“Ach, sure,” said the baron, “you couldn’t haf got oudt oof dot blace mitoudt an axe, same as vat I hat.”
“When I heard you come to the house last night,” the girl went on, “I made up my mind to see if you would befriend me. I was lucky in happening to have that bit of lead pencil in my pocket, and the handkerchief served very well for something to write on. I waited until I knew Mrs. Dinkelmann was in the kitchen, and then I tapped on the door to attract your attention, and began pushing the handkerchief through. I can’t begin to tell you how glad I was when I heard you rap on the boards at the window, but you were a long time getting me out.”
“Id vasn’t safe to dry it sooner,” explained the baron, keeping quiet about the way he went to sleep; “der olt laty vas on guard mit der bistol. Ach, vat a big bistol id vas! Und I bed you id shoots like anyding.”
“Well,” sighed the girl, “I am safely away from the house, and I shall soon be at home now.”
“You bed someding for nodding aboudt dot. Aber tell me vonce: Iss dot Dinkelmann a pad feller?”
“No, I don’t think he is, baron. He owes Benner money, though, and Benner forces Dinkelmann to do things that are not right. Dinkelmann is more to be pitied than condemned. He——”
The girl broke off suddenly, and a startled look crossed her face. Halting her horse, she bent her head in a listening attitude.
“Vat id iss?” queried the baron.
“Can’t you hear it?” whispered the girl, a catch in her voice. “Shooting!”
Yes, the baron heard the reports. They came from the direction of the Brazos, and he and the girl were traveling toward the stream.