Caxton's Book: A Collection of Essays, Poems, Tales, and Sketches.Rhodes, W. H. (William Henry)
Science
Caxton's Book: A Collection of Essays, Poems, Tales, and Sketches.
Rhodes, W. H. (William Henry)
Science fiction
The body was lying upon its back, with the face upwards. The
vultures had despoiled the countenance of every vestige of
flesh, and left the sockets of the eyes empty. Snow and ice
and rain had done their work effectually upon the exposed
surfaces of his clothing, and the eagles had feasted upon the
entrails. But underneath, the thick beaver cloth had served to
protect the flesh, and there were some decaying shreds left of
what had once been the terrible but accomplished Gregory
Summerfield. A glance told us all these things. But they did
not interest me so much as another spectacle, that almost
froze my blood. In the skeleton gripe of the right hand,
interlaced within the clenched bones, gleamed the wide-mouthed
vial which was the object of our mutual visit. Graham fell
upon his knees, and attempted to withdraw the prize from the
grasp of its dead possessor. But the bones were firm, and when
he finally succeeded in securing the bottle, by a sudden
wrench, I heard the skeleton fingers snap like pipe-stems.
"Hold this a moment, whilst I search the pockets," he
commanded.
I did as directed.
He then turned over the corpse, and thrusting his hand into
the inner breast-pocket, dragged out a roll of MSS., matted
closely together and stained by the winter's rains. A further
search eventuated in finding a roll of small gold coin, a set
of deringer pistols, a mated double-edged dirk, and a pair of
silver-mounted spectacles. Hastily covering over the body with
leaves and branches cut from the embowering shrubs, we
shudderingly left the spot.
We slowly descended the gorge toward the banks of the American
River, until we arrived in a small but sequestered thicket,
where we threw ourselves upon the ground. Neither had spoken a
word since we left the scene above described. Graham was the
first to break the silence which to me had become oppressive.
"Let us examine the vial and see if the contents are safe."
I drew it forth from my pocket and handed it to him.
"Sealed hermetically, and perfectly secure," he added. Saying
this he deliberately wrapped it up in a handkerchief and
placed it in his bosom.
"What shall we do with our prize?" I inquired.
"_Our_ prize?" As he said this he laughed derisively, and cut
a most scornful and threatening glance toward me.
"Yes," I rejoined firmly; "_our_ prize!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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