The man whom Buffalo Bill had come to Eldorado to meet appeared in the town some time after this spectacular entrance of Pizen Kate, and sought the famous scout, in the latter’s room at the hotel. The name of this man was John Latimer. He lived in isolated grandeur in a big house on Crested Mesa, for the benefit of his health, he said, which had been weakened by the damp and trying climate of the East. He was an elderly man, of impressive appearance; gray-haired and gray-bearded. His eyes were gray, and were overhung by bushy gray eyebrows. He dressed neatly, in the Eastern fashion, and seemed very much out of place in this wild border country, at that time. These things Buffalo Bill noted, as John Latimer came into the room, shook hands, and took the chair placed for him. “Ah, Cody!” he said. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come, even though I had made my complaint so strong.” “Your appeals stirred the colonel of the regiment at Fort Sinclair, and he told me to come out here and look into the thing and report to him at once; and he gave me authority, likewise, to send for a company of men, or even to organize a company of border riflemen on my own account, for quick action, if I thought necessary.” “Very good!” said Latimer. “That pleases me. You shall have all the proofs you want.” “I’ve already been getting some of them, on my way here.” “You heard of that last raid made by the road agents on the Double Bar Ranch?” said Latimer. “Yes.” “And the attack of the Redskin Rovers on the treasure train which a week ago came out of the Bighorn Hills?” “I heard of that, too. You have means of knowing something of the movements of these men?” “Very little. The Redskin Rovers puzzle me.” “Are they really Indians, or are they white men disguised as Indians?” “Genuine Indians, I think.” “Perhaps led by white men?” “Perhaps so.” “They haven’t troubled you lately?” “Not lately.” “Nor the white road agents?” “They shot one of my herders less than a week ago. I believe they thought him a miner with gold. He was dressed somewhat like a miner, and he was coming out of the hills with filled saddle pouches. But the pouches held only some mineral specimens I had asked him to get for me. That trip cost him his life, poor fellow.” “You know where that place is? We can, perhaps, find their trail there even yet.” “You are ready to go with me, Cody?” “That’s what I came for.” “And I came in to get you and take you out to my place.” “You spoke of your herder. Are you running a cattle ranch?” “Not a ranch; but I keep a few, a very few, cattle. I am living there simply for the benefit of my health.” His clear skin, the breadth of his shoulders, his general look of good health, in spite of gray hairs and gray beard, did not indicate that his health needed any especial care, as the scout noted. “When will you go, Cody?” he asked. “Any time. Now, if you like.” “Now it is, then. We’ll start as soon as you can get ready.” “I am ready.”