“At the ranch. Nate had gone away early to look for some stray cattle. He didn’t come back when he said he would, and father went to hunt him up. Father didn’t come back either, and I was in the house reading when--when--when Benner’s cowboys came. I fought to get away from them, but there were two of them, and what could I do? They took me to Fritz Dinkelmann’s, and I was told that Benner was coming to see me this morning. Oh, but I am glad you came to my aid, Mr. von Schnitzenhauser!” “So am I glad,” said the baron, “more glad as I can tell. Vy ditn’t you dry und knock der poards off from der insite, huh?” “I did try--but I had only my hands.” She lifted her hands to show him how they had been bruised and scratched. “Ach, sure,” said the baron, “you couldn’t haf got oudt oof dot blace mitoudt an axe, same as vat I hat.” “When I heard you come to the house last night,” the girl went on, “I made up my mind to see if you would befriend me. I was lucky in happening to have that bit of lead pencil in my pocket, and the handkerchief served very well for something to write on. I waited until I knew Mrs. Dinkelmann was in the kitchen, and then I tapped on the door to attract your attention, and began pushing the handkerchief through. I can’t begin to tell you how glad I was when I heard you rap on the boards at the window, but you were a long time getting me out.” “Id vasn’t safe to dry it sooner,” explained the baron, keeping quiet about the way he went to sleep; “der olt laty vas on guard mit der bistol. Ach, vat a big bistol id vas! Und I bed you id shoots like anyding.” “Well,” sighed the girl, “I am safely away from the house, and I shall soon be at home now.” “You bed someding for nodding aboudt dot. Aber tell me vonce: Iss dot Dinkelmann a pad feller?” “No, I don’t think he is, baron. He owes Benner money, though, and Benner forces Dinkelmann to do things that are not right. Dinkelmann is more to be pitied than condemned. He----” The girl broke off suddenly, and a startled look crossed her face. Halting her horse, she bent her head in a listening attitude. “Vat id iss?” queried the baron. “Can’t you hear it?” whispered the girl, a catch in her voice. “Shooting!” Yes, the baron heard the reports. They came from the direction of the Brazos, and he and the girl were traveling toward the stream. “Let’s not go any farther this way,” cried the girl. “Who you t’ink iss making dot noise?” asked the baron. “I don’t know,” she answered tremblingly, “but it must be some of Phelps’ men or some of Benner’s.” “It dakes two tifferent kinds oof men for dot pitzness, Miss Berry. Vone kindt does der shooding, und der odder kindt iss shod ad. Vich is vich?” “Oh, I don’t know,” returned Hattie, “but I mustn’t fall into the hands of those cowboys again! I would rather die than have that happen.” “Id von’t habben,” said the baron valiantly. “Schust make your trusting py me. I vill safe you, Miss Berry, yah, so helup me!”