“Ye ort ter hev said so afore we come inter camp; then we could have left ye with Cayuse an’ ther hosses.”
“Nod on your life, Nomat!” murmured the baron vehemently. “I vant to blay efen mit dot Pernritter und dot Chacops, who gold-bricked me und almost got me in chail. Oof id hadn’t peen for Puffalo Pill I vould haf peen in der chail dis minid, und dot vould haf fixed me for keeps mit Frieda. She vouldn’t like some fellers ven he vas in der lock-up.”
The baron, gazing soulfully through the crack in the wall, continued to watch for stray glimpses of Frieda.
“Thet Bernritter, Buffler,” said Nomad to the scout, “come purty nigh hevin’ things his own way hyar. He had got McGowan’s darter ter agree ter marry him, an’ then he went on bunkoin’ her daddy out o’ ther funds ter live on. What er fool ther super is! Ef he’d a-played honest, he would prob’ly hev married ther gal; an’ then, sooner er later, he’d hev got all the old man’s money.”
“He’s an out-and-out rascal, Nick,” said the scout; “no two ways about that. But maybe McGowan is misinformed. Perhaps Bernritter’s suit for the girl’s hand was only a blind to give him a better ‘stand-in’ with her father. That’s the only way I can account for it.”
Suddenly the mill-whistle blew a long blast. As soon as the echoes of the whistle died away, the roar of the stamps ceased abruptly, and an unnatural silence pervaded the valley.
The day-shift men could be seen running out of the bunk-house and the night-shift men, grouped about a water-trough, began washing the grime from their faces preparatory to breakfast.
The men skylarked among themselves like a lot of schoolboys.
Once more the whistle blew, and there was a general movement in the direction of the chuck-shanty.
“I vish,” sighed the baron, “dot I vas going in dere mit der rest.”