Having made up his mind to accompany Bill Betts on this wild excursion to the Ute village, the baron set out forthwith, tramping at Betts’ heels with exceeding care. He had been wanting to see for himself what was happening, for such infernal Indian yelling he had never heard in all his wide experience. He was genuinely anxious, too, about Buffalo Bill. He justified his disobedience of the latter’s orders by this feeling of anxiety, though he knew well enough that if Cody’s wish could be ascertained, Nomad would have been selected to go to the village, if any one went at all. Buffalo Bill trusted the old trapper as he did no one else except Wild Bill Hickok. No difficulty was experienced in keeping to a straight line--that wild howling would have guided one through Stygian darkness. The only thing was to guard against stumbling and falling. There was little likelihood that they would be heard, because of the Indian uproar. “Sounds like ther infernal regions has heaved themselves right out upon the yearth,” Bill Betts observed when they stopped on nearing the commotion and noise. “D’y’ ever hear anything like it?” “Der nearest,” said the baron, “iss vhen my vife gif me a biece uff her mindt der second day after ve ar-re marriet.” “Wow! It must er been a heavy piece!” “Vell, you haf heardt a door preaking down, unt a stick uff vood hammering on idt. Dot vos my vife drying to gidt at me into der room vare I haf run. Also-o, she vos yelling for der bolice.” “You must have had a happy married life, Schnitz.” “Yaw! Der fairst day idt voss vlatirons, der secondt day idt vos proomsdicks unt rolling bins, unt der nexdt day idt----” “Wow!” Betts broke in. “Lissen ter that. We’ve got to git nearer.” “Nearer idt iss. I am mit you.” They were not content until they were close up by the lodges. Then, as they still could not see well enough, they crossed the line into the village. “Keep close by me, Schnitz, and be ready fer trouble and to cut and run if we have to. See that lodge off thar? It’s whar the yellin’ is fiercest. Sounds like killin’ men thar, don’t it? I have a ingrowin’ feelin’ that Brother Jim is clost about that spot.” The baron, who had been stooping, stood up and stared off in the direction indicated. A leaping fire near it showed the lodge and the swarming, painted Indians. “Thar’s a temperance lesson fer ye!” said Betts. “Shows what whisky will do.” “Ach! Vhisky iss no goot.” “I’m goin’ to git clost enough to see if Jim is in the midst of that. You keep by me. Don’t fergit that I’ve got my umbreller gun. We’re goin’ to git down now and sneak along behind it. Thar’s bowlders big and little everywhars you look. Set this umbreller open on the ground, and in this pore light you couldn’t tell it frum a bowlder. We can take advantage of that fact; it’s why I like the old gun. Besides, if anybody comes toward us, I can drap him with it, and he won’t know whar the bullet come from. You jest keep close at my heels.”