When Buffalo Bill gave up his profitless search and came out of the house he saw a mounted Indian ride up to the gate, some distance off, where he met John Latimer. The Indian was a painted and plumed specimen of his race, and, altogether, a glittering and jaunty figure, as he sat on his mustang, talking with Latimer. Only a few words were said by the two men, and then the Indian wheeled his mustang and galloped away, his feathers flying, and the sun shining with brilliant effect on his beaded garments and on the painted spots on his horse. Buffalo Bill had emerged from the big house by a side entrance. He hurried now round to the front, where he expected to meet Latimer returning from this talk with the redskin. Latimer had gone from the gate in another way, however; and the scout did not see him for several minutes, and then it was in the house itself. “What about that Indian, Latimer?” was his question. Latimer stared blankly. “What Indian?” he said. “Why, the one you met out there by the gate a while ago.” “I have seen no Indian!” said Latimer. The answer so took the scout aback that for a moment he was at a loss what to say. “I am sure, Latimer, I saw you out by the gate talking with a mounted Indian, not more than five minutes ago. I had just got to the steps, on the east side there, and saw the Indian ride up to the gate. You were there, and you spoke with him, and then he rode away.” An angry look flashed over Latimer’s face. “Cody,” he said quietly, “you are my guest here; and, therefore, I shall not try to call you to account for giving me the lie!” “You mean that I did not see you out there talking with an Indian?” “Certainly not.” “Then, Latimer, I saw your very image and counterpart!” “That may be, Cody. I can’t say as to that. You did not see me.” Latimer’s manner was strangely cold. “You did not even know there was an Indian out there?” “No.” “This is as strange as the singular disappearance of my friend Nomad.” “Don’t you think you are just a little given to imaginings, Cody? Pardon the suggestion. You saw your friend go into a room, which, according to your own story, he could not have gone into and got out of without your knowing it. And now you have seen me talking with an Indian by the front gate, when all the while I have been here in the house.” A certain sense of giddy bewilderment attacked the level-headed scout. Could he have been subject to hallucinations? The very suggestion was enough to give him a severe mental start. “Pardon me,” he said. “I was sure of those two things. But if you say you were not out there, of course I accept your statement. But I saw some one there that I took to be you.” Latimer laughed, and the frown vanished from his face. “That’s more like you, Cody! I have given you no occasion to think I would lie about a matter of that kind, or would have any occasion to deceive you.” “That is true,” the scout admitted. “There may have been no one out at the gate,” Latimer urged.