AN UNEXPECTED RESULT.
The walk through that mountain forest was one to be remembered for some
time. In the first place, the Parson had been provident enough to fee
a drum orderly to steal him a spade and hide it. The Parson insisted
upon carrying that spade himself, for that was what the old man had
said. And the Parson was careful to carry it upon his shoulder, too.
It was surprising how superstitious he had suddenly become; during the
dismal trip he enlivened them by a classic discussion of the scientific
evidence for and against ghosts, goblins, and magic.
“But, gentlemen,” he said solemnly, “one such experience as this of
mine convinces a man more than ten thousand arguments, yea, by Zeus!”
Here Texas went into a roar of laughter, which fortunately wound up in
a coughing fit and so excited no suspicions.
Did you ever try to walk through a black woods at night--a really dark
night? Rocks and logs seem just built to catch your shins; bushes and
cobwebs for your eyes. And every one in the party vows that the way
they ought to go is off there. The six wandered about desperately, time
fairly flying and the excited guide and treasure hunter getting more
and more fearful lest the hour should have passed.
It seemed almost by a miracle that they finally reached the cliff
in which lay the cave. The entrance was a bush-covered hole in the
rocks some ten feet from the ground. The Parson lost not a moment in
clambering up and getting in, for he was in a hurry.
The five others, still chuckling joyfully over the success of their
deception, followed him in one after another. The party had plenty of
matches and candles provided this time, and so one of the lamps in the
uncanny place was soon lighted, and then they were ready for work.
The Parson, businesslike and solemn, hauled out his watch.
“Three minutes,” he said. “Just in time.”
He passed the watch to Mark without another word. Mark held it in his
hand to give the signal and the Parson whipped off his coat and seized
the shovel with a desperate grip.
“You’ll have to cut the carpet,” said one of them.
The Parson had thought of that; he hauled a huge clasp knife from under
his jacket. Mark considered it a shame to spoil the place that way, and
for a moment he thought of telling and stopping the fun. But by that
time the thoroughly excited geologist was down on his knees carving out
a slice.
He had lit the lamp, according to the directions. Its shadow, of
course, fell right underneath, and there the Parson was about to work.
There was a strange scene at that moment, if any one had been there
to see it. First there was the mysterious dimly-lit cave; underneath
the solitary light stood the excited figure of the long-haired Boston
genius, his eyes glittering, his hand trembling. He clutched the spade
with determination, and gazed anxiously at Mark, like a racer awaiting
the signal. The five others were standing about him, winking at each
other slyly, and egging the Parson merrily on. Oh, how they did mean to
make him dig!
It was a solemn moment for the Parson. To say nothing of the treasure
he meant to find there was his scientific interest in the experiment,
testing the old “wizard’s” learning. Then suddenly Mark Mallory looked
up.
“Now!” said he.
And the Parson jammed his spade into the ground the same instant. The
great treasure hunt had begun.
Fairly bubbling over with fun, the conspirators gathered about him,
stooping down and staring anxiously, jumping about and exclaiming
excitedly, and above all urging the workman to still greater haste.
“Dig! Dig!” they cried.
And you can rest assured the Parson did dig! His long bony arms were
flying like a machine. Beads of perspiration gathered on his classic
brow; his breath came in gasps that choked off his numerous learned
exclamations. And yet he kept on, flinging the dirt in showers about
the room until the place began to look as if a sandstorm had struck it.
The Parson was working as never had a parson worked before.
The others gave him little chance to rest, either; they kept up his
frenzy of excitement by every means they could think of. But such
working as that was bound to end soon, for even geological muscles
can’t stand everything. In this case the end came of its own accord,
for the simple reason that the hole got too deep. In his wild
excitement Stanard had dug only a narrow one; and by and by he got
down so far that he could barely reach the bottom with the end of his
shovel. Then he stopped.
“By Zeus!” he gasped, “Gentlemen, this is--outrageous!”
“A shame!” cried Mark. “What are we going to do? Hurry up, it’s away
after midnight.”
The Parson gazed around him wildly; he was as anxious to hurry as any
one, but he didn’t know what to hurry at.
“Wow!” growled Texas. “Why don’t you fellers hurry up thar? Whar’s that
air treasure? Did you bring me ‘way out hyar to git nothin’?”
This and dozens of similar remarks got the Parson very much discouraged
and disgusted indeed.
“Gentlemen!” he protested, “I cannot help it, I really cannot! I swear
to you by all the inhabitants of Tartæus that if I knew what to do I
should do it with all possible celerity. But what----”
“I don’t believe there’s any treasure there,” growled Texas. “It’s all
a fake.”
“That’s what I say, too, b’gee!” cried Dewey. “I just believe the
Parson wanted to show us he knew how to dig graves. I wish I were
asleep in my tent! Reminds me of a story I once heard, b’gee----”
“Don’t tell us any stories,” exclaimed Mark with feigned anger. “The
Parson has told us enough for one night. This is outrageous.”
The poor Parson had sunk into a chair in exhaustion and resignation.
Evidently there was no more fun to be gotten out of him, Mark thought,
and was about to propose returning to camp, when suddenly another idea
flashed across him.
“Jove!” he exclaimed, excitedly. “I didn’t think of that!”
The Parson sprang up again with a sudden renewal of interest and life.
“What is it?” he cried. “What is it?”
“I’ve got an idea!” shouted Mark. “Ye gods! Why didn’t I think of that
before. I know why we haven’t found the treasure!”
The Parson’s excitement was genuine; the others joined in with his
exclamations to keep up the effect.
“What is it?” they cried, yet more loudly.
“Did that wizard tell you to light the lamp?” Mark demanded of the
Parson.
“N--no,” stammered the other, obviously puzzled, “but how else could it
have a shadow?”
For an answer Mark sprang forward and extinguished the lamp. Then he
turned and cried triumphantly:
“Look!”
In the partial darkness the light of the moon, coming in through the
hole, alone was visible. It struck the lamp right full and cast a deep
black shadow over in one corner of the cave, close to the wall.
“Ha!” exclaimed Mark dramatically. “There’s the spot!”
“B’gee!” cried Dewey, falling in with the scheme. “So it is! And that’s
why he told you to dig at midnight, b’gee!”
Already the Parson had seized his spade and made a regular kangaroo
leap for the place. Before his hilarious comrades could even start to
follow he had broken ground once more and was flinging the dirt about
with even more reckless eagerness.
“Go it, go it!” roared the rest.
The crowd gathered about him in a circle, clapping their hands, dancing
about, and shouting like “rooters” at a baseball game in the oft-quoted
case of “the ninth inning, two out, score a tie,” etc. And never did a
batter “lam her out” with more vigor than the treasure-hunting scholar
“lammed her” into that ground.
They reached the two-foot mark, and then began the same trouble of
inability to reach the bottom.
“Better make it bigger, b’gee,” laughed Dewey. “Don’t give up. If it
don’t work this time, b’gee, we’ll light every other lamp in the place
and try their shadows. And then----”
And then with an exclamation of excitement the Parson sprang back.
“I’ve struck something!” he cried.
“Whoop!” roared the crowd chuckling. “We’ve found the treasure! Hooray!”
“It’s hard,” panted the excited Stanard.
“It’s as hard as a rock, isn’t it?” said Mark, with a sly wink. And
then he added under his breath, “A rock it is.”
But the Parson was too busy to hear that. He was working feverishly,
plunging his spade into the ground, flinging out the earth,
occasionally hitting the object with a sharp sound that made him get
more overjoyed and the rest get more convulsed with laughter.
Truly the solemn Parson digging a trench was a most ludicrous sight;
his next move was more ludicrous still. He got down on his stomach,
flat, and reached into the ground.
“Whoop!” roared Texas, “it’s good he’s got long arms! Hooray, we’ve got
our treasure!”
“Yes, by Zeus!” cried the Parson, springing up and facing them. His
next words almost took them off their feet, and no wonder. “Gentlemen,”
he said, solemnly, “we have got a treasure! It’s got a handle!”
The five stared at each other in dumb amazement.
“A handle!” they echoed. “A handle!”
And then Mark flung himself to the ground, and reached in.
When he got up again it was with a look on his face that struck the
others into a heap.
“Fellows,” he cried, “as I live, it has got a handle!”
The Parson of course was not in the least surprised; it was what he
had been expecting all along. What surprised him was their surprise,
and incredulity, and blank amazement. Each one of them must needs
stoop and verify Mark’s extraordinary statement, learn that there was
something down there with a handle for a fact. And then, as completely
subdued and serious as ever were merry jokers they took the spade from
the exhausted Stanard and set to work to dig with real earnestness,
and in silence. No exclamation they could think of came anywhere near
expressing their state of mind.
They widened the hole the Parson had made, and thus exposed one
corner of the object, which proved to be a wooden chest, of what size
they could not tell. And that discovery completed the indescribable
consternation of the five. There never was a joke stopped much more
abruptly than that one.
They continued digging; to make a long story short they dug for half
an hour steadily, and by that time had succeeded in disclosing the box
which was over two feet long and surrounded by hard clay. Having freed
it, Mark sprang down and tried to life it; he failed, and they dug
the hole yet wider still. Then, fairly burning up with excitement and
curiosity and eagerness, the whole five got down into the ditch and
lifted out the chest.
It cost them quite an effort even then; but they got it out at last and
gathered around it, staring curiously, whispering anxiously. It was
locked firmly, that they could see. But the wood was rotten and Mark
seized the shovel and knocked the hinges off the back with one quick
blow. Then the six stood and stared at each other, each one of them
hesitating for a moment before revealing that uncanny mystery.
That did not last very long, however. Mark grasped the lid firmly and
wrenched it back. And as one man the six leaped forward to glance in.
“Gold!”
The cry burst from throats of every one of them at once. They sprang
back and gazed at each other in amazement. For that huge chest was
fairly brimming over with five-dollar gold pieces!
Oh, what a scene there was for the next ten minutes. The cadets were
fairly wild. They stooped and gazed at the treasure greedily. They ran
their fingers through it incredulously; they danced about the cave in
the wildest jubilation. For there was in that chest money enough to
make each one of them rich.
And then suddenly an idea flashed over Mark. This was a counterfeiter’s
cave!
“Is it genuine?” he cried.
Quick as a wink the Parson whipped two bottles from under his coat.
“I thought of that,” he said. “Yea, by Zeus! One is for gold, one
silver.”
He wrenched the stopper out of one bottle and stopped eagerly, the
seven staring in horror.
“If it’s gold,” he cried, “it’ll turn green!”
He snatched up one, and poured the acid over it. And the six broke into
a wild cheer as they saw the color come.
“Try another!” cried Mark.
For answer the Parson sprang forward and poured the contents of the
bottle over the coins. Everywhere it touched the tarnished metal it
showed the reaction. And the six locked arms and did a war dance about
the place.
“We’re rich!” they cried. “We’re rich!”
And then they stole back to camp again.