Arriving at the hacienda, Texas Jack deposited his load before the fire, and lighted a couple of lanterns, while Buffalo Bill walked to the corridor where Winfield was on guard.
“Well, Winfield, how goes it?”
“All quiet, now, sir; but that shrieking was a bloodcurdler, even to me, and I feared it would stampede some of the boys along with the cattle.”
“No, we headed them off. But keep your ears open for the slightest sounds, now, though I do not believe we will have any more disturbances. The ghost is laid, I think.”
So saying, Buffalo Bill returned to the large room.
The fire had been brightened up, and, with the light of several lanterns, the room was very light.
Texas Jack had laid the form upon the floor before the fire, and, with a couple of the men who had come in, was standing looking at it. It was clad in a white garment, made to resemble a shroud, and the head was also wrapped around, though two holes had been made for the eyes to peer through. On each side, near the belt, there were two slits, through which the arms could be thrust.
The white covering was taken from the form by Buffalo Bill and Texas Jack, and a dark, foreign face was exposed.
“It is a Mexican,” said Texas Jack.
“Yes, and he came to kill, if need be.”