“Such a man,” commented the scout, “deserves the worst that can happen to him.” Nomad was kneeling beside the baron, binding up his injury with a piece of sacking. “Is it a bad wound, Nick?” the scout asked solicitously. “Scratch, thet’s all,” said Nomad. “How’s Jacobs’ wound?” “That’s worse, but not so bad thet et’ll keep him from goin’ ter ther penitentiary.” McGowan got up and walked over to the baron. “How do you feel, Schnitzenhauser?” he asked. “Pedder as I mighdt oof id vas a whole lot vorse,” said the baron, sitting up. “Are you able to walk?” “I don’d t’ink I vas.” “If you were able to walk,” went on McGowan, “I would have you go to the chuck-shanty and tell Frieda I wanted her to take care of you. But, as you can’t navigate----” The baron was on his feet in a flash. “Oh, vell, meppy I could walk so far as der chuck-shandy,” said he eagerly. “Go on, then,” said McGowan, with a wink at Buffalo Bill. The baron went, and he was quite brisk about it, too. “Let’s go out, Buffalo Bill,” suggested McGowan, “and see what our casualties are. I hope none of my boys have been badly injured.” Together the scout and the mine-owner left the laboratory, Nomad staying behind to look after Jacobs and the amalgam. The first man the scout and the mine-owner saw as they emerged from the office was Andy O’Connell. “Are yez all roight, McGowan?” asked O’Connell. “Barring a blow on the head that still makes me feel a little dizzy,” answered McGowan. “Were you one of those who chased after the thieves?” “I was that, but sorry a wan av th’ blackguards did we catch. They had horses waitin’ beyant th’ hill, an’ they was on thim an’ away befure we could git to our own mounts. Th’ white scoundrel that led th’ attack was hurted--annyway, his arm was tied up in a bit av cloth. He lit out jist a-smokin’. Bernritter was close behind him. Whyever did Bern break through th’ window an’ chase aff wid th’ villains?” “Because he was mixed up with them, Andy.” “What! Bern wan av th’ thaves?” “He was--and the worst one. Jacobs was also implicated, but he’s wounded and back there in the office.” “Well, glory be! Av that ain’t news I niver heard any!” “How many of our men were hurt, Andy? Do you know?” “Chislett, the mill-engineer, got a bullet through th’ thigh av him, and Harkness, av th’ night-shift, got a bit av a scratch in th’ shoulder. Besides them, we’ve picked up three dead Injuns.” “Where are Chislett and Harkness?” “In th’ mill.” The scout and the mine-owner pushed on to the mill and found the wounded men in the engine-room, sitting up in a couple of chairs and being attended to by the amalgamators. They were not seriously hurt. “Lucky for us, Mr. McGowan,” said Chislett, “that we had warning of the attack. But for that there’d been a lot of us caught napping, and the reds wouldn’t been the only ones to cash in.”