The Forbidden Trail

"Don't shoot!" he cried. "My gun's strapped on Peter. I came to make apologies. Search Peter and me."

"I certainly will," said Roger, starting to suit action to word, as Ernest came running back with his shot gun. But he was interrupted. Mrs. von Minden came slowly forth from her tent, the broom in her hand with which she had been sweeping the sand drifts from her bed and floor.

"Gott im Himmel!" roared Crazy Dutch.

"He cannot hear such as you." Madam's tone was grim, as she advanced majestically.

She was a good foot taller than her husband, but he did not flinch, even at sight of the broom.

"What are you doing here?" he took a threatening step toward her.

"I was waiting for you, Otto."

"Well, I don't want you. I finished with you a good many years ago. There are just two things in my life now and they are my work and my emperor."

"Fudge!" exclaimed Mrs. von Minden, unexpectedly. "There's just two things in your life, just as there's always been, your work and your German cussedness. Otto, I want that strong box of yours. Give it to me and I'll go back to Phoenix."

Crazy Dutch gave an ugly laugh. "I'm likely to do that! What do you want of it?"

"If you won't let me take it, let me go through it. There is something in it I want."

"And what is that?" queried her husband.

"I don't know," replied Madam, very simply.

"You don't know?" roared Crazy Dutch.

"No, Otto, I don't know. The Yogis told me to come up and they told me that when I went through the papers I would recognize some that I wanted."

Von Minden turned appealingly to Roger and Ernest. "Have you any idea what she's talking about?"

Ernest shook his head.

"Wouldn't you like to go into the engine house to talk this over?" suggested Roger. "You'd have privacy there."

"Don't leave me alone with him," exclaimed Mrs. von Minden. "He's not safe."

"All right," said Roger. "I've searched him and now I'm going through his pack, and I shall confiscate any weapon I find."

"Don't you dare to give her my strong box," shouted Crazy Dutch.

"I'll put the box back where I find it," replied Roger. "Come on, Ern, begin."

It was a pitifully mean little pack, quite poverty stricken compared with Mrs. von Minden's. A woolen quilt and a Navajo, a coffee pot, frying pan and a small sack of sugar, a canteen, a flannel shirt and a pair of ragged socks, a gun, a small strong box, with a geological hammer, a barometer and a compass, comprised Peter's load.