Still another day and another went by, and each night brought the scouts farther and farther into a most beautiful country, yet one that thus far had been most fatal to all palefaces venturing there, lured to risk life and untold hardships and suffering in search of the yellow dross that buys men so readily, body and soul. Buffalo Bill once owed his life to Don Miller when he was a scout, and liked the man; but he had given up scouting, and had gone to lawless gold hunting in the Big Horn, and the report had come that his whole party had been massacred; but Cody was only glad that his friend had escaped. Noon the next day brought them to a perfect garden spot in the Big Horn Mountains. The springs were as clear as crystal and as cold as ice, the trees grand, and the little valleys most inviting for a camp. Black Bill boldly asserted that the Indians would never come there, that they believed these mountains the abode of the evil spirits. Buffalo Bill knew, in spite of Miller’s protestations and nerve, that Don was not yet well, but good food, rest, and bathing in these springs would help him; so he decided to go regularly into camp there. They need have no dread of Indians there, and they had left no trail to be followed easily. They would halt there, for the men needed the rest, and he and Black Bill would take short searches to try and find the Lost Valley and its mysterious people. Several times in the last day the giant negro had halted and regarded his surroundings in a fixed way. He seemed to be trying to recall some feature in the landscape as though he had seen it before. It had been two months and more since he was there before, if he had passed that way in his wanderings, and then the trees were bright green, in midsummer. Now they were changing to autumn tints, and, as is well known, this changed the whole aspect of the country. The springs the negro had not seen, though there were people from the Lost Valley who had been there. “Black Bill has been near here before, I feel certain, Sergeant Buck, and our plan is to scout about the mountains until we strike some locality familiar to him.” “Yes, chief, that is just it, sir.” “We can all have a rest, and Miller is really not well yet.” “No, sir, and it is not any wonder, when you think them red devils had his hands tied behind him during all their retreat, and his legs so tightly bound that the flesh was cut into.” “Yes; but he will rally quickly here and soon will be well. “He is a brave and noble-hearted man, if he did break the law by invading this country as a gold boomer.” “He is all you say of him, chief, and the boys are very much attached to him, sir. “Then, too, sir, he’s another strong arm and brave heart, if we get into trouble, which I now believe we will not, as Black Bill seems to be a terror the redskins won’t face,” said Sergeant Buck. “But will you pick the camp?” “Yes.” The spot selected was all that could be wished.