Buffalo Bill pointed to the belt of arms the man wore. He was attired half in Mexican, half in frontier garb, and his face was an evil one. Also, about his waist was a buckskin belt that contained several hundred dollars in gold.
“Well, Jack, we need not report the killing of this man, at least just yet. We will wait and see if we hear of it, and, if so, the man who makes it known we will spot. I trust, now, the boys will not fear ghosts any more.”
“I hope not, chief.”
“Send each one of them here to have a look for himself, and they will know that I was right when I said an effort would be made to scare us away from here.
“As we did not scare, they will try some other plan to get rid of us; but, one thing is certain, that these men have some way of entering and leaving the hacienda we do not know of, but must find out.
“You see there is not a sound now, for they know that one of their spirits has come to grief.”
Texas Jack went out after the men, and they all took a look at the “ghost,” made their comments, saw where the bullet of the chief had struck him in the head, and then the body was put in a vacant room, a guard placed in the grounds, at the gate, and the rest of the scouts returned to their blankets, Pinto Paul remarking:
“Well, I take no more stock in ghosts, though I don’t just love this old owl’s nest.”
The night passed away without much sleep for a few of the scouts. There was not another sound heard in the hacienda, and the horses and cattle quieted down. This proved to the men that they had been frightened by the white-robed form going about among them.