“He thought he killed me, and let it go at that; or he feared that he didn’t, and that I would get him if he came on. One guess is as good as another.”
“I gan make a guesses dot peadts all uff dhem: I guess dot ve tond’t knowed noddings apoudt idt.”
While they were talking in low tones, they heard a crashing among the brush, but in the direction of the town.
“Vot?” the German gasped.
But the next moment they knew that the sound was made by the men whom the trapper had secured from Blossom Range.
When they came in sight they were seen to be excited citizens, half a dozen in number, accompanying an officer and the coroner, bearing with them a stretcher for the body.
The baron leaped to his feet and swung his hat to direct them; but did not call.
“Petter loogk oudt!” he cautioned, as they came near.
“Who was that shootin’?” Nomad demanded. “We heard a rifle off hyar. Been shootin’ at somebody?”
“Somepoty has peen shoodting at us!” the baron informed him.