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

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It was left to the all-wise Parson to discover what this meant. The Parson picked up one of the dies he saw upon the table. He gazed at it curiously, blowing away the dust and cleaning the metal. Then, muttering to himself excitedly, he stepped over to one side of the cave where soft clay was on the floor, and seizing some, pressed it into the mold. He held it before his horrified companions, a perfect image of the United States half dollar; and he spoke but two words of explanation.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “counterfeiters!”

The amount of excitement which that caused may be readily imagined. A counterfeiter’s den! And they were in it! Texas clutched his revolver the tighter and stared about him warily. As for poor Indian, he simply sat down upon the floor and collapsed.

“Fellows,” said Mark at last. “I say we finish examining this place and get out. I don’t like it.”

None of them did, and they did not hesitate to say so, either. Nothing but curiosity, and the fact that they were ashamed to show their fear, kept them from running for all they were worth. As it was, their advance was timid and hesitating.