Half dazed by the fall against the wall and the blow of the huge body against him, Buffalo Bill yet recognized that he must cut, and once more he drove his knife deep into the shaggy hide. But to his joy he recognized that there was no need of his doing more, for the animal upon him was a dead weight, the first knife thrust had entered his heart, and the teeth that had been driven into the scout’s arm had not been closed upon it, for the mountain lion had sprung to a quick and sudden death, the keen blade catching, by an accident, just in the right spot to kill. Throwing off the weight, Buffalo Bill arose to his feet. Was it from the concussion that he had received that made strange figures appear before his eyes, or did he really behold a ghostly form, clad in white, at the end of the long, dark corridor, one arm pointing straight outward, the other down at the ground. “I’ll tackle you, too, for ghosts are more to my liking than mountain lions,” said Buffalo Bill grimly, and he rubbed his eyes to see that they were not deceiving him, and, drawing his revolver now he rushed forward to grapple with this new foe. But then, as he felt that it was no vision of the brain, but in reality a ghostly looking form, not fifty feet from him, he halted and called out in a voice that echoed through the corridor: “Hands up, there, or I’ll fire and kill you!” But the order was not obeyed, the form still standing mute and motionless, and pointing as before. Instantly came a red flash from the scout’s revolver, and a sharp report rang through the hacienda. CHAPTER XXXIV. HAUNTED. Buffalo Bill at once moved rapidly toward the spot where he had seen the white form. Twice he fired his revolver as he approached to light up the scene. But he saw nothing. The rear of the corridor had no egress, only a window some eight feet from the floor. Upon either side were doors, full a dozen feet from the end of the corridor, but one of these was closed too securely to open, and the other was the one he had entered the long hall from and led into the rooms he had selected for himself and comrades to dwell in. Not a particle of superstition had the scout, but here was a mystery he could not solve. How had the mountain lion got into that corridor? He had not entered by the door, for that was closed and locked on the other side. He could not have come through the window, even had he been able to leap that high, for it was closed. The other door was locked or bound on the other side, but to have come through that way it could only have been done with the aid of a human being. All the doors, save the one the scout had entered by, were closed. How, then, could the mountain lion have got into the corridor without human help, and who was the white-robed form at whom he fired?