“Time all honest folks were in bed,” said Mr. De Vere. “What have you young people been doing all the evening?”
“I have been listening to some very interesting events in the history of this town,” Hernando replied.
“Our ancestors were firm believers in special dispensations of Providence,” said Mr. De Vere.
“And their intercession met with favor,” replied Mr. Genung.
“Strange!” said Hernando musingly, “that no trace of ‘Old Ninety-Nine’s’ cave has ever been discovered. His history sounds like a fairy tale.”
“Which I verily believe it is,” laughed Mr. De Vere. “Aside from those in the limestone district, there are no true caves in the Shawangunk Mountains intersected as they are with metalliferous veins.”
“Do you consider the story of the mine apocryphal?”
“I regard it as simply a local tradition. Instead of a Captain Kidd or some other pirate, we, on this side of the mountains, have an equally romantic hero in ‘Old Ninety-Nine.’ Benny Depuy, however, is well remembered by some of the old residents of this town, was a weaver by trade, and had an imagination as vivid as the colors he wove. His house, a quaint specimen of the architecture of pioneer days when each home was a veritable fort for protection against Indian outbreak, is still in a good state of preservation. Benny claims that ‘Old Ninety-Nine’ frequently stopped there. According to tradition, the Indian was a “Medicine man”; knew the properties of every medicinal root and herb and effected some wonderful cures. He is said to have spoken Spanish, coined Spanish money in his cave, and gone to the West Indies to dispose of it, where it was believed he had a white wife. But an Indian, were he ever so friendly to the whites, never divulged the location of mines. Thirst for revenge is the most deeply seated trait in the savage breast, and for this reason Benny kept his adventure a secret for many years. He never visited the cave but that once, and not long afterward ‘Old Ninety-Nine’ disappeared. Some supposed that he died of old age, others that in clambering over the dangerous crevices he had fallen into one of them and been killed. When Benny felt that all danger from Indian vengeance was passed, he searched repeatedly and in every direction for the cave but never succeeded in finding it, so concluded that a fallen rock must have closed its entrance.” And with a shrug Mr. De Vere turned to reply to a question of Mr. Genung’s.
Hernando strolled to the window; the night was one of Egyptian darkness but eastward, up the mountain side and nearly to the summit, a bright light, like the flame of a candle, burned steadily. To assure himself that it was no illusion or trick of the imagination, he watched it carefully for several minutes. “What can it be?” he thought. There was no possibility of reflection and no smoke. “Perhaps a belated prospecting party or a signal of distress,” he reasoned, at the same time opening the window.
“What now!” called Mr. Genung, stepping beside his nephew.