cried. But the instinct of the scholar master Fenton even in that moment. iguel rendered: 'Gold_thou comest by dishonestly always. For sin must be penance. Fool, thou shalt perish with thy gold and preclous stones. The pu hment of God on the miser is that he shall not keep what he gloats on.” rled in their mad whirl? Santos’ writing,” he sald; and stowly he shalt curse thee “Fool!” came Dorden’s voice, hissing over our shou! ers. I looked at him almost fearfully, for there was a maddish glare in his ey Suddenly, like a fiend, he threw himself on us both. “It shall be mine,” he cried. “Only mine.” The onslaught carried us all three near the edge, Fenton and I struggling to hold him pack. way—God knows how—I disentangled my just at the edge. My compa. from afar was a little sp! horrid despair—it inde while a voice cried out, in e been my strained im- agination, and yet, indeed, it may have been Dord: “Cursed! Cursed!"” came that fearsome cry. some, I say, for I was fleeing. 1 *ross the narrow passage, and as I reached the firmer earth I heard a great and crumbling behind. Awed even in my fear I looked about. The alr seemed to be filled with flying cotns and jewels, sending out yellow and red, blue and green fia then the earth gave away, that great crag sank, moment—yes, it might have been & moment, but i to me a tedlously horrible day — th splash, and a spray struck my face, so far above the surface of that great river whick and ends In the bowels of the earth. Its no point you may find, should you examine, strewn with old Spanish coins and jewels, and perhaps with the men. Yet most of that great wealth may carried by the forceful current of the river far the earth, which gives and takes our rich and takes our bodies. on under as she gives As for me, I had then no desire to search, nor have I now. Then I turned and ran out of that accursed cave of avarice. Outside the warm Mexican sun beat on me. But 1 did not dare to return to Corpus Christi. I turned down the other side of the mountain, thinking of the soul of Miguel Santos, and those of my two late companions— God help them! For me in the few years left there is gena_n(‘e for my past, and so I have come back into the New England town where my crime was done. As for the riches of the cave of avarice, I would not touch them, even for the comfort of restitution to those 1 robbed. The secret of Miguel Santos shall end with me, for the way to the cave is not as I have described, even should you chance in the village of Corpus Christl, In the State Sonora. (Copyright, 188, by Clinton Ross.) STUFF THAT MAKES HEROES. at § Captalin Sigsbee, almost stunned by the xplosion on the Maine, rushed from his cabin, he was Union forces. caid “I have to report that the Maine is blown up, sir.” An incident connected witk the taking of New Orleans by Farragut is brought BROWN PRISMATIC POWDER ACTUAL SIZE,FOR 1S INCH GUNS W = e A to mind by the coolness of the salute and report on the deck of Anticipating his coming the s had destroyed ld be of value or comfort to Great quantitics of ton, cotton seed and suger were b on the wharves, many of which, of wood, were also consumed, and the cotton seed falling through gave the water the appearance of solid ground. There must have been 50,000 people gathered down at the river to see the “Yankees land.” A moment after everything that the being the first gunboat SMOKELEDSS POWDER FOR THE KRAG - JORGENSEN 30 CALIBER: REPEATING RIFLE THIS IS BLACK POWDER FOR THE BIG MODERN MORTARSDS. " ANOTNER SIZE OF il POMW HEAV GUNS. : SRS ONE FCRM OF ARTILLERY dropped her anchor a boat load of men under command of as fine looking an officer as ever carried a sword—all in full dress, blue coat and white trousers, for the weather was warm—shot out from the gunboat and made for the shore. on the Custom House, instantly from sight. cotton seed and feet of water. POWDER . SMOKELESS PowDER ACTUAL SIZE. FORTHE SETONDARY BATTERIES BROWN POWDER FOR RAPID FIRE ~UNS ONE FORM OF POWDER, ACTUAL SIZE, FOR HEAVY COAST BATTERIED, TWO SAMPLES. CTUAL SIZE.OF gained a footing on ‘the As they wharf the officer gave the command: “Attention, by fours; march.” And they started to pull down the only Confederate flag in sight—that The first step taken by the officer and he disappeared He had stepped upon a covering of gone down in eighteen A couple of his men caught him as he rose to the surface and lifted him to solid footing, water, cotton seed and all. Straightening himself up he repeated his command as quietly as it nothing unusual had occurred and started up the street, leaving a trail of water and cotton seed behind him. Such a shout as went up from that great crowd! It seemed more like a friendly greeting than what had really been in their hearts to say. Such men are heroes, great and true. left oblique; FORM OF A HALF CHASCH OF BROWN PRISMATIC POWDER FOR Acl2INCH GUN AR ENE A o, WHAT THE GRAINS OF POWDER LOOK LIKE THAT ARE BEING USED BY OUR ARMY AND NAVY HE accompanying illustrations show a few little grains of powder for Uncle Sam to burn. They are being rushed out by the ton down In the Santa Cruz Mountains, where the Califorpia Powder Works is hustling to fill a new order for 3,000,000 pounds of brown prismatic and 200,00 pounds of smokeless powder for the army and navy. Quite different these from the grains that you buy for ducks and deer. The strange ammunition that Uncle Sam uses Is rarely seen by the public and a collection of sam- ples would be a very popular addition to the park museum. The great variety of odd forms and sizes is the first thing that commands the curious interest of one who sees a display of government powder for the first time, and there is besides a 18t of interesting things to know about the stuff that propels all the havoc dealing projectiles of modern warfare, from the little, long, wicked, human Krag-Jorgensen .30 caliber bullet to the big half-ton shells for battleships and coast defenses. Perhaps the smokeless powders are the most interes ing. One might be surprised, on picking up a lath a parently made of dried glue, to be told that it was a grain of smokeless powder for a 13-inch gun. That is one style in which this powder is prepared for use. The stuff is rolled out and cut into strips 32 inches long. Each strip is tough enough to do actual service as a lath. It is not brittle and it takes considerable strength to tear one in two. Little grooves run the whole length of one size to facilitate combustion when the time comes. For use these strips are tied Into round bundles about the size of the gun bore and when the shell is in the long bundle constituting the powder charge is quickly chucked in behind it and the breech closed. That is a very con- venient style of powder, surely. It sounds odd to say that these strips of smokeless powder would make very convenlent and satisfactory kin- dling wood, but it's a fact. Blow up the house? Why, no. You can safely touch a match to any plece of smokeless powder held in the hand. It will simply burn rather slowly with a slight sputtering and with a weird, yellow, smoke- less blaze, and if the piece is small and tne flame S0 not very strong you can blow out the flame with.your breath and repeat the experiment. And you can safely whack the stuff around, too. One of these tough straps would be an excellent thing to spank a bad little boy with. If a whole magazine of this powder were set afire and the door were open to allow the gases to escape the pow- der would simply burn up without exploding. It requires a detonation to explode the stuff and if there are detonators around it is well to be careful. A bundle of these straps gives a half-ton shell an en- ergy that would lift the battleship Oregon eight feet out of the water. Smokeless powder is put up In_many other forms. Most of it is made into short, round cylinders with holes through them to facilitate combustion. In size they range from minute grains for the Krag-Jorgensen cartridges to three inches in length for the heavier rapid-fire guns, for use in which the cylinders are packed into the big car- tridges or tied up in sacks for the slow firing guns in which the powder is separated from the projectile. These smokeless powders are preparations of nitro- glycerine and gnucotton, treated with various chemicals and with many delicate manipulations. But two firms in America have been able to Groducc smokeless wder that will stand the tests, and Uncle Sam now pays 8 cents a pd nd for it in ton lots. 1 The brown prismatic powders are interesting, too. They are made of the same ingredientts as cammon black gunpowder—charcoal, saltpeter and sulphur—but their action is wholly different. Common black gunpowder es off all at once and all together. The gun feels the ull strain of the shock before the sheil has time to fairly start. A full charge would be apt to destroy a 13-Inch gun. But when a charge of slow-ourning brown powder Is detonated In a gun it doesn't §0 off in an ili-tempered flash. Figuratively it spits on its hands, puts its shoulder to the half-ton shell, gives it an easy start and gradually hustles it along with increasing force until when the muzzle s reached the shell is going 2500 feet a second. Black powder would show all its strength inside the £un in about three-thousandths of a second. The brown powder uses about forty-thousandths of a second in get- ting into full operation, which shows the leisurely and de- t.rn'lx_l’:l:ddr;'a'mre of {i':cla Sn.\z:'gl prize powder. ‘erence between the powders arises w'l'li%lg ll’;’;hed laking of :g;dchafcasl. Senost e wders are mo! into hexagonal blocks with holes through them. Their sizes are propor calibres of the difterent PR B Btow Arine hey are put up in half-charges, because an enth . Ee a sack or bundie so long that it woulseb;h;xrrfif cult to handle and more apt to bi and spill powder around in an uncomfortable way. Great skill an much costly and ingenlous machi; o P nery is used In making these