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

35 страница из 48

“It is perfectly terrible!” gasped the girl, her cheeks pale. “I don’t see how you will ever dare go into the place again.”

“It is a big temptation,” laughed Mark. “You see if the cadets continue to try unfair tactics in their efforts to haze us poor unfortunate plebes we can scare some of them into submission up there. And besides, our learned Boston friend, Parson Stanard, has gotten the gold fever. He vows he’s going on a treasure hunt in that cave.”

“A treasure hunt!”

“Yes. You see it’s probable those men had some money, to say nothing of all the bad money they made. And it’ll be a case of ‘finding’s keepings.’”

“I see,” said Grace, thoughtfully. And then suddenly she broke into one of her merry, ringing laughs, that compelled Mark to join.

“I think the Parson’s such a queer old chap!” she cried. “Isn’t he comical? He’s so solemn and learned. I can just imagine him prying all about that cave, the same way he does for his fossils.”

“I never shall forget the day I first met the Parson,” responded Mark. “It was when we were just getting up the Banded Seven to try to stop the hazing. The yearlings had tied his long, bony frame in a sack. He had gotten out and chased the whole crowd of them about the parade ground. And he came into my room in barracks perfectly furious with indignation. Yea, by Zeus!”