ROBERT MORRISS: CANNIBAL SLAYER

He just couldn't believe his luck in finding the perfect location for his "X".
At the edge of his 4 mile circle from Buford's was a Piggly Wiggly grocery store.
The professor chuckled at the thought of all those Beale researchers connecting the genealogy of that grocery chains founder's relation to under whose home and care Robert Morriss lived when he told the Beale treasure story to the "unknown author".
That alone would be solid proof that the Beale treasure was real.
Time for another cold Beale Gold.
 

In the teachers lounge, Mr Poe lit a KOOL 100 for a quick smoke break between classes, and read the current email from the professor.
So the professor had a diary and a map!
He couldn't wait to post that information on the BEALE TREASURE website to dispel those members who claimed it was a hoax, a dime novel, and whatever non believing nonsense that they posted.
The bell rang for the next class, and stubbing out his half smoked Kool in the ashtray, he departed the teacher's lounge for his next class, his thread posting would just have to wait.
On the bright side, young Jack was in this class.
Mr Poe pondered telling Jack about the diary and map.
 

FIRST... "Ve must order Bar-B-Q from Beale's Brewery, and await THE FOG at the Peaks of Otter" said the German Professor, as the Raven & 3 crows jumped up & down in agreement... :laughing7:
 

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Rufus, the Dreaming Creek troll had a long history of chasing those who entered his domain searching for the old Risqué Hunters Hill Plantation. During his many years he scared the local children, always a favorite pastime especially the teenage couples, hunters with metal detectors, and some British musicians who had been roughed up at a local Lynchburg bar.
Rufus let loose a laugh like a freight train remembering those Limeys- the tall one screaming like a girl about getting off a cloud as he ran.
His acute hearing picked up the sound of someone approaching, and crouched down behind a stand of poplars, waiting patiently to leap into action.
 

Rebel - KGC said:
the Raven & 3 crows jumped up & down
Click to expand...
Mr Poe entered the wood of Dreaming Creek, confident that he could find the location of Risque's Hunters Hill Plantation.
The raven and three crows stopped jumping on the branch as they silently observed the stranger walk towards Rufus's hiding place. They have seen this many time, knew the outcome- it was worth a good caw and cackle wing flap.
Anticipation grew as the man walked closer to Rufus.
 

The teacher proceeded down the path, one foot in front of the other, sure he would find evidence of Risque's Hunters Hill Plantation. Maybe, just maybe, this could lead him to the Beale cipher "key" letter that was never received.
He was lost in thought, stringing cipher thoughts like Gilogly when Rufus sprang forth.
Mr Poe screamed like a little schoolgirl as he turned running, forgetting his quest and automobile, crying wee, wee, wee all the way home, which was over the hills and far away.
The three crows and raven cackled in amusement, giving Rufus the approving one wing up.
 

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"You left your car where", inquired the professor, trying hard to suppress a chuckle?
"On a side road leading to Dreaming Creek".
"and why did you do that"?
Breathlessly replying, " I was chased by a monster, a troll like being that must be guarding the Beale treasure".
"Trolls have been known to guard treasures. Virginia would be no different"
"But My car! I need it! Will you drive back to retrieve it?"
 

Rufus, the DC Troll, was at the wheel of the car, being chased by L'burg, Va. "finest", the Lynchburg Police Department, as the radio "crackled", "Car 54, what's your 20?" Rt. 501, "the Expressway", will lead to Natural Bridge... and across SEVERAL police/county jurisdictions...
 

Crossing the Hyco River and approaching Cluster Springs, the professor and Mr Poe heard the wail of many sirens.
In the distance, they could several flashing light atop various law enforcement vehicles chasing an obvious speeding car.
As the fast and furious loud sirens and colored strobe lights approached them in the other lane, Poe could not believe what he saw.
"THAT'S MY CAR"!
 

Somehow Rufus was able to elude his pursuers, and abandoned the teacher Poe's car on Ward Road outside of Danville.
Recovering his automobile days later, he saw written on the hood in red spray paint-"TROLL LIVES MATTER".
The professor pointed to the street sign, remarking in his all knowing lecturing voice, "Ward Road, it appears this troll was a sentinel and guide us here for a reason".
"I just hope my car starts and hasn't been damaged, I still have 23 payments left", whined the teacher.
 

Back at Dreaming Creek, Rufus laughed and laughed remembering his last adventure- driving that motorized wagon, being chased, was all great fun. He settled into his burrow, tomorrow was going to be another day to see when it would bring.
 

Delbert Drywell was at his wits end. With all his research from old newspapers, deeds, family genealogies, and even rumors , he still had no absolute proof the Beale and his perilous adventure treasure ever really happened beyond the imagination of this unnamed author.
He reread the Beale Papers again and again, settling finally the line that jumped out at him- "It was during the 2nd year of the Confederate War".
How had he missed the significance of that. It all became clear, Ward's copyrighted job print pamphlet was a cover story for either the lost Confederate treasury or most likely, KGC Depositories.
 

ECS said:
Tree whisperer, Delbert Drywell had a rough day ...
Click to expand...
On his drive to Danville, he had two flat tires on his vintage Gremlin and had to call for roadway assistance. TWICE!
Drywell was still grumbling about being taking advantaged by that garage he called for help on his Cricket big button phone.
Fifty dollars for a used tire to replace the worn out spare he shredded, plus another fifty for the tow to the garage.
Finally arriving at his cemetery destination in Danville, he observed someone talking to the tree that he drove all the here to talk to.
Whomever it was, the man appeared to be dressed in hillbilly garb, and was oblivious to Drywell cold hard "if looks could kill" stare.
 

The raven and three crows settled on an overhanging branch above the man as he turned, noticing Drywell's glare.
"Can I help you" , he inquired?
You're talking to my tree", Drywell snapped
"What", exclaimed the man, now clutching his notebook close to his chest.
"My tree, my tree", shouting as a vein throbbed on his forehead." I have been talking to that tree for several years".
"Well, the tree is now talking to me and has revealed several KGC depository locations that line up with the 8-sided gazebo over there".
"I already knew that", Drywell replied as he sauntered away.
 

In addition in jumping out and scaring those who ventured along Dreaming Creek, Rufus the troll liked to carve turtles on trees and create recovery excavations with empty champagne bottles lying about, and many times leaving an old coin or two.
That always drew the Beale groupies, more so than the KGC crowd. Placed in the right Virginia location, Rufus's seeded holes were well worth a book or two, and he chuckled, remembering that Gremlin driver who came upon his seeded site, and dug, and dug, and dug.
That was better than the butter topo maps he deposited near the Blackhorse Inn during the post war '40's.
 

Sitting in his well worn LAZY BOY recliner sipping a RC Cola and eating a Moon Pie, Drywell punched his remote to a treasure program.
On the television screen was that hillbilly attired man explaining the KGC carved symbols on a talking tree in the Danville cemetery.
Turning up the volume, Drywell could not believe all the wrong information that was being said, and let out a laugh like an old steam train on a roundabout.
Not only was the information wrong, hillbilly man was talking to the wrong tree!
Watching that program was like being a teacher watching children playing blindman's bluff with all the children wearing blindfolds.
After taking a bite of Moon Pie, he washed away the program with a long pull of RC Cola.
 

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