Following this, the baron crept on his hands and knees down the gulley, determining what the men were doing by the sounds they made.
“Ach!” he said. “Dhis iss der vorsdt effer.”
The baron did not show himself for a while; but sat nursing his rifle, occupying a hollow into which he wedged his body, and where he was resolved to fight to the death if the outlaws followed him.
He knew they had the advantage, being familiar with the country, and being two to one.
When he concluded that they were not coming after him, he got out of his hole, and tried to discover what they were doing.
Then he found that they were gone.
They had taken the burros and treasure, and had vanished.
The place was a cut, with debouching gashes making from it in various directions, all rocky and hard as flint; so that, being unfamiliar with the location, the baron could do nothing.
Abundant proof that they had been there was given by the grewsome sight of the dead Austin, and by the wounded man they had considered dying when they left him.
Brown had been shot through the right side, but he was still conscious. To keep them from finishing him, he had feigned death.