There was a moment of suspense, but then the herd calmed down, as all the scouts, thoroughly trained cattlemen, began to sing to them. Then Texas Jack went to the aid of Buffalo Bill, calling out as he advanced: “Winfield stands guard with several men in the hacienda, and I came to see who fired that shot, chief.” “I did. There is a dead ghost lying yonder, and I hope it will end this fool dread of spooks,” was Buffalo Bill’s reply. Seeing that the cattle were being quieted by the scouts, Texas Jack walked toward the white object lying thirty feet away, at the foot of the high wall. “Well, Jack, it’s a flesh ghost, isn’t it?” called out Buffalo Bill, as he saw his pard bend over it. “It is, sir, and I’ll call several of the men to guard the gate while we carry it up to the hacienda to have a look at it.” “Do so.” Several men at once came at the call, among them Pinto Paul. “There’s the ghost, Pinto Paul; at least, he is more ghost now than he was a short while ago,” said Texas Jack. “What is it?” he asked, in an awed way. “A dead man, now, who was playing ghost a while since. He did not know that I was on duty at the gate there, for he heard Broncho Rawlings singing, and supposed he was alone on watch. “As the ghost was trying to take down the barrier, to let the cattle out, I held him up, but, as he did not heed, I fired on him. I did not fire to kill, but to wing him, but just as I pulled trigger he fell into a hole I remember is there, and caught the bullet in a vital spot. But it shows that spirits can be killed, Pinto.” The scout made no reply, for he was beginning to see that if the hacienda was haunted it must be by flesh and blood of ghostly forms. “I’ll give you a hand, Jack,” said Buffalo Bill. But the Texan dragged the white form out of the gully into which he had fallen, and shouldered it without an effort. As he moved off toward the hacienda Buffalo Bill joined him, calling out to the scouts to keep the cattle quiet, while he went to investigate the ghost in the glare of the light. 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.