“Himmelblitzen!” wheezed a voice. “Oof you peen vone oof der Inchun shpooks, den I bet you I faint fits righdt on der shpot! Whoosh!” and the voice died away with a suggestion of chattering teeth.
“Carrots!” laughed Ballard. “Say, you crazy chump, what are you fooling around the gulch for at this time of night?”
“Oh, Pallard!” puffed Fritz, in great relief. “Vell, vell, vat a habbiness! Dere vas t’ings vich ve don’d know till ve findt dem oudt, hey? I vas looking for you, Pallard, yah, so helup me!”
“Looking for me?” echoed Ballard; “what for?”
“Meppyso I gif you haluf oof dot dreasure oof you go along und hellup me get him.”
“Oh, blazes!” chuckled Ballard. “I thought you’d got over that treasure notion, Carrots.”
“Lisden, vonce, und I told you someding.” Fritz dropped his voice to an explosive whisper. “Vat you dink? Py shiminy, so sure as nodding I findt me dot shtone mit der gross on. Yah, you bed my life! It vas so blain as I can’t tell, Pallard. Aber ven I roll avay der shtone und tig mit der shovel, I hear me some voices oof an Inchun chief. Dot shkared me avay. Haf you got der nerfs to go mit me to der blace back, Pallard? I peen shaky all ofer, und my shkin geds oop und valks on me mit coldt feet, yet I bed you I go back, und I findt der dreasure. You come, und so hellup me I gif you haluf!”
The excitement at the Wells, incident to the arrival of the Gold Hillers and following hard upon the rapid return of Fritz and Silva to the camp, had temporarily closed the fun Merry and his friends had had in the cañon. More important events had claimed the attention of the lads who had participated in the joke, and no one had explained matters to Fritz or the Mexican. So it chanced that the Dutchman was still laboring under his delusion.
Ballard wondered whether he had better set Fritz right, or keep the joke going. He finally decided that the stock would not suffer if he played out the Dutchman a little, and watched his antics in the supposedly spook-haunted gulch.
“When an Injun goes to the happy hunting grounds, Carrots,” remarked Ballard gravely, “it’s just as well not to stir him up. I’d hate to have a red spook get a strangle hold on me—there wouldn’t be treasure enough in the whole of Arizona to pay a fellow for an experience of that kind.”