"You Dutchers," said Hondo Bill, his voice swelling with fine
contempt, "make me plenty tired. Hirin' out your kids to work when
they ought to be playin' dolls in the sand. You're a hell of a sect of
people. I reckon we'll fix your clock for a while just to show what we
think of your old cheesy nation. Here, boys!"

Hondo Bill parleyed aside briefly with his band, and then they seized
Fritz and conveyed him off the road to one side. Here they bound him
fast to a tree with a couple of lariats. His team they tied to another
tree near by.

"We ain't going to hurt you bad," said Hondo reassuringly. "'Twon't
hurt you to be tied up for a while. We will now pass you the time of
day, as it is up to us to depart. Ausgespielt--nixcumrous, Dutchy.
Don't get any more impatience."

Fritz heard a great squeaking of saddles as the men mounted their
horses. Then a loud yell and a great clatter of hoofs as they galloped
pell-mell back along the Fredericksburg road.

For more than two hours Fritz sat against his tree, tightly but not
painfully bound. Then from the reaction after his exciting adventure
he sank into slumber. How long he slept he knew not, but he was at
last awakened by a rough shake. Hands were untying his ropes. He was
lifted to his feet, dazed, confused in mind, and weary of body.
Rubbing his eyes, he looked and saw that he was again in the midst of
the same band of terrible bandits. They shoved him up to the seat of
his wagon and placed the lines in his hands.