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Updated: August 14, 2024
I am sure you have something of importance to yourselves on your minds." "Not to us specially. Perhaps to you, though," replied Tad. "Indeed?" "We may be foolish. If so, you will understand that we have no motive beyond a desire to serve you." "That goes without saying." "Do you know a man by the name of Lasar Bob Lasar, Mr. Marquand?" Mr. Marquand started, eyeing both lads questioningly.
Marquand laughed harshly. "If we were in a position to get a posse we should be able to get away without one. I think we had better go below. This is not a very safe place with this open window." "I'll remain here." "What for, Kringle?" "Somebody's got to watch the front door to see that they don't play any tricks on us. It's clouding up, and if the night gets dark they'll try to get in."
There were five more bullets in the cylinder of the weapon, as the lad knew full well. He grabbed Lasar's arm, hanging on desperately, at the same time trying to get a wrestling hold. The weapon went off again, this time sending a bullet into the floor. "Look out for the other fellow!" shouted Tad. Mr. Marquand already had done so.
Bob Lasar's face had grown livid with rage. His anger was rapidly getting beyond all bounds. Tad observed it and saw the storm coming. It arrived a moment later when Lasar whipped out a revolver. Before Mr. Marquand could make a move to draw his own weapon Bob had aimed his weapon and pulled the trigger.
She is poised, ready for flight and the proud lift of her head makes one believe that she will accomplish the most difficult steps she attempts. The painting is in the Luxembourg, Paris. Other noted Sargent portraits are "Mr. Marquand" in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, "Lady Elcho, Mrs. Arden, Mrs. Tennant," "Mrs. Meyer and Children," "Homer St. Gaudens," "Henschel," and "Mr. Penrose."
"But what leads you to believe this is the Pueblo village of your particular chief's ancestors?" "Yes; I don't see why it might not be any of the ruined adobe houses in this valley?" said Ned Rector. They had journeyed rapidly over mountain and plain to the valley of the Guadalupes, where Mr. Marquand had informed them that he expected to find the treasure.
He threw himself on the floor, and with his knife scratched a cross on the spot where the moonbeam rested. Scarcely had he done so when the delicate shaft of light disappeared as suddenly as it had come. "It's gone," breathed the boys. "But it has pointed the way." "And we have followed the silver trail to its end," added Ned Rector poetically. "Bring the tools!" cried Mr. Marquand.
The scoundrels!" growled Mr. Marquand. "But we'll make short work of them." "Not so easy as you think There are more than two out there there's a crowd and they've got rifles. Our rifles are over in the camp. I've got a six-shooter and so have you, but what do they amount to against half a dozen rifles?" "I'll talk to them, if I can get any place to make them hear," announced Mr.
In the three days consumed on the journey, the travelers had seen nothing of either Lasar or Comstock. Evidently the pair had decided to leave the country while they still had the chance, fearing that perhaps Mr. Marquand might invoke the aid of the law to rid himself of them if they remained.
Marquand called the Professor aside. "There is, on a rough estimate, all of sixty thousand dollars in the treasure chest. Had it not been for you and your brave boys I should have lost it. So, when you reach Hondo to-morrow, I shall take great pleasure in presenting to each of you a draft for two thousand dollars." Professor Zepplin protested, but Mr. Marquand insisted, and he kept his word.
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