“That will do, Frieda,” said McGowan. “I hope, for your sake, that the Dutchman is all he represented himself to be.”
McGowan and Bernritter went out and climbed into their waiting saddles.
“Which way did the fellow go, I wonder?” muttered the super.
“He took the Phœnix trail,” said McGowan. “I passed him on the road.”
The three horses were put to the gallop and the mine-owner and his assistants dashed out of the camp.
Frieda watched them until they disappeared, and then went back to the chuck-shanty with something like alarm in her eyes.
“Dere iss somet’ing oop,” she murmured, “und I hope dot nodding goes wrong mit Villum.”
The plot was thickening, however, and “Villum” was booked for considerable trouble.