“Yes. You see it’s probable those men had some money, to say nothing of all the bad money they made. And it’ll be a case of ‘finding’s keepings.’”
“I see,” said Grace, thoughtfully. And then suddenly she broke into one of her merry, ringing laughs, that compelled Mark to join.
“I think the Parson’s such a queer old chap!” she cried. “Isn’t he comical? He’s so solemn and learned. I can just imagine him prying all about that cave, the same way he does for his fossils.”
“I never shall forget the day I first met the Parson,” responded Mark. “It was when we were just getting up the Banded Seven to try to stop the hazing. The yearlings had tied his long, bony frame in a sack. He had gotten out and chased the whole crowd of them about the parade ground. And he came into my room in barracks perfectly furious with indignation. Yea, by Zeus!”
“He found out I was interested in geology,” said Grace. “I studied it once, and he’s never ceased to give me lectures since he found that out. And I never hear anything nowadays but shistose slates, and sandstone conglomerates, and triassic eras, and orohippusses and pertodactyles and brontotheriums.”
“He gives us long discourses over in camp, too,” laughed Mark. “I can see his lank, bony figure now. It was more comical still when he wore his ‘geology coat,’ with huge coat tails and pockets for fossils. Anyhow, he gets very much worked up when he’s telling us about the glories of geology. And poor Dewey, who’s such an inveterate joker, always has to get into trouble by interrupting him. Yesterday, for instance, the Parson was telling us about seashores. He didn’t see how any one could fail to appreciate what a wonderful thing a beach was. Here was being written a record that men might read millions of years later. It would be hardened then into imperishable stone. Here, for instance, was the track of a bird. Little by little sand would be scattered over it; more sand on top of that; and so on until it was crushed into rock. That is the way all sandstones are made. Huge convulsions of earth would bring that up to the surface; men would find it, break it open, and there the track of the bird! Wonder of wonders!”
Here Mark paused for breath, and began to laugh.
“What did Dewey say?” inquired Grace.
“He wanted to know if the Parson would classify the summer girl as a bird. He said he’d seen lots of their tracks on the beach. Then he wanted to know if a learned geologist could tell the track of a Chicago girl from that of a Boston girl. Then he went on to imagine the contents of a Coney Island sandstone. The Parson had told of Megatheriums’ bones and teeth and skeletons. Dewey wanted to know how about empty sarsaparilla bottles and peanut shells, and tickets to the Turkish dancers and Shoot the Chutes, and popcorn balls, and frankfurters.”
“What did the Parson say?” laughed the girl.