The Banded Seven walked on through the woods in silence after their disagreeable enemy had left. They were all of them thinking over the strange turn of affairs.
It was Mark who broke the silence at last.
“I wonder what can have happened,” he said, “to cause Bull to turn about so suddenly?”
“I don’t think he has!” growled Texas.
“But he seems to have gotten up courage all of a sudden. I never thought he’d dare fight us.”
“I don’t believe he is,” was the ex-cowboy’s answer. Texas was less disposed than Mark to take a charitable view of his enemy. “I jes’ tell you it’s nothin’ but a bluff; an’ there’s mystery behind it, too. That air ole coward ain’t a goin’ to take a lickin’ from you.”
“I don’t see how he can do otherwise,” mused Mark, slowly. “He can’t get us caught if we keep in sight of camp. And he can’t trap us where you’ve got your guns, can he?”
“Wow!” gasped Texas, in horror. “Bet you’ boots he kain’t!”
“Well, then, what can he do?” demanded the other.
“I dunno,” was the answer, very dubiously. “But I’ll bet it’s somethin’, an’ somethin’ mean, too! Anyhow, I want to suggest somethin’. Let’s us fellers swear—the seven of us right hyar—that no matter what he does do an’ no matter what he does try—he gits that air lickin’ an’ gits it in a hurry. Hey?”