“Vell, Frieda say dot she vill pecome Frau von Schnitzenhauser ven I peen vell enough to shtand id.”
“Oh, ho!” cried the scout. “Then you’re not going to travel with this outfit any more, eh?”
“Vell, I don’d can be in doo places ad der same time; und I couldn’t take Frieda along oof I draveled mit you some more, couldt I?”
“Not very well,” said the scout. “But what are you going to do to make a living, baron?”
“I hafen’t t’ought aboudt dot, yet,” admitted the baron, pulling a long face.
“It’s quite an important thing, baron,” said the scout.
“I can take care oof Frieda some vay, I know dot.”
“Perhaps,” put in McGowan, “I can help you, baron. I will give you a job, here at the Three-ply; you can work in the mill and Frieda can continue to help her mother in the chuck-shanty. Between the two of you you’ll probably make money enough to buy me out, one of these days.”
“Schust a minid, oof you blease,” said the baron. “You t’ought I shtole dot par oof goldt. Vat you t’ink now, hey?”
“I know now, baron,” said McGowan, “that you’re an honest Dutchman and a brave one. You hadn’t anything to do with that bar of gold. There’s my hand on it. Do you accept my proposition?”