Buffalo Bill, with his blanket and head feathers, could more readily fool them. Hence he rode slowly toward the Indians, and when one of them spoke to him, he answered in Cheyenne of such excellence that the redskin was thoroughly deceived. In order to determine if the girl was a prisoner, he rode into the very midst of the chattering group, and looked about as well as he could. “Where is the Wolf Soldier and the white squaw?” he asked, with characteristic boldness. They did not know. Some of the Indians were still out on the prairie, and were riding in. The scout stayed with the chattering redskins, hearing their wild talk and speculations; and was amused by hearing the Cheyenne he had spoken to some time before make the startling suggestion that the strange attack had been made by spirits of the Moonlight Mountains. Red Wing, who was rather an intelligent Indian, scoffed at this, but some of the others were ready to accept the idea. It accounted for the singularity of the attack, which had begun so strangely and ended as suddenly and mysteriously as it had begun. The scout saw some of the absent Cheyennes come in, and listened to their reports. They were of a laughable character; for they reported seeing strange sights and hearing strange sounds; and one even declared that he had seen a headless white man galloping round on a gray pony. As Wild Bill’s pony was gray in color, and he had stooped low to keep from being seen, Buffalo Bill understood what gave rise to the Indian’s fancy of a headless white man on a gray horse. This report made the more superstitious of the Cheyennes ready to accept the theory that the wild attack had been really the work of mischievous spirits from the near-by mountains. Some of them looked off in the direction of the mountains, showing fear of them and a desire to remove themselves from their vicinity. Confident that the Cheyennes knew nothing of the whereabouts of the girl, or of the Wolf Soldier, Buffalo Bill dropped behind as they moved on in a body, and succeeded in getting safely out of their dangerous company. Then he returned quietly toward the point where he had left Wild Bill. “I’m looking for a headless horseman!” he said, when he rejoined his head. Then he explained, to the great amusement of his pard. But Stevens was still missing. “What next?” asked Wild Bill. “I don’t know.” “I’m feeling jubilant, so far as I’m individually concerned,” Wild Bill admitted, “and you’ll agree that I’ve a reason; for a little while ago I was a bound prisoner of those red devils, and they were talking about the fun they were going to have in torturing me as soon as they joined their friends. And now I’m free, with you, old pard; and I’ve got a good revolver, and a good horse under me. If it was the proper thing, I think I could do a little yelling, just for purpose of celebrating the great event.” But he did nothing of the kind.