He had learned from the baron that the apparent gold seen everywhere so plentifully was not all what it seemed—was badly debased with a big percentage of copper, but this representation of the sun, like the smaller one he had found, seemed to him to be pure gold, and no doubt it was. When conducted into the room that was at one side of the main entrance he found that it resembled a small sanctuary, and this was further borne out by the robed figure that stood at its farther end, close by a fire which burned red on a brazier of gold. The robed figure had been feeding the fire, and an aromatic smell arose, showing that herbs had been burning. The thing that astonished Buffalo Bill was that in a glittering seat close by the robed figure sat Toltec Tom. And when the robed figure turned to face the scout on his entrance he beheld the face of a woman of fifty years or more—a white woman surely—whose years had not yet been able to obliterate the undoubted beauty of her youth. Her robes were of white skin. The scout judged them to be dressed deerskins, tanned to a snowy whiteness. Her arms were bare, and on them were loops of gold whose flattened sides showed the sun image. In her ears were earrings—pendants—also showing that representation of the sun, and the front of the shining brazier showed the same. With his Indian guards crowding in behind him, Buffalo Bill halted when he beheld Tom Conover and the woman. He looked accusingly at Conover, and saw the red flush deepen in Conover’s face and crimson in the scar on his forehead. The woman looked up from the fire and beckoned to the scout, pushing out a footstool in front of her, indicating that he was to sit on it. The doorway closed, but the Indian guards were on the inside, and they held their lances in readiness. “This seems queer to you, Cody!” said Conover, trying vainly to smile. “But you’ll understand it better, maybe, and then you’ll not think so hard of me, perhaps.” The woman paid no heed to this, but kept her dark eyes fixed on the face of the scout as he came slowly forward and took the stool. Then she sat down, leaning back into the arms of a chair that was graced with a panther skin. “There are some things that it is unpleasant to try to understand,” was Buffalo Bill’s comment, in response to the words of Conover. The light of the fire reddened the white robes of the woman and gave a ruddy tinge to the cheek she turned toward it. She sat looking earnestly at the scout for a moment without speaking, and when she spoke her words were clipped and broken, showing that she had difficulty in using the language. “It is very hard for me to say the Ainglish,” she declared, “and I know not hardly why it should be said, for all is fixed that you and your friends go not out of this place, but it is for him to please,” she nodded to Conover, “and he will tell you more things than what it is in my power to tell.”