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.