“Let’s not go any farther this way,” cried the girl.
“Who you t’ink iss making dot noise?” asked the baron.
“I don’t know,” she answered tremblingly, “but it must be some of Phelps’ men or some of Benner’s.”
“It dakes two tifferent kinds oof men for dot pitzness, Miss Berry. Vone kindt does der shooding, und der odder kindt iss shod ad. Vich is vich?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” returned Hattie, “but I mustn’t fall into the hands of those cowboys again! I would rather die than have that happen.”
“Id von’t habben,” said the baron valiantly. “Schust make your trusting py me. I vill safe you, Miss Berry, yah, so helup me!”
For nearly an hour longer they continued to ride across the open plain. Hattie would not consent to turn in the direction of the river, so they took a course that paralleled the stream.
They had a rough awakening from their fancied security. Shouts were suddenly heard behind. They looked around to see a large party of horsemen bearing down on them at full gallop.
The girl suddenly showed a spirit that aroused the baron’s admiration. Now, when her fortunes were at the lowest ebb, all her fears seemed to drop from her. Her face became set and resolute, her eyes flashed, and she goaded her horse to the best speed.
The baron’s mule, although a scrawny-looking brute, had both speed and bottom. Horse and mule, responding to the urging of their riders, flung onward neck and neck.