The girl was staring at Mark with a look of interest and curiosity. That single hint was enough for her quick-witted mind, and her beautiful face was lit up with excitement in a moment.
“Jeminy!” she cried. “That’s so! Oo! Let me help, won’t you? We’ll fool the Parson with a treasure!”
During the next half hour those two conspirators, completely oblivious of everything, just sat and whispered and chuckled. They were off in a lonely corner with no one to overhear them, and they put their heads together and concocted schemes by the bushel, getting more and more excited and hilarious every moment. And then suddenly Mark sprang up with a cry of delight, said good-by in a hurry and rushed away.
“I must tell the rest of the Seven!” he laughed. “This is too good to keep! And oh, say, if we can work it! Whoop!”
CHAPTER VII.
STANARD’S STRANGE VISITOR.
Dress parade, which took place immediately after the above occupied the time until supper. It was growing dark by the time the battalion marched back from mess hall, and the plebes sighed and realized that one more Saturday half holiday was gone. Parson Stanard, with whom we have to do at present, looked around for his fellow members as soon as the plebe company broke ranks. He found to his surprise that they had disappeared suddenly, gone he knew not where. They had gone to put into execution the plot to fool him, but Stanard did not know it. He turned and strolled away by himself in the gathering dusk.
Near Trophy Point, just west of the camp, stands Battle Monument. North of it stretches one of the finest views that the Hudson Valley affords, a winding river reaching the horizon’s end with the mountains of the Highlands sloping to its very shores. The Parson liked that view especially at this “hour of peace.” The Parson was wont to preach long sermons to himself upon the sublimity of nature and the insignificance of man, etc., whenever he walked out there. And so now he seated himself in a quiet nook and soon forgot where he was and everything else about himself.
Others knew where he was, however, and from a safe distance were eying his meditative form. It got darker and darker, stars began to come out one by one, and the moon began to turn from white to golden. All this was lost upon the solitary philosopher, who would probably have remained hidden in his own thoughts until tattoo sounded, had it not been for one unpleasant interruption.
Now the Parson did not like to be interrupted; he looked up with an obvious expression of annoyance, when he became aware of the fact that a figure was approaching him, had stopped and was staring at him. But when the Parson surveyed the figure, he forgot to be annoyed, for it was a very peculiar-looking figure, and moreover it was acting very peculiarly too.