The thing that first arrested Buffalo Bill’s attention within the house was that the big, rambling structure was apparently without occupants. One servant had come to the door, to admit them--a Mexican of villainous aspect and slinking mien--but aside from this one Mexican not another soul was to be seen. “You appear to be quite alone here?” the scout suggested. “Yes,” Latimer admitted, “quite alone.” “You have been here alone from the first?” “Yes. I have had a number of servants, but none of them remained with me long. The place is too isolated, and too far from the towns. So, after a short time, in each instance, they departed. I have now only that Mexican, and the man you talked with. You seemed to know him, Cody? He came to me only yesterday. He’s a stranger to me, and may not be reliable; but I needed help so badly that I took him without asking him any questions.” “There is nothing mysterious about him,” the scout replied, as he passed through the long hall with Latimer to the latter’s rooms. “He is, in fact, as open as the day.” “Well, I’m sure I’m glad to hear it,” Latimer confessed, with an appearance of uneasiness. “I have more than once suspected that servants who have been here have been in alliance with the Redskin Rovers, or the road agents.” “Nomad is an old-trapper, who has been in the Western mountains more years than he can remember; and yet, in spite of the great age he claims--hear him tell it sometimes and you’d be ready to believe him a hundred years old--he is as spry as a young man, and as a dead shot with rifle or revolver he has not many equals. He has helped me in a number of scouting trips, and we’ve had some very interesting experiences together. It surprised me to find him here.” “Surprised you?” “That he should be doing menial work. But he explained that he found himself in hard luck, and was glad to take anything that offered. I was glad to see him. He is as a friend true as steel.” When they passed into the large rooms Latimer apologized for their apparent disorder. “You perhaps heard him boasting of his horse,” the scout continued, still speaking of Nick Nomad. “A bag of bones, Cody!” cried Latimer. “I wonder the brute can carry him.” “Yet a wonderful horse. According to Nomad, it is the most wonderful horse in America, or in the world. And it really is a beast of rare intelligence. He has so trained it that its actions at times seem almost human.” “My new hostler seems to be rather a wonderful man,” remarked Latimer, with a dry smile. “I shall have to have a talk with him myself.” “You will find that he is a wonderful man, if you ever are able to know him as thoroughly as I do,” was the scout’s answer. CHAPTER IV. PIZEN KATE FINDS HER HUSBAND.