It was a shapeless mass, anyway, or seemed to be, perhaps distorted by the moonlight and its own shadow. From all the scout could make out it might be a small haystack or a cord of wood out for a ramble. With rifle ready, for the scout was suspicious of this peculiarity, he watched the thing approach the very edge of the precipice and pause. There it rested, minute after minute, as motionless as the rock itself, until the scout began to wonder if it had not all been an optical illusion, and that he had been glaring at a great bowlder perched on the brink of the abyss. The scout rubbed his eyes, glanced away for a moment, and then looked back. Again he was surprised into a smothered exclamation. The thing had grown a head. But its head was in proportion to its size as that of a turtle. And it had grown out of the flat top of the body--it was still growing. The head was followed by a pair of human shoulders, and then an arm was raised aloft, and in the hand was an object plainly outlined against the sky. It was the head, shoulders, and arms of a man, and the arm was about to hurl something into the bushes far below. Like lightning the scout’s rifle went into position, and just as the arm launched its missile there was a sharp crack, followed instantly by a thunderous roar and blinding flash at the crest of the mountain. When the smoke had cleared away and the scout’s eyes became accustomed to the moonlight again, he saw that the strange craft of the clifftop had been wrecked. And out of the wreck an animated object was moving along the bare rock. Then the moving thing sprang into a human form and ran along the rocks for a short distance to disappear where the strange object had first appeared to the scout. Buffalo Bill had again raised his rifle, but lowered it with a chuckle. “Guess Bloody Ike got a surprise party that time,” he said. Down below old Nomad sang out: “Are ye all right, Buffler?” “Yes; go to sleep again. I don’t think you will be disturbed again to-night.” The scout climbed to the top of the rock and examined the wreck. It had been a hogshead heavily padded with cotton waste and blankets in an attempt at bullet-proof construction. Holes in the ends had been sawn out below for the feet of the occupant and in the top for a peep hole, and from which to shoot or hurl missiles. Bloody Ike had attempted to throw a bomb into the camp of his enemies, and Buffalo Bill’s bullet had caught it just as it left the rascal’s hand. The explosion had destroyed the bullet-proof craft. CHAPTER XII. THE MYSTERY OF THE MOUNTAINTOP. When Price’s henchmen brought back word that Buffalo Bill had slipped out of their trap, and made good his escape, and they could not tell in what direction, that worthy was in a savage state of mind. “Why didn’t you drop ’im from the saddle without any warning when he went by?” “We tried it, but his horse jumped just as we pulled, and then ran.” “Well, where was your trip rope that we planned?”