His next move was to go to the corral and look for the horse and the lady’s riding gear. He found both, and was not long in getting the horse and Toofer accoutred for the flight.
Leading the animals out of the corral, he hitched them to a post where they would be ready for use at a moment’s notice; then he stealthily approached the cabin, and peered through the window of the living room.
He was disappointed.
Frau Dinkelmann was wide awake. She had drawn a chair in front of the door leading into the prison chamber, and was sitting in it. She was knitting. Across her ample lap, the ball of yarn dancing around it as it unrolled, lay an old-fashioned pistol with a bright brass cap under the hammer.
The baron wondered if Frau Dinkelmann suspected that he was planning to assist the imprisoned lady. She was there on guard, that was evident.
Impatiently the baron went back to the corral. Sitting on a forkful of hay and leaning against the corral fence, he smoked three pipes very slowly, and again went to the house and stole a look through the window.
There was the frau, vigilant as ever, her needles flying and the ball dancing up and down the barrel and stock of the old pistol.
“Py shinks,” thought the baron, “vat oof she shdays dere all nighdt?”
The baron wasn’t afraid of the pistol—not for himself, but the lady would be endangered if he tried to take her away in spite of the watchful frau.
No, it would be better to wait until Frau Dinkelmann was sound asleep.