“Haf you no chincher?” demanded Fritz. “Iss it not vort’ a leedle shcare chust to load oop mit goldt dot vill make you a rich mans for life, hey? Vell, I bed you! I t’ink him all oudt, und I arrife py der gonglusion dot a shpook iss nodding more as a shadow in der sun, oder der moon. Vat a shpook does makes no odds aboudt der tifference. Ve go, ve ged der goldt, und ve come back. Dot’s all aboudt it. I got me a shovel in vone handt, und a glub in der odder. Mit vone, I tig oop der goldt; mit der odder, I knock ofer der shpooks. Und dere you vas. Ve shall be gompany mit each odder, Pallard.”
“I don’t see how I can back out, Carrots,” said Ballard, “the way you put it up to me. You’re an awful persuader. How much gold is there?”
“I see it in der tream dot dere iss more as ve can carry, yes.”
“Maybe that dream is just fooling you, Carrots.”
“You say yourselluf dot treams iss somet’ing, Pallard.”
“Did I? Well, maybe they are something. You go first, will you, Carrots? I’ve got a weak heart, and if I should run onto a spook without any warning it would knock me stiff.”
“I vill go fairst,” agreed Fritz, generously and valiantly, “und you precede. I vill vatch aroundt carefully, und oof ve don’d make some noises, den meppy der shpooks von’t hear, und ve gif dem der slip.”
Fritz waddled off into the darkness, and Ballard, enjoying himself hugely, trailed after him. Suddenly, without the least warning, Fritz dropped the shovel and the club, whirled in his tracks, and took Ballard in a convulsive embrace.
“Ach, du lieber!” he whimpered. “I hear me someding, py shiminy! Lisden, vonce, Pallard! Vat it iss, hey?”
“Coyotes,” answered Ballard, in a smothered voice. “Brace up, Carrots. Don’t lose your nerve.”