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

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Mark himself was by no means as cool as he seemed. He had made up his mind to explore the cave, and he meant to do it, but he chose to hurry all the same. He stepped quickly forward, peering anxiously into the shadows as he did so. And a moment later his hand was upon the door knob.

He shook it vigorously, but found that it was firmly set. It reminded him of the door of a safe, for it had a solid, heavy “feel,” and it closed with a spring lock, having no key. Mark noticed that as he was debating with himself whether or not to open it; and then suddenly he gave the knob a mighty wrench and pulled with all his might upon the door.

The knob was rusty, and so were the complicated hinges. The door finally gave way, however, with a creak that was dismal and suggestive. The others shrank back instinctively as the black space it disclosed yawned in front of them.

Mark’s heart was beating furiously as he glanced around to peer in. A musty, close odor caught his attention, and then as the faint light made its way in, he saw that beyond was still another compartment, seemingly blacker, and certainly more mysterious than the first. But Mark hesitated not a moment; he had made up his mind to enter and he did. Texas, who was at his back, taking hold of the door to hold it.