After that the rest appeared one by one, and at each Bull Harris gasped and trembled more. They seemed to him like the ghosts of men he had murdered. There was Dewey, not smiling for once. There was Indian, not scared for once. There was Sleepy, wide awake for once. There was Chauncey, dignified forever. And then last of all was Texas; Texas broke the spell.
It was not the latter’s features, though, as Dewey facetiously informed him, he had a face that would break anything from a spell to a broncho. But it was what Texas held in his hand. It was his usual style—forty-four caliber—and Texas was aiming it right at Bull’s head.
“Move one whisker, an’ I’ll fire, you ole coyote.”
That, quite naturally, proved that the plebes were of ordinary flesh and blood. There was nothing shadowy about the gleam of that revolver, and Bull started back in still greater alarm.
It was the Banded Seven’s turn, after that.
Mark always declared that it was perfectly safe to let Texas “hold up” Bull and his gang whenever it was necessary to capture them, for Bull and his gang never had the courage to blink one eye when Texas was waving his weapons. There are some advantages in being known as a “bad man.” It was so in this case; the Seven sprang forward and flung themselves upon their tormentors and speedily had them flat on the ground, tied up with the remnants of the cowboy’s most serviceable lasso.
The question was then what shall we do with them? The plebes retired to a distance to talk that over. They had a little more than two hours left, by the watch. During that time they were to devise and execute some act of retaliation.
The council proceeded to discuss ways and means. Not to delay with details, suffice it to say that they talked for some ten minutes—and that then suddenly Mark sprang up and slapped his knee with excitement.
“By jingo!” he cried. “I’ve got it!”
After that there was excitement. Mark hastily outlined his scheme, the others chuckling and dancing about in the meantime with sheer delight. Evidently this was an idea. Bull heard the merry laughter in the distance, and he realized that it boded ill for him. Bull bit his lip with vexation and struggled with his bonds. His peace of mind was not increased in the least by the realization of the fact that everything that happened to him was richly deserved.