“Idt iss a skinch dot idt iss der vomans!” said the baron, his face shining. “Vot you t’ink?”
The scout was following the tracks.
They led off in a direction opposite to those taken by the larger tracks; but circled after a while, and also turned toward the town.
“Vale, vot do you t’ink uff idt?” cried the baron.
They continued to follow the tracks, which led them on toward the town.
But they had gone but a few hundred yards when a rifle cracked, and a bullet sped with a whining sound past the scout’s head.
He ducked and fell flat.
“Down!” he urged.
“You are hidt?” the baron squawked, as he also dropped to the ground.
“No; but that came within an inch of me.”