Читать книгу A West Point Treasure; Or, Mark Mallory's Strange Find - Upton Sinclair - Страница 6

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What a lot of grewsomeness a little match can remove, to be sure! This one did not solve the mysteries of that wondrous cave, but it removed most of the horror of the explorers. It showed, for instance, that the furry thing which Mark had vowed was alive was an ordinary plush-covered chair!

The seven had no time to laugh at that; they were too busy staring. The feeble light could not reach to the other end of the long vista they saw, and neither could one of the papers they hastily lit. But it gave them one glimpse of a most amazing scene.

This cave was indeed a surprising place. The carpet they saw covered nearly all of the floor. There were chairs scattered about, and other articles of furniture. There were some curtains draped from the rocky walls. There were swinging lamps from the vaulted roof. Down in the dim distance there was even a table—a table with shining white dishes upon it. And then the light began to flicker.

Quick as a flash Mark seized it and sprang toward one of the lamps. He was just in time. He whipped off the shade and touched the wick. A moment later they were standing in a brilliant, clear light, that shone to the farthest depths of the place.

The seven bold plebes stood in the center beneath the lamp, perfectly amazed by what they saw. The same idea was flashing across the minds of all of them. This splendor must belong to some one! Those dishes up there were set for a meal! And the owner—where was he? Suppose he should come and find them there? Indian cast a longing glance at the opening that led to freedom outside.

Probably the wisest course for them would have been precipitate flight. To be trapped in there by desperate men would be terrible indeed! But curiosity urged them on. This was a glorious mystery—a mystery worth solving. It was almost a fairy tale; an enchanted princess alone was needed.

Now, whether they would have been bold enough to stay and look about them, had it not been for one occurrence, it is impossible to say. Texas, glancing curiously about him, caught sight of a familiar object on a bench to one side, and he leaped forward and seized it. He stared at it hastily and gave a cry of joy.

It was a revolver! A forty-four calibre, and it was loaded, too!

No power on earth could have moved Texas then; he had a gun; he was at home after that, and he feared neither man nor devil.

“Let ’em come!” he cried. “I’m a-goin’ to look.”

He strode forward, Mark at his side, and the rest following, peering into every nook and cranny.

One thing seemed certain. There was no one about. The cave had all sorts of passageways and corners, but hunt as they would they saw not a soul, heard not a sound. The place was like a tomb. It was just as silent and weird and uncanny, and moreover just as moldy and dusty as the tomb is supposed to be.

Mark examined the table with its queer outlay of dishes. They were all covered with dust; several had tops, and when Mark lifted them he found that they, too, were empty but for that. It seemed as if dust were everywhere.

Mark was recalled from his interesting exploration by an excited “B’gee!” from Dewey. Dewey was staring at the wall, and as the others ran up to him he pointed without a word in front of him. There was a calendar hanging there. And plain as day, the inscription was still—Tuesday, May the eighteenth, eighteen hundred and forty-eight!

The seven were too mystified by that to say a word. They stared at each other in silence, and then went on.

The next thing to attract their attention was a long workbench at one side. Mark wondered how that thing could ever have come in by the opening, until he saw a box of tools at one side, which suggested that it might have been built inside. There were all sorts of strange looking tools upon the bench, and molds, and dies, and instruments which none of them recognized. Nearby was a forge and a small pair of bellows, a pot of once molten metal, now cold and dust-covered, stood beside it; there were bars, too, of what the puzzled crowd took to be lead.

It was left to the all-wise Parson to discover what this meant. The Parson picked up one of the dies he saw upon the table. He gazed at it curiously, blowing away the dust and cleaning the metal. Then, muttering to himself excitedly, he stepped over to one side of the cave where soft clay was on the floor, and seizing some, pressed it into the mold. He held it before his horrified companions, a perfect image of the United States half dollar; and he spoke but two words of explanation.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “counterfeiters!”

The amount of excitement which that caused may be readily imagined. A counterfeiter’s den! And they were in it! Texas clutched his revolver the tighter and stared about him warily. As for poor Indian, he simply sat down upon the floor and collapsed.

“Fellows,” said Mark at last. “I say we finish examining this place and get out. I don’t like it.”

None of them did, and they did not hesitate to say so, either. Nothing but curiosity, and the fact that they were ashamed to show their fear, kept them from running for all they were worth. As it was, their advance was timid and hesitating.

They were almost at the end of the cave then. They could see the walls sloping together and the ceiling sloping down toward the floor. The light of the lamp was far away and dim then, and they could not see very clearly. But one thing they did make out to their surprise and alarm. The end of that cave was a heavy iron door, shut tight!

There was but one idea flashed over the minds of every one of the seven at that moment. The money! Here was where the men kept it, in that firmly locked safe.

“B’gee!” muttered Dewey. “I say we go back.”

Most of them wanted to, and in a hurry. But there were two of them that didn’t mean to; one was the venturesome and reckless Texas, and the other was Mark.

“I’m sorry I came in,” said the latter calmly. “But since I’m here I’m going to see the thing to the end. I’m going to search this cave and find out what the whole business means. Who’ll help me open that door?”

The Banded Seven weren’t timid by a long shot. They had dared more desperate deeds than any plebes West Point had ever seen. But in this black hole of mystery, suggestive of desperate criminals and no one knew what else, it was no wonder that they hesitated. There was no one but Texas cared to venture near that shadowy door.

Mark himself was by no means as cool as he seemed. He had made up his mind to explore the cave, and he meant to do it, but he chose to hurry all the same. He stepped quickly forward, peering anxiously into the shadows as he did so. And a moment later his hand was upon the door knob.

He shook it vigorously, but found that it was firmly set. It reminded him of the door of a safe, for it had a solid, heavy “feel,” and it closed with a spring lock, having no key. Mark noticed that as he was debating with himself whether or not to open it; and then suddenly he gave the knob a mighty wrench and pulled with all his might upon the door.

The knob was rusty, and so were the complicated hinges. The door finally gave way, however, with a creak that was dismal and suggestive. The others shrank back instinctively as the black space it disclosed yawned in front of them.

Mark’s heart was beating furiously as he glanced around to peer in. A musty, close odor caught his attention, and then as the faint light made its way in, he saw that beyond was still another compartment, seemingly blacker, and certainly more mysterious than the first. But Mark hesitated not a moment; he had made up his mind to enter and he did. Texas, who was at his back, taking hold of the door to hold it.

Those outside waited for but one moment, a moment of anxious suspense and dread. They had seen their leader’s figure vanish, swallowed up in the blackness of the place. They were wondering, tremblingly, as to what the result would be; and then suddenly came a result so terrible and unexpected that it nearly knocked them down. It was a scream, a wild shriek of horror, and it came from Mark!

The six outside gazed at each other, ready to faint from fright; Texas, startled, too, by the weirdness of the tone, sprang back involuntarily. And in an instant the heavy iron door, released from his hand, swung inward and slammed with a dismal clang that rang and echoed down the long, vaulted cave.

The noise was succeeded by a silence that was yet more terrible; not another sound came from Mark, to tell that he was alive or what. And for just an instant, paralyzed with fright, the horror-stricken cadets stood motionless, staring blankly at the glistening door. And then Texas sprang forward to the rescue. He seized the knob furiously, and tearing at the barrier with all his strength, flung it wide open.

“Come on!” he cried. “Follow me!”

Texas was clutching the revolver, a desperate look upon his face; the others, horrified though they were, sprang forward to his side ready to dare anything for the sake of Mark.

But there was no need of their entering. As the light shone in the whole scene was plainly in view. And the six stared with ever-increasing awe. Leaning against the wall, where he had staggered back, was Mark; his face was as white as a sheet; one trembling hand was raised, pointing across the compartment. And the rest followed the direction with their eyes, and then started back in no less horror, their faces even paler than his. Lying flat upon the floor, shining out in the blackness white and distinct and ghastly, their hollow eyes fixed in a death stare upon the roof, were six horrible, grinning skeletons.

Awe-stricken, those reckless plebes stood motionless, gazing upon the scene. They were too dumfounded to say a word, almost to think. And then suddenly, as one man, moved by a single impulse, they faced about and stole silently out of the place. The iron door clanged once more, and then, still silent, the plebes marched in Indian file down the long corridor to where the sunlight streamed in; helped each other out through the narrow opening; and finally, free at last, drew a long breath of inexpressible relief under the clear blue sky of heaven.

It was some minutes after that even before they said a word. Finally Mark spoke.

“Fellows,” he said, “there’s a mystery. Who can solve it?”

The Parson heaved a sigh and raised his voice.

“There were once,” he began, “six counterfeiters, who did their work in a lonely cave. That cave had two entrances, one of which we know of.”

“And the other lies at the end of the passageway,” said Mark.

“It was a way of escape,” went on the Parson, “in case the other entrance was discovered by outsiders. But subsequently that entrance became blocked——”

“And they were caught in their own trap,” finished Mark. “That door slammed as it did on me, and they were suffocated. And that is all. Let us go home.”

Still awe-stricken and silent, the rest arose and started to follow him. But suddenly Texas, the excitable, irrelevant Texas, stopped and began to gasp.

“Say!” he cried. “Fellers——”

“What is it?”

“D’ye know I never thought of it! That air cave is our’n!”

“How do you mean?”

“There ain’t any one else to own it, that’s what I mean. An’ ef ever we want a place to hide in——”

“Or haze yearlings in,” came from Dewey.

“It’s ours!” cried Mark. “Just the thing! Hurrah!”