Throughout the evening performance in the Casino, the baron stuck to his post outside, though giving attention now and then to the singing, which could be heard from the street. When the crowd came away at last, the baron was on his feet, moving about, watching everything. He did not see Jackson Dane come out. “I tond’t t’ink he has passed me,” thought the baron, when the last of the concert goers had departed. “So-o, uff he vos in dhere vhen I fairst sit me down, he iss in dhere yidt. I vill vaidt a vhiles.” He waited, with German patience, until two o’clock in the morning, before he was rewarded. At that time he seemed to be a drunken miner asleep in the doorway he had chosen, his body slouched against the door, his big hat over his eyes, in such a way that he could see under its broad brim. At two o’clock Jackson Dane and Vera Bright came down the private stairs leading to the street, and they were quarreling. “Ach!” muttered the German. “Yoost hear dot!” It was a jealous quarrel; he could make that out, though he could get only a word now and then. “Vhen lofers blay oudt, dhen der dickens iss to bay!” muttered the baron. “Mr. Shackson Dane iss two-vaced, somehow; yidt I tond’t seen yoost how. Dot misinformation may gome py me lader. Yaw!” He could not see the man and the girl at first, but soon they came out through the door, still quarreling, and he had a fair view of them; so knew he was not mistaken as to their identity. Dane strode up the street, and the girl went back into the building. The baron pretended to awake with a snort; then rose heavily, and stretched himself. “Ouch!” he muttered. “I am going to gatch so mooch coldt sidding here dot I petter gidt me avay.” And he did. He slouched into the street, which was pretty well deserted by that time; then, getting the bearings of Jackson Dane, he began to follow him, with care. Dane went to the upper part of the town, and disappeared there, the spot where he vanished being not remote from the cabin of Juniper Joe. “I haf been t’inking all alongk dot dhere is some gonnection between dhem two vellers,” the baron muttered; “unt now maype I gan findt oudt vot idt iss.” But he failed in that. He searched about for Jackson Dane, but did not find him, though several times he passed through the trees close up to the cabin. Shortly before daylight he thought he saw Dane amid the trees; but he failed to see where he went. Right there the baron camped down, to wait for daylight. “Dhis groundt idt iss pooty soft,” he mused; “unt dher vay he vas valking he vouldt haf to make some dracks; I vill vaidt yoost a vhiles unt dake a loogk.” When he could see the tracks the baron began to follow them, finding that they led out into the hills on the north of the town. “I am vishing dot I haf Puffalo Pill’s Inchun drailers py me ridght now,” he thought, every time the trailing became difficult. “Liddle Cayuse couldt do dhis petter as me.”