“I must be present,” said the disguised scout. “It would be Raven Feather’s wish if he were awake.” “Raven Feather must be present himself,” replied the Navaho. “Black Bison, the medicine man, cannot drive away the evil spirits without the presence of the chief.” The situation was again becoming serious. The Navaho would suspect the cheat if means were not immediately taken to hoodwink him. Buffalo Bill thought rapidly. “I will go to the medicine man,” he said gravely, “and tell him that Raven Feather, overcome by his great sorrow, is sleeping. The mind of the chief was distracted when he talked with Crow-killer. Raven Feather forgot that Crow-killer did not know that the white maiden had died; he forgot, also, that he had promised to assist Black Bison.” It was lucky for the disguised scout that the Navaho was of a low order of intelligence. The explanation was accepted, and Buffalo Bill, immensely relieved, strode toward the tepee into which the medicine man and the squaws had just entered. On the way he passed a number of braves, who were gazing curiously at the tepee of the proposed incantation. The false Crow-killer did not speak to any one of them, but he did not fail to note with relief that they looked at him without surprise. At the door of the tepee he halted. The bearskin flap had been pushed aside and secured so that a clear view of the interior could be obtained. Upon a pile of skins in a corner lay the body of Myra Wilton. Buffalo Bill could see the face, and a chill came over his spirits. This, then, was the end of his quest; this the termination of Carl Henson’s romance. At the feet of the body stood the dwarf medicine man, and squatted on the floor in front of the body were the squaws. The medicine man was muttering some strange words, when the disguised scout uttered a low hiss. The muttering quickly ceased, and Black Bison looked up with a start. He saw the tall, muscular figure in the doorway, and took note of the beckoning finger. In an instant he was at the side of the false Crow-killer. Lowering his head and speaking hoarsely, and just above a whisper, the scout informed the medicine man that Raven Feather was ill and could not come to the tepee of death. But could not the chief’s brother, Crow-killer, take the place of the chief? Crow-killer was sure that the substitution could be made with success; only, for Crow-killer had had a message from the Great Spirit, the squaws must be sent away. Black Bison was filled with wonder. What had the Great Spirit said to Crow-killer?