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"Who are you and what do you mean by shooting us up in this fashion?" he demanded. "You ought to know who we are, Jim Marquand, and you know what we want!" "Yes, I know you all right, Lasar, and I'll make you smart for this." "The place is as much mine as it is yours," answered Lasar. "And I propose to take it!
"Master Tad, did you ever see these men before?" They turned on the lad quickly. Neither man had previously observed him. "Yes, sir." "Where?" "On the train, as you mentioned just now." "And they were plotting my life?" "So it seemed to me, sir." "What have you to say to that?" demanded Mr. Marquand. "That the boy lies!" Tad's face flushed angrily. "That'll do," said Marquand, more quietly.
The Pueblos knew where it was, but they sealed the place up after the Pueblo revolution in 1680, and it's been corked tight ever since." "How'd Marquand get wise to it?" "From an old Pueblo Chief whose life he saved a few months ago. The old chief died a little while afterwards, but before he went, he told Marquand about the treasure."
"They're asleep all right," grinned one of the two men who occupied the seat just ahead of Stacy and Tad. "Is old man Marquand going to meet us at the station?" "Oh, no. That wouldn't be a good thing. Might attract too much attention. Told him not to. We'll get a couple of ponies at Bluewater and ride across the mountains. But we've got to be slick. The old man is no fool.
Morgan's bronze Eros from Pompeii, and the various cases of porcelain from a score of collections. But without extra allurements I should have been drawn again and again to this magnificent museum. Two of the principal metropolitan donors Altman and Hearn were the owners of big dry goods stores, while Marquand, whose little Vermeer is probably the loveliest thing in America, was also a merchant.
Hastily retracing his steps he called the party up to the second cellar. "Did you fetch the sacks?" called Mr. Marquand. "No, but I've fetched trouble. It's coming in sackfuls." "What do you mean?" "We're besieged." "Besieged?" wondered the Professor. "Yes; there's a crowd outside, and they've been trying to shoot me up. Must be some of your friends, Mr. Marquand." "Lasar and Comstock?
Marquand and the boy had gone no more than ten rods from the hotel, when the report of a revolver was heard, and a bullet fired from the corner of an adobe building passed within an inch of Mr. Marquand's head. With wonderful quickness the latter drew and sent three shots at the flash. Whether he had hit any thing or not he did not know. "Run!
Marquand had snatched at the lantern and was running from point to point of the chamber in which they found themselves. He was laboring under great excitement. "Here's another opening," he shouted. "We haven't got to the bottom yet." Another flight of stairs led to still another and smaller chamber below. Mr. Marquand let out a yell the moment he reached the bottom.
Have you any title to this property?" "Yes. I have bought up a hundred acres about here. The deeds are in my pocket. I guess nobody has a better title.". "His title is all right," spoke up Professor Zepplin. "I made sure of that before I decided to come with Mr. Marquand." "Then there's only one thing to be done." "What's that?" "Get a sheriff's posse and bag the whole bunch." Mr.
Marquand, pulling a roll of bills from his pocket. "How much is it?" "Well, you see " "How much is it?" "Well, I guess twenty-five would be about right. You see " "Here's your twenty-five. Clear out!" With many apologies the proprietor, accompanied by the others, backed from the room. "We came pretty near having a fight, didn't we?"
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