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

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“I wonder if there’s room for a man to get in,” Mark added.

“Ef there ain’t,” suggested Texas, “we kin force Indian through to make it bigger.”

Indian shrank back in horror.

“Ooo!” he cried. “I wouldn’t go near it for a fortune. Bless my soul, there may be bears or snakes.”

This last suggestion made Dewey, who was then peeping in, drop down in a hurry.

“B’gee!” he gasped. “I hadn’t thought of that. And who knows but what a live Megatherium preserved from the tertiary periods may come roaring out?”

“I wish we had a light,” said Mark. “Then we might look in and see. I wonder if we couldn’t burn that book the Parson has?”

The Parson hugged his beloved “Dana’s Geology” in alarm.

“Gentlemen,” he said, severely, “I would rather you burned me than this book.”

“B’gee!” cried Dewey. “You’re most as dry! But a fellow couldn’t find a match for you, Parson, if he hunted from now till doomsday.”

Parson Stanard turned away with the grieved look he always wore when people got “frivolous.” But that mood did not last long; they were all too excited in their strange find to continue joking. They spent half an hour after that peering in cautiously and seeing nothing but blackness. Texas even had the nerve to stick one arm in, at which the rest cried out in horror. Indian’s direful hint of snakes or bears had its effect.