“From the way Frieda languishes around the baron, I should imagine not. He wants to see you, Buffalo Bill.”
“I’ll go with ye, Buffler,” said Nomad, who was standing near. “I got er big notion one o’ our pards is goin’ ter be cut out o’ our herd, an’ I’d like to be in at the finish.”
“So would I,” chipped in McGowan. “We’ll all go up.”
So it happened that the three of them made their way to the chuck-shanty, were met by Frau Schlagel, and conducted into the little bedroom off the kitchen where Frau Schlagel’s Chinese assistant usually slept.
But now the baron had usurped the Chinaman’s bed. Beside the bed sat Frieda, holding the baron’s hand in a life-and-death grip.
The baron looked mighty happy.
“Hello, eferypody!” said he. “Frieda und me haf got somet’ing to tell you. Hey, leedle gum-trop?” and the baron turned a pair of sheep’s eyes in the girl’s direction.
“Macht ruhig!” blushed Frieda. “You vas sooch a comical feller.”
“What have you got to tell us, baron?” laughed the scout.