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

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Mark interrupted himself here long enough to indulge in a little silent laughter, and then he went on.

“Well, the Parson took it seriously. He put on his most learned air, and looked it up in ‘Dana,’ his beloved geological text-book. ‘Eighteen in front and seven behind? The rear ones must be molars. Probably, then, it was a Palæothere, but they were extinct before primæval man appears. And it couldn’t be one of the Zenglodons, and surely not a Plesiosaurus. Oh, yes! Why, of course, it must be an Ichthyornis!’ And the Parson was smiles all over. ‘How stupid of that geologist not to have guessed it! An Ichthyornis!’ But then Dewey said no, it wasn’t. ‘Then what is it?’ cried the Parson.”

“And what did he say?” laughed Grace.

“He said it was a ’97 model, seventy-two gear, and the rider had coasted down the hill on it. The teeth weren’t molars, they were sprockets. Somebody yelled ‘Bicycle!’ and the Parson wouldn’t speak to him all day.”

The girl’s merry laughter over the story was pleasant to hear; it was a great deal more pleasant to Mark than the original incident had been.