Chapter 12

Upon turning back, however, he found not Minnie, but another small maiden near him. He darted again into the Star Chamber just as the fleet steps of Minnie Dare ran toward him. Not, however, in time to prevent his discerning among the shadows Eldon Brand hurrying to her side.

Catching the girl's tender arm in a vise-like grip, the man hissed in her ear,--

"By Heaven, my girl, if you don't stop philandering in the dark with that young scoundrel, I'll pitch him into the first pit I see! You belong to me, and I'll kill you before another shall have you!"

With a cry of mingled pain and terror the girl broke from him. Eldon Brand, who had seen the gesture without hearing the words, sprung with uplifted arm toward the man. Ere he could strike he was seized from behind by strong arms, and a voice urged,--

"Don't, Brand! For Heaven's sake, let that ruffian alone till we get out of this. You will frighten the ladies, get yourself into the newspapers, and play the deuce generally. Come on--they are calling in front."

Hammond had seen this little by-play, and would not soon forget it; but at present he strode on after the girl.

"Why don't you fellows keep up?" grumbled a voice as the delinquents entered the Chapel.

"Did anybody fall? I thought I heard a cry back there," said the tall young lady peering suspiciously into the group; but all seemed serene in the fitful torchlight.

In the Chapel huge stalactites and stalagmites meet each other to form arm-chairs, thrones, alcoves, pulpits, and a double niche conspicuous among its surroundings. Standing within this niche a restless pair exclaimed:

"What a capital place to be married! Who will pronounce the ceremony?"

"Bless you, my children!" invoked a sober-looking fellow, extending his arms in mock solemnity.

An earnest, significant look flashed from Eldon Brand's eyes into the still blanched face of Minnie Dare. As they met the glance it bore but one meaning to her, and the rosy color again mantled her cheek.

"Time's up," said the guide; "come along."

It was late ere the party completed the tour of the Short Route wonders, and there was barely time to dress for the ball-room at Cave Hotel, a dance being an attractive interlude between journeyings.

Indoor etiquette forbade the hateful espionage to which Hammond had subjected the girl he claimed as his own during the informal jaunt of the day. So at ten o'clock, despite the scowl on his dark face, she stood up in the dance with Eldon Brand.

Perhaps her persecutor might have attuned his wooing to something less ferocious, but soft words having proved futile, he sought to frighten her into compliance. Love's dallying might come later on. He deemed his prize secure. She could not escape him. He held her father's honor--aye, his very life--in his relentless grasp; for Colonel Dare was not a man who could survive disgrace. Let her rebel, and the world should hear an ugly story of rash speculation, involving a ward's trust money; of financial ruin and despair. Oh, yes--she was his, fast and sure.

It required all her persuasive power to withhold her lover from a personal attack upon her betrothed husband.

"It can do no good, Eldon," she urged; "my father has promised my hand to this man. He is somehow in his power. There seems no escape. Oh, that I might die and be free! It is like a horrible nightmare."

Then his words came in passionate pleading. Eloquently the tones fell upon her ears. At length the hopeless apathy in her eyes gave place to interest, then animation, and finally to a degree of agitation but ill-concealed from the suspicious watcher. They were standing on a low balcony just outside the ballroom.

"Will you, dearest? Will you be brave for my sake--for our sakes?" were Eldon's parting words.

"I will try," she murmured softly, as with a fond pressure of the hand he resigned her to a new partner.

Early next morning Eldon Brand might have been seen returning from a little wayside shop with a bundle, whose contents--a ball of heavy twine, a can of oil, and a box of matches--would have surprised his fellow tourists. He conversed earnestly for some minutes with Stephen, the favorite guide of Mammoth Cave, to whom he also conveyed some bank notes; and at eight o'clock he joined the party en route for the nine-mile tramp into the cave. For two miles the way was the same as that of the short route, bats and all. Then came the immense hall where rude plank seats still attest the worship of pioneer settlers in the land of Indians and wild beasts. Here they sat and sang hymns, while countless echoes repeated the sounds.

They paused in the Ball Room; squeezed through Fat Man's Misery, that zig-zag passage so narrow and winding that the one behind cannot see his neighbor a yard ahead; and then out into the ample comfort of Great Relief. Merrily they filled the little boats and sailed down Echo River, where abound the eyeless fish; crossed Lake Lethe, where all care is said to be left behind; passed the huge Granite Coffin; stood wondering before the Great Eastern; shuddered beside the Dead Sea and the Bottomless Pit; climbed Martha's Vineyard, where huge bunches of grapes in stone looked as natural as life; took lunch in Washington Hall; revelled in the snow-white crystals of Siliman's Avenue; crossed the Rocky Mountains to Traveller's Rest, and there wrote their names upon the extreme wall, that perpetual register of hundreds of sightseers.

Here some moments were given to recapitulating the marvels of the long route; the rivers, lakes, hills, ravines and valleys; and above all, another black, yawning chasm similar to that which had startled them on the short route.

"Stephen, where does that lead?" was the query.

"That leads into the one we saw yesterday. We call this end Beersheba, and the other Dan, because it is so much nearer the mouth of the cave. I have explored the whole passage, but it has nothing worth showing visitors. But I have no doubt there's miles that nobody has ever been over. It's a big place, I tell you."

"Didn't you find the dead stranger?" asked the tall girl, who always had something to say.

"Can't say as I looked for him, miss."

In high spirits the party retraced their steps as far as the Bottomless Pit on the right, and the black chasm Beersheba, on the left, a distance of about five miles from the entrance to the cave.

"Take care!" warned the guide; "it is wet and slippery here, and the path is very narrow."

They were creeping on in single file when Stephen called back,--

"Mr. Hammond, you look pretty strong--would you help steady this railing? It seems a little shaky."

Hammond came on ahead and stood bracing the bridge, which was one of the very few man-made structures in the cavern, while the other escorts led the girls, one at a time, around the abrupt and slippery ledge. In consequence of this stringing out of torches, the light was dim along the narrow way, so that even these few steps of advance had left the Bottomless Pit in darkness.

Suddenly there was a rapid, rushing sound in the rear; a whirring echo; a suppressed cry, and a heavy splash far below. The ladies screamed, and the faces of the men grew pallid with horror.

"My God! What was it? Who was it?" burst from their lips.

"Don't go back, gentlemen!" shouted the guide. "It's no use! Come on this side here--I'll go back. First, see who is missing. If anybody is down there, the Lord have mercy on him, for man can't help him."

Soon the trembling, awe-struck party were safe on a platform, and the lights were bunched to their full radiance. Some one cried:

"Minnie Dare is not here!" "And, by Jove, Eldon Brand is not here, either!" said the chorus. Then in a low tone, "Could it have been suicide? How horrible!"

And this thought was the prevailing one, for the trials of the lovers were well known.

Jason Hammond ran back precipitately with the guide, and in a sort of frenzy peered far into the awful chasm. Words of blasphemy were on his lips as he began to realize to what end his persecution had driven the fair young creature he had sworn to win. As for Brand, he rejoiced in his fate. Could it have been an accident? He thought not.

"No use," repeated the guide, "I can come back here and bring somebody who will go down on a rope. But I tell you the bottom of that place has never been found yet. We let a young fellow down by a rope last summer in a frolic--his name was Mr. Clarence Prentice--and he pretty soon called out to haul him up. Learned folks say a river runs down there, and there ain't any bottom at all. Everything gets swept away with the current. I don't know how it is, I am sure,"

Slowly the terror-stricken company wended their way back to earth, the light of enjoyment driven from their hearts. The girls gave themselves up to sobs and tears, and all dreaded to convey the tidings to the bereaved families.

The men went back with ropes and grappling hooks, but nothing came of their labors. The bodies of the hapless lovers were not found, and none knew how they had gone over the treacherous crag into the abyss below. Surmises were rife, but prudence chose the better part of silent sympathy. The newspapers fairly gloated over the tragedy, and summer visitors were divided between curiosity to look upon the spot and fear lest they, too, might miss their footing; hence the profits of Cave Hotel were not noticeably on the decrease.

Colonel Dare refused to be comforted, unless, indeed, he could rejoice at the escape of the dove from the eagle's clutches. Now that the girl was lost to him, Hammond was willing to accept terms before declined; and the Dare ancestral home was at once put upon the market for sale.

Eldon Brand had no near relatives, but there were many to mourn his untimely fate.

* * * * *

Some hours after the disappearance of the lovers, Stephen, the guide, re-entered the cave with a large bundle in his arms, and accompanied by a single tourist, a sedate man who was a stranger to the region. They proceeded along the short route to the chapel. Adjusting the torches, Stephen gave a low whistle, when from behind a mammoth stalagmite came forth a young man and a fair maiden, who took their stand in the Double Niche.

Eldon Brand had left nothing undone during his hours of preparation; and when the man of God stood before the youthful pair, he held in his hands the properly authenticated document which was to cement the marriage tie in the civil courts. He had never before officiated at so unique a bridal, and when once more on terra firma proper, he bore the secret away to his Northern home.

Days passed and still the tragic fate of the hapless lovers held a place in fireside chats.

Night had fallen. All was quiet in the sparsely settled neighborhood of Cave Hotel. Stephen, the guide, with basket and torch, swiftly descended the winding stairs and entered the grand colonnade, where the bats still held high carnival. He pushed on, sometimes a little cramped for space, till he reached the black avenue he had called Dan. Stooping he possessed himself of a string that was fastened to a stake in the ground, and followed its course through intricate windings till a light glimmered in the distance. Whistling softly, he advanced more rapidly. A shadow was flung upon the curtains of a doorway, and parting the folds, a figure appeared at the opening.

"Ah, old fellow, you never forget us," was the cheery greeting.

"Not I," said the man, "I think you will find your list all made out here," depositing his basket inside.

The room was small and irregular in shape, but good taste and moderate expenditure had converted it into a rustic boudoir of no mean pretensions. Cretonne hangings concealed the rough walls, and a few small pictures served to confine their bright folds to the uneven surface of earth and rock. The earthen floor was covered by a mat. A couch of the light, portable kind was daintily spread. A shelving rock, covered with a mat of Japanese print, held a never-failing lamp, and two camp-chairs completed the furniture, which had been conveyed into the cave with the utmost care and secrecy. A few books and a number of papers lay scattered about. The presiding deity of the fairy bower looked a radiant welcome for the trusty ally upon whom they were dependent.

"You dear old Stephen! Don't you think it is time we ventured out into the world again?"

"Why, I think this looks like Heaven!" he said, with the freedom of his office, "I don't know what you'd leave it for."

"Yes, but you know that if it were not for your basket we should be forced to appear. But I am learning to manage the ovens and pans. See here," and opening an inner curtain she revealed an alcove, where a few primitive cooking utensils were collected beside a small gasoline stove.

"I reckon your cooking don't come to much more than warming over my bill of fare," said Stephen, with an involuntary glance at the soft white hands, and an indulgent smile for the young housekeeper.

"Oh, but I do cook, really," she protested. "Eldon, did you ever taste nicer eggs? And the water down there carries off all the shells and scraps. Hear it rush along now!" and busily the stream did run to flow into Green river, so the knowing ones said. "But," she added; "if my father only knew. The moment we hear that that hateful man has gone abroad we will defy all the rest. Do you know, Stephen," in a lower tone, "we were very near being caught on the hill to-day. I was all bent over as usual in my old woman's dress, and Eldon was limping along on his crutch stick when--hark! what was that?"

"Did you hear anything?" asked Eldon, coming to her side, "don't be frightened, love. It could not have been any one. You are nervous."

The young wife's cheek paled a little as she reminded him of a frightful dream she had before mentioned.

"Nonsense, dear, we are safe as long as my bank holds out. In a short while we will brave the world and be at least a nine days' wonder."

Hoping to persuade Minnie Dare to elope with him, after their colloquy on the balcony the night of the ball, and thereby escape her persecutor, the young man had not followed the cave party on the long route without first amply supplying his purse. Stephen had suggested the strategem they impulsively employed of temporarily disappearing into the black corridor opposite the Bottomless Pit, after throwing a heavy rock down the abyss to simulate a fall; and Stephen had mapped out for them the whole situation succeeding the supposed catastrophe. Thus far they had not lacked for comforts; and stolen visits in disguise to the upper regions had varied their solitude and given refreshing glimpses of sunlight.

"Eldon, I am sure I heard a noise!" again exclaimed the girl, clinging in terror to his arm.

To appease her, the two men went out and made search. All was as usual--unless, indeed, a shred of cloth adhering to a jagged rock had not been there before. Stephen soon after left the pair, unconscious that a dark shadow was following him into the upper world, there to vanish among the shadows.

For there is nothing hidden that shall not be revealed; and this well-guarded secret, known to only four persons, was trembling at its foundation. For her beloved father's sake the young wife was willing to endure privation; for she reasoned that Hammond would have no motive for vengeance if she were supposed to be lost; that her death would end the mysterious power that threatened disgrace to Colonel Dare. Stephen was paid well to be on guard, and his report that he had more than once seen Hammond in the vicinity, made them exercise extreme caution and vigilance in going outside.

At first the spirit of unrest had drawn the baffled suitor to the scene, where he had driven the unwilling maiden to her death, for he had loved her as well as a selfish nature can love. Gradually there dawned upon his mind a suspicion somewhat akin to the truth. Rumors were afloat that Stephen made nightly visits to the cave, not with exploring parties, but alone. A young couple had been seen wandering over the hills in the moonlight. Superstition said it was the ghosts of the ill-fated lovers. But when Jason Hammond heard these things they startled him as if struck with an electric shock. He did not believe in ghosts. He resolved to watch. He, too, saw the figures at night. He saw them disappear behind the steep ledge that leads downward into the bowels of the earth. He drew his own conclusions.

If true, what should stay his vengeance against those who had thus duped him? He sought his opportunity, and cautiously followed the guide unto the very portals of the lovers' retreat. He heard the voices he remembered but too well. He knew now where to strike. He knew, too, that fear of him kept Minnie Dare thus hidden, as in a grave. Aye, she feared disgrace for her father, and more than all, she feared his vengeance against her husband--for he did not doubt that they were married. Husband? As the word forced itself, the man ground his teeth in baffled rage and hate. He would take care that the dreaded vengeance should be swift and sure.

The path to the subterranean retreat was perilous to a stranger; but having gone once, he was sure he could go again. The way was even now familiar enough as far as the black avenue of Dan. Here the string, placed for the convenience of the lovers, would guide him, and if his plans should be upset, he could retreat into the other black opening leading to the Bottomless Pit, where he now knew the lost pair had plunged into Beersheba instead of into the chasm, the two landmarks being exactly opposite. He had not forgotten the guide's account of these two unexplored regions where there was "nothing of interest to show tourists." He began to see through the plot from the hour of the so-called tragedy. How easy, with the artful guide's connivance, to cast a stone down the echoing ravine, then conceal themselves in the corridor close by, extinguish their torches, and await in silence the next coming of their assistant! He himself had been adroitly decoyed out of the way to steady the railing of the rickety bridge. The abrupt and narrow ledge had hidden them from view. The escape was easy. All was clear now, and the life of the man who had cheated him should pay the penalty. Should she continue to refuse his suit, she, too, must die. The should find their grave in the spot they loved so well. There would be none to tell the tale.

Armed with a revolver, he groped on, using a torch as far as he dared. The absence of crystal formations, so thick and shining elsewhere, left large, roomy passages easy to traverse, though there were frequent turns puzzling to the uninitiated. As he approached the cosy bower he heard, to his chagrin, the voice of the guide. What should he do? The odds were too many for him. Wait till next day when his victims would probably be alone? Risk going in upon them before nightfall? How had Stephen eluded his vigilance? In this dilemma he crept near enough to get a view of the interior. The sight of Minnie Brand seated at her husband's knee, his hand caressing her flowing curls, so inflamed his wrath that an oath burst from his lips. The sound penetrated the boudoir. It was this time unmistakable. Minnie uttered a faint cry. The two men started up, and snatching a torch, quickly lit it, and dashed out.

"To the inner chamber, my darling!" Eldon called back, as he threw down the folds of the portiere and rushed headlong with Stephen.

They scoured the Short Route avenue to its full length, while Hammond, his soul raging with murderous intent, traversed as rapidly as he dared, the Beersheba avenue toward the Long Route opening.

"By the eternal! He's gone the other way! But he can't get out! Right about!"

Retracing their steps they had to proceed more cautiously, but they soon caught sight of the figure ahead, now lost, now reappearing.

"It is that blackhearted villain, who has hounded us!" cried Eldon. "On! on!"

But the guide, true to his calling, shouted:

"Surrender, or you are a dead man! The Bottomless Pit is right ahead of you."

The fugitive halted a moment, glanced back, then dashed on again in defiance. At a sudden projection he tripped and fell, discharging the pistol into his own body. The sound reverberated in a thousand echoes. The wounded man staggered to his feet, and managed to gain the frail bridge. Here he fell across the railing, swayed there an instant; then as his pursuers came up with helping hands, he plunged into the abyss below.

* * * * *

The denizens of Cave City never tire of telling how Eldon Brand and his wife came back to the world, and how they fared in their romantic retreat. But there was a part of the story as strange as it was tragic. Upon dismantling the boudoir a leathern girdle was found, which contained several hundred dollars in gold, and a letter which ran thus:--

"I am a dying man. I cannot find my way out. I have not strength to call, I must perish here of disease and want. I will make one more effort, but feel that I shall fail. I have made my peace with God. In leaving this world I leave only one enemy behind. This is Jason Hammond, who has wronged me foully. Living or dead, I shall haunt him. To whomsoever shall give this poor body Christian burial, I bequeath my estate." (Here followed the location and description of the property).

"Signed:

"DAVID HAMMOND."

The paper was almost illegible. It had been written in pencil. An extended search was made and the skeleton of a man was found in one of the most inaccessible recesses of the cave's many turnings. Beside the body lay a torch and an exhausted lunch basket. Eldon Brand had the remains reverently committed to earth.

The village gossips love to dwell upon the happiness of the brave young lovers, of the restoration of the gray-haired father to his old home in honor and in plenty, and of the blooming lads and lassies that sprang up as time passed tenderly over the heads of the reunited household.

A REVERIE

The twilight falls in gloom; All day the fitful sun and sparkling show'r Have played at hide-and-seek amid the bloom-- The varied tints of Spring's fresh bow'r. Oh, sure each bud and blossom knows the spell Their subtle fragrance weaves about my brow; Oh, sure a mystic tale their echoes tell-- Love's soft, low-whispered vow.

The deep'ning sky o'ercast, The shadows slowly length' ning 'neath the trees, The tender leaves, swift in the vernal blast, To catch the music of the breeze; The young lush grass a-peep above the earth, The trailing vines that to the lattice cling, Ah, these to fancies warm and true give birth, And o'er my senses fling.

On landscape charms I glance; The city's distant hum is lull'd to rest, Athwart the sunset dark'ning clouds advance. And shut from sight the rosy west; A dreamy orison enshrines my heart. Deep shelter'd in the sacred haunts of home, Where elfin sprites among the eeries dart, Irradiate in the gloam.

Shine out, sweet love, unveil Thy ecstasy erst wrought in accents wild; Within my soul there breathes an anguish'd wail, Unsoothed by resignation mild. I would not, if I might, give back the joy That sweeps my pulses with enraptured thrill; In transports pure the moments cannot cloy-- My craving lingers still.

Nor time may rend the tie; The fealty that holds the captive will In potent thrall, if sever'd soon, Poor human faith a-blight and chill must die. O birdlings, blossoms, leaflets, flow'rs, Give forth chaste spirits to enchant the air; Let silver'd mem'ries glad the lonely hours, And crown my picture fair.

* * * * *