"It vas der closest call vat efer I hat, you bed you! Aber say, vonce!"
"Well?"
"Ve vas forgedding aboudt der feller vat fired dot pullet. Oof he vas anyvere aroundt, meppy he vill haf some more pullets for us."
The wreck, and the saving of Dick, had so taken up Matt's attention that he had not given any thought to the marksman who had caused the trouble.
As Carl spoke, both boys lifted themselves erect and peered about them. They could see no one.
"The scoundrel is leaving us alone," said Matt darkly. "He ought to be content with what he has done, I think," and he swept a rueful glance upward into the tree.
"Who he vas, do you t'ink?"
"Some hunter, perhaps; maybe it was a superstitious negro, who fired at us and then ran away."
"Und meppy," suggested Carl, in a tremor, "it vas some oof der Jurgens gang! Meppy dot iss der drap dey vas going to shpring."
"Maybe; but, even if what you say is correct, we've got to go right ahead and take care of Dick. Lay hold of him, Carl, and help me."