Читать книгу A West Point Treasure; Or, Mark Mallory's Strange Find - Upton Sinclair - Страница 4

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It was a strangely accoutered cavalcade that set out from this West Point camp an hour or so later. The Parson, as guide and temporary chief, led the way, having his beloved “Dana’s Geology” under his arms, and bearing in one hand an “astrology” hammer (as Texas termed it), in the other a capacious bag in which he purposed to carry any interesting specimens he chanced to find. The Parson had brought with him to West Point his professional coat, with huge pockets for that purpose, but being a cadet he was not allowed to wear it.

Chauncey and Indian brought up the rear. Chauncey was picking his way delicately along, fearful of spoiling a beautiful new shine he had just had put on. And Indian was in mortal terror lest some of the ghosts, bears, tramps or snakes which the yearlings had assured him filled the woods, should spring out upon his fat, perspiring little self.

The government property at West Point extends for some four miles up the Hudson, and quite a distance into the wild mountains to the rear. The government property is equivalent to “cadet limits,” and so the woods are freely roamed by the venturesome lads on holiday afternoons.

The Parson was never more thoroughly in his element than he was just then. He was a learned professor, escorting a group of patient and willing pupils. The information which he gave out in solid chunks that afternoon would have filled an encyclopædia. A dozen times every hour he would stop and hold forth upon some newly observed object.

But it was when on geology that the Parson was at home. He might dabble in all sciences; in fact, he considered it the duty of a scholar to do so; but geology was his specialty, his own, his pet and paragon. And never did he wax so eloquently as when he was talking of geology, “That science which unravels the mysteries of ages, that reads in the rocks of the present the silent stories of the years that are dead.”

“Behold yon towering precipice,” he cried, “with its crevices torn by the winter’s snows and rains! Gentlemen, I suppose you know that the substances which we call earth and sand are but the result of the ceaseless action of water, which tore it from the mountains and ground it into the ever-moving seas. It was water that carved the mountains from the masses of ancient rock, and water that cut the valleys that lead to the sea below. A wonderful thing is water to the geologist, a strange thing.”

“It’s a strange thing to a Texan, too,” observed the incorrigible cowboy, making a sound like a popping cork.

“This cliff, all covered with vegetation,” continued the Parson, gazing up into the air, “has a story to tell also. See that scar running across its surface? In the glacial era, when this valley was a mass of grinding, sliding ice, some great stone caught in the mass plowed that furrow which you see. And perhaps hundreds of miles below here I might find the stone that would fit that mark. That has been done by many a patient scientist.”

The six were staring at the cliff in open-mouthed interest.

“In the post-tertiary periods,” continued the lecturer, “this Hudson Valley was an inland sea. By that line of colored rock, denoting the top of the strata, I can tell what was the level of that body of water. The storms of that period did great havoc among the rocks. This cliff may have been torn and burrowed; I know of some that had great caves and passageways worn in them.”

The six were still staring.

“We find many wonderful fossils in such rock. The seas then were inhabitated by many gigantic animals, whose skeletons we find, completely buried in stone. I have the foot of a Megatherium, the foot being about as broad as my arm is long, found in some shistose quartz of this period. If you will excuse me for but a few moments I should like to examine the fragments at the bottom of the cliff and see——”

“I think I see a foot there!” cried Mark, excitedly.

“Where?” demanded the Parson, no less so, his eyes flashing with professional zeal.

“It’s the foot of the cliff,” responded Mark. “Do you see it?”

The Parson turned away with a grieved look and fell to chipping at the rock. The rest roared with laughter, for which the geologist saw no cause.

“Gentlemen,” said he at last, “allow me to remind you of a line from Goldsmith’s ‘Deserted Village’:

“‘And the loud laugh that shows the empty mind.’”

Whereupon Dewey muttered an excited “B’gee.” Dewey had been so awed by his companion’s learning that he hadn’t told a story for an hour; but here the temptation was too great.

“B’gee!” he cried. “That reminds me of a story I once heard. There was a fellow had a girl by the name of Auburn. He wanted to write her a love poem, b’gee, and he didn’t know how to begin. That poem—the ‘Deserted Village’—begins:

“‘Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain.’

“So, b’gee, this fellow thought that would do first rate for a starter.

“He wrote to her:

“‘Sweet Auburn, loveliest of the plain,’ an’ b’gee, she wouldn’t speak to him for a month!”

Every one joined in the laugh that followed except the Parson; the Parson was still busily chipping rocks with his “astrology” hammer.

“I find nothing,” he remarked, hesitatingly. “But I see a most beautiful fern up in that cleft. It is a rhododendron, of the species——I cannot see it very clearly.”

“I’ll get it,” observed Texas, gayly. “I want to hear the rest of that air name. Don’t forget the first part—romeo—romeo what?”

While he was talking Texas had laid hold of the projecting cliff, and with a mighty effort swung himself up on a ledge. Then he raised himself upon his toes and stretched out to get that “rhododendron.”

The Parson, gazing up anxiously, saw him lay hold of the plant to pull it off. And then, to his surprise, he heard the Texan give vent to a surprised and excited “Wow!”

“What’s the matter?” cried the others.

Texas was too much interested to answer. They saw him seize hold of a bush that grew above him and raise himself up. Then he pushed aside the plants in front of him and stared curiously.

“What’s the matter?” demanded the rest again.

And Texas gazed down at them excitedly.

“Hi, you!” he roared. “Fellers, it’s a cave!”

“A cave!” cried the others incredulously.

By way of answer Texas turned, faced the rock again, and shouted a mighty “Hello!”

And to the inexpressible consternation of the crowd an echo, loud and clear, responded:

“Hello!”

It was a cave.