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

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It took no small amount of daring to fool about that mysterious black hole. Dewey, ever merry and teasing, was keeping them all on pins and needles by being ceaselessly reminded of grisly yarns. He told of a cave that was full of rattlesnakes, “assorted sizes, all genuine and no two alike, b’gee!” Of another that had been a robber’s den with great red-faced, furious, black villains in it, to say nothing of gleaming daggers. Of another, with pitfalls, with water in them and no bottom, “though why the water didn’t leak out of where the bottom wasn’t, b’gee, I’m not able to say.”

It got to be very monotonous by and by, standing about in idleness and curiosity, peeping and wondering what was inside.

“I think it would be a good idea for some one to go in and find out,” suggested Mark.

“Bless my soul!” gasped Indian. “I won’t, for one.”

“And I for two, b’gee!” said Dewey, with especial emphasis.

The rest were just as hasty to decline. One look at that black hole was enough to deter any one. But Mark, getting more and more impatient at the delay, more and more resolved to end that mystery, was slowly making up his mind that he was not going to be deterred. And suddenly he stepped forward.