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

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“Yea, by Zeus!” said the Parson, emphatically. “And I mean not only geologically, but in any other way whatsoever, logically or illogically.”

Mark chuckled softly to himself at that.

“I’ll try it some day,” he said. “I’ll give you a chance to forget it meanwhile.”

He said nothing more about it then, and a minute or so later the Parson arose to go.

“Ahem!” said he. “Gentlemen—er—that is—ladies—I bid you good-afternoon. I really fear to incur further risk by yielding to the charms of the siren’s voice. Farewell!”

Mark and the girl sat in silence and watched his ungainly figure stride away down the path; and suddenly she fell to laughing merrily.

“The Parson’s dignity is insulted,” she said. “He is getting bold and defiant.”

“And I see room for no end of fun just there,” responded Mark. “I had an inspiration a few moments ago, watching him. And I have a perfectly fascinating plot already.”

“Do you mean,” inquired Grace, “that you are going to take his challenge up so soon?”

“That’s just what I do,” laughed Mark. “I mean to do it this very night, before he’s expecting it.”