“I’ve got my revenge!” he roared. “I’ve got it! I told you I’d get it! Didn’t I tell you so? I told you I’d have you B. J. plebes out of here if I died for it. And now my time’s come! Hooray! You’ll be found to-morrow, beyond cadet limits, and out you go. You can’t deny it! How do you like it?”
“You’ll go to Halifax! you ole coyote,” growled a smothered voice from the inside.
“Me! Ho, ho! What do I care? I’ve nothing to lose. I’m ready to go. But you—ho, ho! Ask that fool Mallory how he likes it.”
“Very well,” responded a cheery voice. “You must remember that we’ve got the treasure.”
“Much good it’ll do you,” chuckled Bull. “You’ll be in State’s prison in a week or so. Ho, ho! Let’s tell ’em, Chandler. The secret’s too good a one to keep. Ask Texas what became of the revolver he dropped in the hotel last night playing burglar. The revolver with the initials J. P. on it.”
That was a thunderbolt. From the way it struck the horrified prisoners dumb. Bull knew it, and laughed with yet more malignant glee.
“You can’t prove it!” roared Texas furiously.
“Can’t I?” chuckled Bull. “You’d hate to have me try. It would take all your gold to get you out of that scrape, I fancy. Ho, ho! Court-martial! State’s prison! I guess I’ve got the best of it for once.”
“It’s the first time,” growled Texas.
During all this the Parson had been hiding in the bushes, trembling, gasping, slowly taking in the situation, the dilemma his friends were in. All thoughts of the excitement under which he had originally set out were gone. He was cudgeling his head to see what he was to do to turn the tide of battle.