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

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“I’m quite used to getting permits to visit here,” laughed Mark. “I think I’ll order them by the wholesale soon, that is if Miss Fuller stays much longer.

“I’ll bet,” Mark added, whispering to the girl, as he noticed the Parson edging off. “I’ll bet I can make him break a rule and come up here.”

“How?” inquired the girl.

“Parson! Oh, Parson!” cried Mark. “Come up here!”

“Tempt me not!” protested Stanard. “The danger is great and——”

“I’ve got a fossil to show you,” called the other.

The Parson stared incredulously for a moment at the object Mark held up. He suspected a ruse. But no, it was a fossil! And oblivious to duty, danger, demerits and all the rest of the universe, he gave a leap, dashed up the stairs, and fairly pounced upon the two.

“A fossil!” he cried. “By the immortal gods, a fossil! Yea, by Zeus, let me see it.”

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The Parson seemed about ready to devour that “fossil.” He seized it and plumped himself down in a chair with a thud. He paused just long enough to deposit his “Dana” upon the floor, and to draw up his learned trousers to the high-water mark, disclosing his pale, sea-green socks. And then with a preliminary “Ahem!” and several blinks he raised the precious relic and stared at it.