THE LOST MINE.

Observer, Volume 7, Issue 236, 21 March 1885, Page 1

THE LOST MINE.

By Thomas A. Janyier.

(Continued from our last.)

Techita sat in her nook under the edge of the bluff and watched the sun go down, and very, very heavy was her heart. At last the stroke that she had dreaded for so long had fallen : her father had told her that the time had come when she must be the wife of Don Jose. ISTor would he so much as listen to her entreaties that this might not "be. Breaking in upon her words, he had said, "It is my will" — and so had left her, desolate of hope. That night there was no beauty for her ■in the sunset; and when the glory was gone out of the sky, and she went slowly through the dimness of twilight into the darkness of the church, bitter sorrow was upon her and her eyes were weary with their weight of tears. fc>he knelt before the picture of the saint, as was her habit, but from her lips there came no prayer. What was the good of praying? she thought. Had she not prayed again and again with all the faith and strength that was in her that she might be spared that which now had come ? The saint was far away in heaven — too far to heed the pleadings of a poor, lonely child on earth. Ah ! would that she were safe in heaven, too ! And then, still kneeling upon the clay floor before the picture of .the saint, she fell into a dreary reverie, thinking of the life time of happiness for which she had hoped , of the life-time of sorrow that now she must endure. Yet, while she knelt thus, looking the while sadly, steadfastly upon the saint's sweet face, shining out from the surrounding darkness as a gleam from the sunset's afterglow struck full upon it through the little window beneath the roof, she seemed lo see a look of loving pity come into the gentle eyes, to see upon the tender lips a pitying smile ; and the hope came to her that the saint, forgiving her for doubting her saintly power to comfort and to aid, even yet through the saving strength of heavenly grace would turn her mourning into joy. So there came into her troubled soul a little thrill of happiness. "Techa!" A quiver went over her, and for a moment her heart stopped beating, as the thought fell upon her that, in very truth, the saint had spoken — and then she knew that the voice sounding low in the darkness was the voice of Juan. "Techa, art thou here? I must speak with thee. I have to tell tb.ee of a great joy." She made a little sound in answer, while rushing in upon her came the glad hope that the promise given her by the saint's pityingglance and smile was coming true. "My Techa, listen! The good God has had pity for our sorrow, and^the bar between us is broken down. A great wonder has happened, that has made me richer than thy father by a thousand fold. By God's grace I have found again the wonderful mine in the mountains that belonged to the Fathers back in the long-past time. lam rich, rich even beyond thought ; and richer than all, because now thou also wilt be mine." Then Juan told the story of the good fortune that had come to him. One corner of his dwelling-place in the old monastery — the corner in which was the little triangular fireplace — long had been in Ja ruinous state, promised at any time to fall. That day the fall had come, and from the broken wall had jiropped out a roll of tough hide, in which Were wrapped securely the lost plans of the ancient mine. Thus had they been hidden, by hands soon still in death, on that August day, two hundred years before, Avhen the Pueblos rose in revolt against their Spanish task-masters ; the visible agents of the avenging wrath of God. Yellow with age were the plans, pale the once black drafting, but still the plotting was distinct and clear : showing the site of the ,

monastery; showing the long-lost trail leading up beyond the arroyo of San Pedro^into the mountains; showing the mine itself, a league or more away, at the trail's end. To one knowing the country well, as Juan did, everything was clear. Over the mountainside, high up above the canon wherein the mine was sunk, he had driven his goats a hundred times. There was no uncertainty about his : la mina h los Padres was found, and was his ! With a quickly beating heart Techita listened to this wonderful story of good fortune ; and as she listened a great gladness filled her soul. It was only the wealth of Don Jose, she knew, that had made him seem pleasant in her father's eyes; Juan, with his incomparably greater wealth, need have no fears now that his suit would be rejected I Happiness enveloped her, for now at last her j happiness was sure. In perfect thankfulness she knelt again before the sweet Santa Clara's picture, drawing Juan also on his knees beside her; and there, with grateful thoughts, for their hearts were all too full for words, they gave praise silently for the great goodness which, through Santa Clara's intercession, had come to them from the merciful and loving God Yet, even as she thus knelt, fear and misgiving came into Techita's soul. Mingled with her Spanish blood was the blood of the Pueblo race, of the pagans whom her Christian ancestors had treated so cruelly in the time of old; and together with her Christian faith was, if not faith, at least a fearful reverence for the Pueblos' god. In dread she remembered now, in the under-current of thought below her thoughts of thankfulness and praise, the direful prophecy that upon whomsoever should find again the Mine of the Fathers the curse of the Pueblos' god would fall. Standing outside the door of the church, the young moon, just risen over the mount..ius in the east, shining faintly down upon them, Techita falteringly told her fears ; and Juan, full of gladness now that his long sorrow was at an end, laughed lightly and bade her fear no more. " We are good Christians, my Techa," he said, "and our valiant Groi and his brave saints watch over us. What need we fear from, this false god, who for ages has been dead and gone ?" But as thus irreverently he spoke, there fell upon him also a strange sense of dread; for he also had Pueblo faith deep down in his heart, because of the Pueblo blood which, flowed in his veins. By an effort he stirred himself and drove the dread away. In the faint light Techita did not mark the change that for a moment came over his face as he ceased to speak, and so had comfort from his cheerful words. It was indeed true, she thought, that the blessed baints were brave defenders against all evil powers; and she was well assured now that one of the saints at least —this gracious Santa Clara —had promised to them her potent aid. Therefore had she a firm foundation whereon to rest her faith and hope. Yet, as she walked slowly homeward, vague forbodings of coming sorrow forced themselves upon her; norljould slie, with all her faith in Santa Clara's helpfulness, with all her bright hopes of the happiness that was to come, wholly drive these dark thoughts away. * * *. # Dick Irving was puzzled. He believed, and with good reason, that what he did not know about prospecting was not worth the finding out. And yet it was a point in prospecting that was puzzling him now, and,, to use his own words, puzzling him "the worst kind." The knotty question that was too much for him was where a piece of " float" came from that he had found in the arroyo of San Pedro. When he had found that particular piece of l.bose rock, it had made his heart jump and his mouth water. In the course of his extended experience in prospecting, he never had come across anything that for richness came anywhere near it; it was richer than

the best of the Leadville carbonates, richer than the best of the ruby silver down in the Gunnison. On a rough calculation, he concluded that the vein where it came from would mill-run not less than a thousand ounces. If the vein had any body to it, that meant more millions than he could think of sit once without shivering. But the trouble that was the beginning of his prodigious find was also the end of it. The bit of float was like the foot-print on Robinson Crusoe's island; there it was, solitary—not a sign to tell whence it came and what it belonged to. He was certain that there was not any more of it, for he had spent nearly a month in the arroyo turning over carefully every stone, and running- his knowing eyes jealously along every crevice in its rocky walls. And now his mad was getting up. His reputation as a prospector was at stake. And more than this, he knew that close at hand, on the flanks of one of the two mountains which towered above Mru, was a mine 'vhich to find was to make his everlasting fortune; which to miss was to miss the great chance of his life, and the pleasing conviction was growing upon him more strongly every day that he was going to miss it. He knew, of course, that almost his only chance was to follow up the float; and that was the reason'why he had put in such thorough work upon the arroyo. When this failed him he took to the mountains themselves. It was a desperate chance, but it was the only chance left to him. He put in another barren month in this fashion, and then he was about ready to own himself beaten ; to own that for once he had Avalked all round and all over the mine that he was looking for without being able to make even a good guess as to where it was. Once, indeed, for a moment, he had felt hopeful. In a little canon, hard to enter because of a great wall formed across its mouth by jagged masses of rock which had fallen from 'the cliffs above, he came upon some surface rock that was identical with the bit of float th^.t he had found. The ledge was oddly broken about its middle by a heap of gray, weather-worn fragments of stone. He had never come upon a formation like this, and had he been a geologist he would have found a great deal in it to interest him. Being simply a prospector, he examined the ledge purely with an eye to business ; and from this point of view it was eminently unsatisfactory. There were, to be sure, traces of mineral, but not the least suggestion of the inexhaustible wealth that he knew must be in the rock to which his specimen belonged. Therefore, he kicked the ledge contemptuously, swore at his own illluck and stupidity with the mellow fluency that can be acquired only by long residence in mining camps, and so turned sullenly away. It would have strengthened Dick Irving's fast-lessening- faith in his own instinct as a prospector, however, had he known that it was the art of man and not a freak of nature that was leading him astray; had he known that-at the very moment when he was cursing his own stupidity la mina de los Padres was beneath his feet! Had he but tossed aside the piece of rock whereon he stood, he would have found —wasted by rust, but still recognizable —an old hammer-head from which the handle long since had moldered away; and so, to his quick intelligence, would have had proof enough that he had found the rich prize that he had sworn to find when lie came down into the South. # * *- # On the evening of the day after that on which Juan had told Techita of his great ■discovery, he came to her again in the church to tell her that all had gone well with him in his search in the mountains, and that in very truth he had found the long-lost mine. In glad proof of his words he showed her a rusty hammer-head that he had pulled out from beneath a rock in the mouth of the filled-in shaft — the very hammer-head that Dick Irving, for all his cleverness had failed to find. " God has been very good to us, my Techa," he said, as they stood again beneath the picture of the gentle Santa Clara in the soft darkness that was stealing down upon the dying day. " His mercy has come to us in our sorrow, and through the entreaty of the dear saint, Me has given us comfort in hope. All is well with us now. Thy father ■would indeed have refused thee to the goatherd Juan, but to Senor Don Juan, the owner of the Mine of the Fathers, lie will not say no. I shall have thee for my very own. my Techita; and for all our lives long, in our love and happiness, we will praise thankfully and worship reverently this sweet saint who lias taken from us our sorrow, and given us in its stead great joy. " And see, my little one," he added, lightly, after the had stood for a little space with hands clasped closely and eyes turnerl .gratefully upon the saint's face —" see ! I have found the mine, and-yet the curse has not fallen! There was only folly in thy fears, my little heart. The blessed saints are strong to stay and to save them who have faith in their holy goodness; strong to drive back the evil power of this false god, whom long ago they conquered and threw down." And again, as he spoke these daring words, Juan felt a shudder of dread go through him. 'For all .the bravery of his manliness, the thought would come : What if, in defiance of the-power for good.of. the, blessed saints, the power for evil of the Pueblos' god even yet lived on ?

Upon Techita's heart lay heavily this same dread ; nor was it greatly lightened by Juan's cheerfulness. Almost was she persuaded by her great love for him to bid him give up the treasure that he had found ; to suffer herself, a sacrifice, for her love's sake, to be wed in accordance with her father's will. Better even this great misery, she thought, than that harm should come to her lover. Thinking these doubting thoughts, she stood irresolute, her eyes turned questioningly upon Santa Clara's face ; and again, in the soft, faint light that shone upon it" the sweet face seemed to smile upon her a promise of protection that bade her trust and hope. Therefore she hushed the doubts which were in her heart, and listened welcomingly to Juan's glad promises of the joy which was to be. And in making these promises Juan also forgot the fears which had beset; him, and felt only a brave elation in the certainty of the happiness that had come to them from the good God. So, in the pale moonlight, they parted again, having in the brightness of their future a full and joyous faith. Yet, in despite of this faith, through the long darkness of the night Techita, waking, was oppressed by dread; and in her sleep there came to her fearful dreams. And in waking and in sleeping the thought that possessed her was that out of the very fulness of her happiness a desolating irremediable sorrow was to come. Nor did the brightness of th.3 sunshine, when at last day came again, chase away her dark forebodings. A great heaviness lay upon her soul ; a dreary belief weighed upon her that the sorrow which was surely coming was very near at hand. Nor could she doubt that whatever this sorrow was to be, it must come to her through Juan. As she knew, Juan had gone once more into the mountains, along the way that he had told her of, to the old mine. Had he been in the village, or working in the near-by fields, she would have braved her father's displeasure and gone to him — so keen was her deep consciousness that a malignant power was loosed to do him harm. Slowly the day wore on, each hour in passing adding to her restlessness and nervous dread. And at last, when the still time of noon was come, and all the town was hushed in sleep, she no longer could restrain the impulse that was upon her to go to him ; to brave with him whatever was the danger ; to defend him living ; to lie down and die beside him should he be dead. Out from the silent house, out from the sleeping village, up the rock-strewn arroyo of San Pedro, Techita walked firmly ; in her heart a great daring born of her greater love. (Concluded in our next.)