McGowan told them they were to receive double pay while they were laid up, and that they could be laid up as long as they pleased. While the doctor was looking after the baron, Rising and Hawkins were getting particulars and taking descriptions for use in an effort to apprehend Bernritter, Bascomb, and perhaps some of the Apaches. The scout was in front of the laboratory when the doctor came out of the chuck-shanty and walked in the direction of the mill. The doctor was wearing a broad grin. “How’s that Dutch pard of mine, doctor?” asked the scout. “He’s mighty bad off,” answered the doctor. “How’s that? Why, I thought his wound----” “Oh, his wound’s all right. He can be up and around to-morrow, so far as his wound is concerned.” “Then how is he bad off?” “It’s his heart. Bad case of heart-disease. That girl Frieda is the cause of it.” The scout laughed, too. “Is it all one-sided, this affair of the baron’s?” the scout asked. “From the way Frieda languishes around the baron, I should imagine not. He wants to see you, Buffalo Bill.” “I’ll go with ye, Buffler,” said Nomad, who was standing near. “I got er big notion one o’ our pards is goin’ ter be cut out o’ our herd, an’ I’d like to be in at the finish.” “So would I,” chipped in McGowan. “We’ll all go up.” So it happened that the three of them made their way to the chuck-shanty, were met by _Frau_ Schlagel, and conducted into the little bedroom off the kitchen where _Frau_ Schlagel’s Chinese assistant usually slept. But now the baron had usurped the Chinaman’s bed. Beside the bed sat Frieda, holding the baron’s hand in a life-and-death grip. The baron looked mighty happy. “Hello, eferypody!” said he. “Frieda und me haf got somet’ing to tell you. Hey, leedle gum-trop?” and the baron turned a pair of sheep’s eyes in the girl’s direction. “_Macht ruhig!_” blushed Frieda. “You vas sooch a comical feller.” “What have you got to tell us, baron?” laughed the scout. “Vell, Frieda say dot she vill pecome _Frau_ von Schnitzenhauser ven I peen vell enough to shtand id.” “Oh, ho!” cried the scout. “Then you’re not going to travel with this outfit any more, eh?” “Vell, I don’d can be in doo places ad der same time; und I couldn’t take Frieda along oof I draveled mit you some more, couldt I?” “Not very well,” said the scout. “But what are you going to do to make a living, baron?” “I hafen’t t’ought aboudt dot, yet,” admitted the baron, pulling a long face. “It’s quite an important thing, baron,” said the scout. “I can take care oof Frieda some vay, I know dot.” “Perhaps,” put in McGowan, “I can help you, baron. I will give you a job, here at the Three-ply; you can work in the mill and Frieda can continue to help her mother in the chuck-shanty. Between the two of you you’ll probably make money enough to buy me out, one of these days.” “Schust a minid, oof you blease,” said the baron. “You t’ought I shtole dot par oof goldt. Vat you t’ink now, hey?”