WEST SHORE.
like a silent offering of thanks that my curious adven
ture had, after all, terminated so harmlessly.
" Following the ledge with careful steps it soon led
me upward to level ground, and when I emerged from
a willow thicket I found myself on theispot at which
I had halted the previous evening. Pedro was quietly
grazing ndt'far off and "my provisions were intact
where I had left them.
" It was while sitting on the bank of the stream
taking my much-needed breakfast that a strange and
startling idea suggested itself to me. I was thinking
of the arrow carved upon the sandstone slab, wonder
ing if it had been wrought by the man whose bones
had found sepulture in the dug-out ; and, if so, what
purpose it was meant to serve. Suddenly the curious
words of my twice-dreamt dream recurred to me
" ' At the arrow's point I '
" A shudder ran over me as I saw again in fancy
the hollow, burning eyes of my dream visitant and
heard the anguished tones in which the words were
wailed out. Of course it was all a phantasm of my
troubled sleep, but
" Perhaps it was the wild loneliness of the locality
that set my brain teeming with weird and restless fan
cies ; I can not say; I only know that ere long I re
solved to re-enter the dug-out and try to decipher the
characters upon the stone.
" Finding my way back along the ledge into my
darksome prison of the previous night, I was soon 1
kneeling before the stone rubbing away the loose sand
and making out the letters ' D-I-G.' As they were
large capitals my first impression naturally was1 that
they were the initials of a name. But suddenly it
flashed upon me that they spelled a word' dig.' In
another instant I had connected the word with those
mysterious ones of my dream
" ' Dig at the arrow's point I ' .
" I began trembling with excitement, and instinct
ively glanced over my shoulder at the poor, lifeless
bones in the corner. Had I received a message from
the dead ? '
" Replacing the stone before the entrance, that I
might determine the exact spot at which the arrow
pointed when in that position, I drew a stout butcher
knife from my belt and began to dig.
" The sandy soil was easily removed to a depth of
eight or ten inches j then I struck a flat stone that re
quired some time and effort to dislodge. When it was
finally lifted and tossed aside, my heart bounded with
the queerest emotion imaginable, for there, in a cavity
beneath the stone, lay a tin canteen, such as soldiers,
huntsmen and miners are wont to use to carry bever
ages somewhat stronger than the mouatain streams
afford. It was red with rust that fell off in great
scales as I lifted it. Moreover, it was heavy.
" ' Gold I ' I muttered, nervously; and true enough,
when I removed the bit of rotten cork and emptied
the contents into my hat, it was a stream of yellow ,
gold I saw, dust and nuggets varying in size from a
pea to a hazel nut a whole pint of it. ,
" When I thought I had emptied the canteen, I
found there was yet something inside that rattled but
would not be shaken out. Thinking of a nugget still
larger than any of its fellows, I twisted the rusty tin
asunder and found, not a nugget, but a painted bit of
tin folded two or three times. I unfolded it, and start
ed to my feet with a hoarse cry - of mingled amaze
ment and joy. What I held in my hand was a tin
type picture of Helen Poindexter."
" As I turned it in my trembling grasp I found,
scratched with some sharp-pointed instrument on tho
reverse side, these words
" Boys, I am dying here in the old dug-out all alone,
wounded by cursed Shoshones. If you ever come back and
find this, I know you will send the gold to my poor wife Helen,
at Leavenworth, Kansas. Good-bye,
POINDBXTEH.
" For a moment I stood gazing alternately at the
beautiful, beloved features and the words that meant
life, hope, joy for me ; then I sank down and gave way
to the first tears my manhood had knowntears born
of a happiness and gratitude that could find no other
expression. In recollection I had gone back to that
May morning four years in tho past, whon a pair of
sweet lips, with my kisses warm upon them, had said
to me
" ' No, no ; I want no Enoch Ardcn tragedy enact
ed in my life. We must part, dear Henry, and you
must never come to me again, unless it be to prove to
me that my husband no longer lives.'
" I had never sought nor hoped for uch proof, and
now, here it was, placed in my hands by shall I say
Providence? Could any earthly chance havo wrought
such a miracle?
" That is all of my story, Bronson, except that I
gave a tender and solemn burial to all that remained
of the man who had been Helen's husband, and then
I hastened back to Leavenworth as fast as available
traveling facilities could carry me, and you know the
rest. I leave you to decide whether or not I have rea
son to believe in ' love at first sight,' and in
" A divinity that nhapes our ends,
Hough-hew thun how w will."
Carrie Bi.akk Moroan.
A neatly printed invitation has been received from
the Hoquiam board of trade to attend the celebration
in that city on tho Fourth of July. This shows the
enterprising nature of the citizens and accounts pome
what for the rapid growth Hoquiam is enjoying.