“It may be an outlaws’ retreat.” “The place may be haunted.” Some laughed, some did not, others looked grave, and said nothing. The superstitions of a few had been aroused. But into the walled-in plaza rode the scouts, followed by the wagon, and there stood Buffalo Bill, but his left sleeve was stained with blood, his face had a bruise upon it, and he had the appearance of one who had been in a terrible struggle. “Boys,” he said calmly, “make yourselves at home, for I am master here.” Telling Texas Jack where to halt the cattle and horses, to have a guard of several men over them, and then come on with the others and the wagon and animals. The chief of scouts had cantered on alone to the hacienda. As he approached it, he saw that all appeared there as he had left it a month before. To him it looked as though no one had visited the place, and he saw not even a skulking coyote. This put him on his guard, for he knew that when he had visited the place first many coyotes had run out. Now, having found none about, he at once concluded that some one had been there within the last few minutes. So he was on his guard. Leaving his horse in the grounds, he entered the hacienda. It was a large structure, one story in height, built of adobe, and in the center was a square towerlike structure, with a top that looked very much as though the whole space within the walls, several acres in area, could be swept by even revolvers in the hands of persons stationed there on the tower roof. In the rear was a lofty cliff. It commanded, too, a wide range with rifles, and that it was intended for a stronghold there was no doubt in the scout’s mind. There were about thirty rooms in the building, some furnished with chairs and bedsteads, but of all else the place had been swept clean. Selecting the rooms that were to be their quarters, and being glad to see that the place within the walls would readily hold all their horses and cattle in an emergency when the entrance was repaired, Buffalo Bill was passing out through a long and dimly lighted corridor, when he beheld before him what appeared to be two diamonds glittering in the half darkness. But he was not deceived, he had seen just such balls of fire often before in his eventful life, and he was as quick as a flash in dropping his hand upon a weapon in his belt. It was his knife, and he had just time to draw it and raise the point, when, with a savage growl there sprang upon him a huge mountain lion. The weight of the animal hurled Buffalo Bill backward, and he fell against the rough wall with considerable force, bruising his face badly, while he also felt the teeth of the mad animal buried in his arm. But he had got his knife on guard, and the long, sharp blade had cut into the heart of the lion, the force of the spring driving it to the hilt.