"She's jes' full o' fun," laughed Texas, "but I reckon the great reason's cause she's so fond o' Mark. I wish I had his luck. I jes' stand off, 'n look at her and wonder s'posin' 'twas me—dog gone it!"
Texas saw an amused smile begin to flit about his companion's merry face; he suspected he was about to "remind" that cheerful recounter of a yarn; so he stopped.
"Tell you what," he continued after some more thinking. "I know 'nother girl that's dead gone on Mark."
"B'gee!" cried Dewey in surprise. "Who's that?"
"'Moll' Adams."
"Who on earth is she?"
"I reckon she came in afore you met us," mused Texas. "Yes, 'twas 'fore you joined the Banded Seven. You know Bull Harris?"
"B'gee!" laughed Dewey. "Didn't I lick the cuss once?"
"That's so," said Texas. "I forgot. Well, Bull—'twas jes' like him—was botherin' this girl down on the road to Highland Falls one day. He had hold of her arm an' she was fightin' to git away or somethin'. Anyhow Mark knocked him down, which was the beginnin' of all this hazin' business. Bull got all his yearlin' gang after Mark. After that Mark did her 'nother favor, got her brother out of a terrible scrape. An' I think she's been mighty fond of him ever since."
"B'gee!" laughed Dewey. "This is real romantic. What makes you think so?"