While the doctor was looking after the baron, Rising and Hawkins were getting particulars and taking descriptions for use in an effort to apprehend Bernritter, Bascomb, and perhaps some of the Apaches.
The scout was in front of the laboratory when the doctor came out of the chuck-shanty and walked in the direction of the mill. The doctor was wearing a broad grin.
“How’s that Dutch pard of mine, doctor?” asked the scout.
“He’s mighty bad off,” answered the doctor.
“How’s that? Why, I thought his wound——”
“Oh, his wound’s all right. He can be up and around to-morrow, so far as his wound is concerned.”
“Then how is he bad off?”
“It’s his heart. Bad case of heart-disease. That girl Frieda is the cause of it.”
The scout laughed, too.
“Is it all one-sided, this affair of the baron’s?” the scout asked.