They faced their animals around, and, taking the cue from the corporal, made an elaborate military salutation to Captain Dawson and his companions. Then they wheeled again and rode back to their former places.
“With my best regards,” added the colonel, also saluting, while the rest half-nodded and grinned over the odd turn of affairs. Dawson, Brush and Ruggles unbent sufficiently to respond, but kept their places, side by side, and watched the curious procession until it passed out of sight beyond a sweeping curve in the cañon.
“I wonder if we are likely to see any more of them,” said the parson; “they are an ugly lot and badly want our horses.”
“Not badly enough to fight Corporal Parker and his two friends. The corporal is the bravest man I ever saw. I know he was disappointed when the colonel was so quick in backing down. He will go hungry for two or three days, for the sake of a fight. It is he and not the colonel or any one in the company that is spoiling for a row.”
“And I picked him out as the first one to shoot,” grimly remarked Brush.
“The chances are ten to one that he would have 255 dropped you first, but it shows how easily one may be mistaken.”
“I tell you,” said Ruggles earnestly, “when that gang strikes New Constantinople, there’ll be trouble.”
“There’s no doubt of it,” commented Brush; “the forces will be about equal; if the boys at home could have warning of what is coming, they would make it so hot for Colonel Briggs and his tramps that they would be glad to camp somewhere else.”
“That wouldn’t improve matters, for of necessity there would be passing back and forth, and there are some people at New Constantinople who would welcome the change. That’s the worst of it; a good deal of this evil seed will fall on soil waiting for it.”
“We may be back in time to take a hand in the business,” said the parson; “I don’t know whether your friend, the corporal, can be secured as an ally.”