“Vat iss der name?” asked Fritz, displaying a feeble interest in the baron. “Villum, Baron von Schnitzenhauser,” answered the baron. “Vat iss der madder? Some oof der shildren sick?” “Kindern ve haf none,” answered Fritz. “Haf you some cattles on der range?” “Cattles ve haf nod, neider kinder. Ach, du lieber, vat a hardt time I don’d know. I dry to do der righdt t’ing mit eferypody, und pecause I owe Penner, he makes me do der wrong t’ing, oder he takes from Katrina und me avay der leedle house vere ve lif.” “Shut oop such talks!” cried Katrina. “Der Dutch courage don’d make some helps mit you. I go by der kitchen now to ged us der paron some subber. Shpeak mit him, Fritz, vile I peen avay.” “Liebe Frau,” begged Fritz, stretching out his hands, “gif us first der schnapps.” She struck his hands aside. “Macht ruhig aboudt der schnapps, oder I vill der pottle preak on der shtones,” she cried angrily. With that, she lost herself in the rear room. The baron tried to talk with Fritz, but it was impossible to get much out of him. Even a mention of the German army failed to arouse any interest in the distressed Dutchman. Finally Fritz slumped back on the lounge and began to snore. The baron would have been disgusted but for the fact that some great sorrow was preying upon the unfortunate Dinkelmann. He craved his schnapps to give him strength to bear his trials. Frau Dinkelmann, it was clear, didn’t believe in Dutch courage. What was all the bother about? the baron asked himself. If it was the loss of cattle or a mortgage on the home that grieved and fretted his countryman, the baron would not have had much sympathy for him. The baron liked to see a man act in a manly way, face his misfortunes, and walk over them to peace, plenty, and happiness. But there was something besides the loss of cattle and the mortgage on Dinkelmann’s mind. While Dinkelmann snored, and his wife moved around in the kitchen, the baron smoked, and tried to guess out the problem. He was almost sorry he had not gone on to Hackamore with Nomad, Wild Bill, and Little Cayuse. Had he known the trail better, he would have excused himself and started out without waiting for supper. But he had lost his way so many times coming to Dinkelmann’s that he was afraid to attempt the unknown country by night. While he sat and mused, he became conscious of a slight tapping, as of knuckles lightly drumming against a door. He started forward in his chair, and stared around. There were only three doors to that room--one at the front entrance, one leading into the kitchen, and another opening off to the right. The tapping came from the other side of the door on the right. What did it mean? The baron sat and studied over the remarkable phenomenon until a shuffling sound struck on his ears. When that commenced, the knocking ceased.