CHAPTER VIII.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 youreyes. 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 byand 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 todig 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 mostludicrous 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 weremerry 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.