The German stared up at him, blinking his eyes in the unfamiliar light.
“Take a good look at me,” the man said, with a laugh; “maybe you’ll be able to recognize me hereafter.”
“You ar-re vun tuyfel!” the baron spat at him.
“Think so? All my friends say that I’m a perfect angel.”
The woman had not a word to say; she seemed chilled by her position, and filled with hopelessness.
By one of the back doors of the Casino the prisoners were got out into a dark street. Four men were in charge of them—Uncle Sam, White-eyed Moses, Benson, and Juniper Joe.
The ropes had been removed from the ankles of the prisoners, but their hands were still tied; and they had been told that if they tried to escape, or call for help, they would be killed without mercy.
In that darkest hour before dawn the whole population of Blossom Range appeared to be asleep. Not a person was encountered in any of the dark, back streets through which the party passed.
When the cabin of Uncle Sam was reached, on the crest of the hill called Folly Mountain, the darkness still held.