The rest listened to all this with much solemnity. The Parson was in one of his most scholarly moods that night, and it was a whole farce comedy to hear him. But, unfortunately, his discourse put a stop to the serious discussion concerning Bull Harris; that problem was to arise again very soon.
During all this, of course, the party had been hurrying up toward the post, with as much rapidity as they possibly could. They knew that if once they could manage to reach Fort Clinton and get into their uniforms, they would be entirely safe. No one, not even a sheriff, would ever dream that those much-hunted and dreaded lunatics were Uncle Sam’s pupils.
Still laughing and joking with the classic Bostonian, they had almost reached the southern buildings of the post, before anything else happened. For it is necessary to say right here that those plebes were not destined to reach camp that night, or rather morning, without further adventure.
It was after one of the longest pauses in the Parson’s discussions of that “casuistical complication.” The rest were waiting for him to begin again, when suddenly from the woods to one side a sound of footsteps was distinctly heard.
The plebes stopped short, as if they had been turned to stone. They were almost turned with alarm. They heard the step again; it was several people advancing; and as one man the Seven crouched suddenly to conceal themselves in the shadow of the bushes—the folly of their recklessness flashed across them with horrible clearness at that moment. They had escaped from their danger, almost as if by a miracle. And then, instead of running with all their might for camp, seeking safety with all possible swiftness, here they were loitering along as if there were no such man on earth as a determined sheriff, and now——
The noise of the advancing men grew louder every moment. It was evident that they were to pass almost over the plebes. There were several of them, tramping heavily, crashing the brush beneath their feet with a sound that to the trembling listeners seemed the advance of a herd of elephants.
Then there came a voice.
“Ho, ho! You bet we’ve fixed him!”
“Hooray! I just guess! Say, but I bet those plebes are sick just now.”
“I never saw a sicker looking plebe than that confounded Mallory in my life. By Heaven, he deserves it all, though. I could kill him.”