“I don’t expect you to understand it—my feelings,” went on Conover, “I don’t really suppose that anybody ever can; so I’ll not try to make it plainer, but——”
The baron danced round the room in his excitement.
“Den id vass you,” he said, stopping short, “vat I vollered; you unt dem vomans. You vass bot’ uff you riting on vun horse.”
“Yes; and you got yourself in this fix by following us.”
“Id vass der golt she hat vat I voller—der golt on her pridle unt sattle, unt on her dress; she vas vair shinin’ mit golt unt silver. I seen her ter tay before, ven she bass me py; but I tidn’t see no chilt. Unt den in der moonlighd, ven I vake me oop, I seen her vonst again, unt a man’s mit her, unt she shine more as efer like golt mit dem moonlighds. Unt I t’ink varefer dat golt peen so blentiful iss der blace for me; unt I voller, unt I come here by der drail. Yaw, dat iss der troot. Unt id vass you, unt diss golt vomans. See here!” He hammered again the window bars. “Golt varefer you loogk; gold door latchges. Inchins mit gold earrings unt praceleds, mit golt breastbins unt hairbins, mit gold gollars on der necks, mit golt arrow beats unt golt on der lance boints. It make me grazy as a loonadicks, so mooch golt varefer I loogk.”
He stopped, almost breathless.
“But I tidn’t see no Puffalo Pills follerin’ diss vomans unt you.”
“He and his pards are out in the hills now, but they’ll be captured. I hope they will get away, but I don’t see how they can. It’s no country for a white man to come into.”
“Yid you vass here—huh?”
“That’s different.”