Читать книгу A West Point Treasure; Or, Mark Mallory's Strange Find онлайн

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The six sighed.

“It is my purpose,” continued the Parson, blinking solemnly as any wise old owl, “to admire the beauties of the scenery, and also to conduct a little cursory geological investigation in order to——”

“Say,” interrupted Texas.

“Well?” inquired the Parson.

“D’you mean you’re a-goin’ to take a walk?”

“Er—yes,” said the Parson, “that is——”

“Let’s all go,” interrupted Texas. “I’d like to see some o’ that there geologizin’ o’ yourn.”

“I shall be delighted to extend you an invitation,” said the other, cordially.

And thus it happened that the Banded Seven took a walk back in the mountains that Saturday afternoon. That walk was the most momentous walk that those lads ever had occasion to take.

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It was a strangely accoutered cavalcade that set out from this West Point camp an hour or so later. The Parson, as guide and temporary chief, led the way, having his beloved “Dana’s Geology” under his arms, and bearing in one hand an “astrology” hammer (as Texas termed it), in the other a capacious bag in which he purposed to carry any interesting specimens he chanced to find. The Parson had brought with him to West Point his professional coat, with huge pockets for that purpose, but being a cadet he was not allowed to wear it.