“Do you know,” laughed Mark, “there’s not a soul has the least idea it was we? Nobody seems to have thought for a moment that cadets were the cause of all the excitement. Just think of it! Lunatics!”
It was but little wonder that nobody connected the Banded Seven with that band of raving madmen, so called. West Point was fairly on tiptoe with excitement concerning the creatures, who were supposed to be still loose in the woods.
Naturally the Seven were hilarious over the state of affairs. Their discussion of the question was stopped, however, by the arrival of one of their number upon the scene. It was Texas, who had been over to the camp for a brief while; from his manner it was evident that Texas had some news.
“Fellers,” he cried, scarcely waiting till he was close to them before he began. “I’ve jes’ heerd somebody talkin’, an’ I’ve discovered a plot!”
“A plot! Whose?”
There was no need of the six asking that so eagerly; one name rose up before all their minds. There was one yearling, and only one, who got up plots to discomfort them.
“It’s Bull Harris,” continued Texas, hurriedly. “An’ he——”
“He hasn’t found out about last night?” cried Mark.
“No,” said Texas, “’tain’t that. He’s a-goin’ to take that air crowd o’ his’n—Gus Murray, an’ Merry Vance, an’ Baby Edwards, an’ them, up to our cave! An’ I want to know ef we’re a-goin’ to stand that.”
“I don’t think we will,” laughed Mark, promptly. “At least not if I have anything to say in the matter.”