That any other demonstration would be made in the hacienda than the weird sounds already heard, Buffalo Bill did not believe, so he decided that he would keep his stand at the gate and let Rawlings guard the cattle, singing to them to quiet them.
The moment the others had walked away, Buffalo Bill had quickly crouched down in the shadow of the wall, just at the entrance. He heard no sound save the impatient tramping of the horses, the singing of Broncho Rawlings, and an anxious lowing of a frightened steer.
An hour passed, and he saw that the horses were becoming more restless.
A moment after his keen eyes detected a white object running along the wall. It came from the corner where the horses were.
Keeping his position, Buffalo Bill watched the white object as he could distinctly see it.
The song of Broncho Rawlings was still kept up, and the cattle, too, became restive in spite of the lulling notes of the melody.
“Broncho soothes them, but if I attempted to sing to them I’d stampede the whole outfit, yes, scouts and all,” said Buffalo Bill, with a full realization that music was not one of his accomplishments.
The chief of scouts was upon the opposite side, crouching in the shadow of the massive adobe column on either side of the entrance.
The white figure came straight toward him, and had Pinto Paul been where Buffalo Bill was, he would have stampeded with alacrity.
The white figure did not seem to be able to see well, for the scout had not been discovered yet.