"What is it, Dutchy?" called out Rasco, when they were within speaking distance.
"Vot ist it? Donner und blitzen, Rasco, it vos der vorst news vot efer you heard!" burst from Carl Humpendinck's lips. "I chust here him apout quarter of an hour ago, und I ride der horse's legs off ter told yer."
"But what is it—out with it?"
"It's apout dot girl you vos lookin' for. Rosy Delaney, dot Irish vomans vot haf such a long tongue got, she tole me der sthory. Gott im himmel! it vos dreadful!"
"But tell me what it is, Dutchy!" exploded Rasco. "Wot is dreadful?"
"Der sthory she tole—I can's most believe him."
"See here, out with the whole thing, or I'll swat yer one on the cocoanut, Humpendinck!" roared Rasco. "Yer as long-winded ez a mule thet's gone blind."
"Gracious, Rasco, you vouldn't hit me, afther I ride me dree miles und more ter tole you?" wailed the German, reproachfully. "I dink me you vos mine pest friend, next to Pawnee Prown, ain't it?"
"There'll be a dead Dutchman here in another minute if yer don't open up clear down ter the bottom!" howled Rasco, who had never before suffered such exasperation.
"Tell us the exact trouble," put in Dick, calmly. He saw that exciting Humpendinck still more would do no good.