CHAPTER I. A MOUNTAIN HERMIT.

Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 154, 15 May 1886, Page 5

CHAPTER I. A MOUNTAIN HER MIT.

Willowemoo is one of the most picturesque villages in all that picturesque region to the • west of the Hudson, just above that point where the Highlands come down to the river, It is perched on the side cf a spur of the Blue Mountains, and from the crest of this spur the lordly Hudson can be seen, away to the eastward, winding and flashing through the green hills on its way to the eea. To the north the Catskill mountains loom np in purple billows ; and, on clear days, many cf the great hotels and summer-houses in that charming region can be seen from the cottage gardens of Willowmeoc. It is a sleepy, quiet village, that seems to have permanently retired from the hum and turmoil of the busy world, though a ruined grist mill by the stream down in the valley suggests a life of recent activity. The houses and gardens bordering the single street are quaint and well-kept, leading the traveller to infer that the occupants are well-to-do, and reminding him of Old World hamlets, where Time seems to have come to a stand-still and life is spent in a placid monotony. Even that gossip — called " idle " because it is ever busy— which serves to keep the tongues and tempers of most villagers conBtantly active, was unknown in Willowemoc. The people were too self respecting to whisper falsehood, or even to talk unpleasant truths, if there wero any deserving centure ; and so the place knew nothing of that '* armed truce" that distinguishes village society the world over. But if Wiilovremoc had been destined to continue in a state of prosaic quiet, this etory would never have been written. Miles away from the village, in the nearly inaccessible depth of the western mountains, there lived a man, an occasional visitor at Willowemoc, who, being different in his appearance and manners from any one else thereabouts, was an object of great and constant curiosity. He was a tall, dignified person, with long iron-grey hair and beard. He dressed somewhat after the style of the old time hunter, but beyond a reticence of manner that precluded anything like familiarity, there was nothing in hia conduct to indicate that hi 3 mind was not well balanced. He was known, far ard wide, as "The Blue Mountain Hermit," though people who addressed him directly called him "The Jooke." A few very precise people imagined that this was a title of nobility the man had assumed, and so called him " Duke," without any prefix or affix. A few venturesome people had visited "The Hermit's Glen," as they chose to call the home of this remarkable man. * It was represented as a romantic nook in the mountain depths, where wild flowers bloomed in profusion through all the summer months, and the mountain trout still flashed through the clear brooks, unvexed by the rod of the wandering sportsman. The Jooke lived all alone. His rambling lo* cabin waa hidden by vine 3 and surrounded by a well-kept garden. In the garden there were score 3 of carefully tended beehives, the honey and wax from which were an important source of revenue to their eccentric owner. Three or four times a year The Jooke appeared before the principal store in Willowe moe, leading a horse and carrying an oldfashioned rifle over his shoulder. The horse was always laden with honey and wax, and the rifle was loaded with a home-made bullet; bur, as all the large game had long since been driven from the bills, and going armed for self-protection had become obsolete, the weapon seemed entirely out of place. Summer visitors, like lost birds of pasgage, occasionally stopped for a few days at the little tavern in Willowemoc. But their coming and going, though tending to disturb the customary calm, never created the excitement caused by the coming and going of The Jooke. One day, in mid June, the villagers were greatly surprised at seeing The Jooke striding down the hill a ithout his horse. He carried his gun at his back from force of habit, but it was evident to all who saw him that no routine business brought him to Willowemoc at this time. It chanced that the weekly mail was being distributed at the post-office when The Jooke arrived. The man who carried the mail from the railroad station, thirteen miles away, always blew a horn when be came within sight of the village, whereupon every resident, who had not lost all interest in the great outside world, hurried down to the post-office to learn the news. The crowds before the store and| inside, where the poet-oifice \va3 kept, were ab sorbed in their letters and papers when the Jooke appeared in their midst. There was a strange light in his dark eyes as he pointed to the mountains, from j which he had come, and said, in a deep, cultured voice : " A murder has been done over there !" " A murder !" came with a gasp from the alarmed people, who with one impu'ee turned in the direction indicated by the man's extended arm. " Aye, a murder and a foul one," continued the Jooke. " Back there in the hills a mountain tourist has been done to death by the dagger of an assassin." With pallid faces the people loaked at each other, dreading to ask who the murdered man was, and wondering if the cruel deed had been done by one in their own sudst. Ur Berisford, a stately man, with white hair and beard, and a most benevolent expression of face, came out of the store, with bia beautiful daughter Miriam, and learning the cause of the excitement, he addressed The Jooke : * c ~My friend, are you quite sure about what you say ?" •* Do I look like a man who would lie?" aeked The Jooke, drawing himself proudly up. " Certainly not, my friend, "returned Dr. Berisford, " and it was not my purpose to intimate anything of the kind; but I thought, perhaps, that you only heard this—" 11 Heard it I" interrupted The Jooke. " Why, the man lay dead in my pathway, with his white face turned up to the sky And a crimson stain above his heart." " How far from here is the body ?" " About a mile." "Did yon ever see the man before?" asked the doctor. ••Never." _ .. ' . " Js the man old or young f*

"In* the very flower of his manhood, Ishould say." "Does his dreea indicate that ho was a gentleman ?', "The dress," replied TheJooke, with a, touch of saroasm in hia voice, "may mdi, cato wealth or taete j but to me, at least dress is never the infallible sign of the gentleman." "Pardon me," said the benevolent old doctor, "you are quite right. I should have said, 'could you infer the man's position in life from his dress ?' " " That would be hard to do in a land where the servant delights to drees more expensively than his master. But I paid no heed to the dress ; I saw only the closed eyes, the white face and the blood on the breast. See the man. Bring him to the village and call the officers of the law to look at him before you consign him to the grave, for there ha 3 been foul work done up there, and the guilty should be found and punished." The Jooke turned and took n dozen strides up the road, when Dr. Berisford called after him : u Wait, Mr Duke ; you must guide us to the place." u Follow the road up the hill till it ends in the mountain trail, then follow the trail till you reach the Hanging Rock ; in its shadow you will find the dead man," This The Jooke shouted back, then resumed his journey. As if fascinated, the people watched the bearer of this awful news till he was out of eight, Then, at the doctor's suggestion, team and wagon were brought from his own stables, and in company with six very nervous villagers, he Etarted off to find the murdered man. There was a pretty general belief, in and ~.joufc Willowemoc, that The Jooke'a mind was out of balance ; and the men who accompanied Dr. Berisford tried to comfort themselves with the beliof that the murdered man had no existence outside the disordered brain of their informant. Thi3 hope had but a short life. The waggon was loft at tho end of the road, in charge of Hans Munn, tho doctor's coachman, whilo the others went down the path, carrying between them an extemporised stretcher, for which all hoped they might find no use. They came under the shadow of the Hangingßock, and there, right before them, lay the dead man. It needed only a glance at the breast to show ihat the man had come to a violent end, either by his own hand or at the hands of another. ft My friend?," said the doctor, addressing his companion?, " we must take this body to the village and summon tho coroner. But before doing so let each one of us examine the ground to see if a struggle occurred, or if the weapon with which the deed was committed can be found." Acting^on this request, the men looked carefully over the ground ; but they caw no sign of a struggle, nor did all their searching leveal tho weapon with which the deed was committed. Dr. Berisford opened the tweed vest and flannel shirt, and revealed a wound directly over the heart. It was not an ordinary knife thrust - this the doctor's practised eye saw at a glance — bub was made by a three-cornered instrument-, s-haped somewhat like a bayonet, with this difference, that all the edges were keen as a razor. ".Never saw a cut like that before," ?aid one of the party, who had been a soldier in the war. " It should give a clue to the murderer," said another. " This ia cortainly very remarkable," said Dr. Berisford, after a critical examination of the wound. " There is only one kind of instrument in the world that could have done this work, and I did not think there was one in America." "Wbati3 that, Doctor?" asked a neighbour. "The angular kresso use 1 by the Thugs in India," Mas the doctor's reply.