Not one of us closed an eye that night. I tossed to and fro, in vain speculating what was to be done if the uncanny thing reappeared. When at last morning dawned, I resolved to ride over to the trappers at the creek and get their advice. Soon after sunrise I started, and, after two hours’ ride, saw the shanty of my friends some little distance off. They came to meet me with their guns in their hands, ready to shoot. “Lucky for you that our eyes are accustomed to long range, and that the air is clear to-day, else either you or your horse would have a bullet between his bones now,” said the elder of the two trappers, as I reached them, holding out his hand in friendly greeting. “That’s so,” acquiesced the other, also shaking hands, but with a very solemn air. “Charlie is right. We were ready to shoot, but luckily saw our mistake in time.” “Since yesterday we have been on the watch. We’ve been fooled long enough, and mean to make an end to this infernal nonsense,” said the first trapper. “Has a singular-looking rider also paid you a visit?” I cried eagerly. The friends looked at each other in astonishment. “Do you know the beggar?” asked Jack quickly. “I don’t know him, but it is on his account that I’m here.” And I related our adventure, to which both listened attentively. “No doubt it’s the same fellow who got the best of us,” said Charlie; shaking his head. “Day before yesterday we saw him for the first time. He took no notice of us, and seemed to be deaf to our shots. About noon he and his miserable old horse stood there, just opposite our shanty. ‘Hello, what do you want?’ I called out. No answer. A minute afterward he was gone. In the evening he drew rein up there on the hill again. As he wouldn’t answer me, I lost patience, and got out my shooter, but before I could raise it, the fellow again disappeared. But I’m not going to be fooled to-day. I’ll send a bullet through him, or his horse.” I willingly accepted the trappers’ invitation to stay with them during the day. Our conversation turned almost exclusively on the mysterious stranger. In the afternoon I accompanied them to their traps, and while they were setting them I walked up and down with my gun in my hand. We had resolved as soon as the rider should reappear, to shoot his horse, and in that way get this singular creature into our hands. The day was drawing to a close, and the peaks of the mountains were dyed in the sunlight. “The fellow has a notion we’re going for him,” said Jack. “I shouldn’t be sorry if he slipped by us now, for I’m anxious to see what sort of----” He stopped suddenly, and the words seemed as if frozen to his lips as he stood staring at the rocks opposite the hut. There, on the top of the hills, clearly outlined against the red sky, was the ghostly rider. I also stood staring, spellbound, at the apparition. Then a shot rang out, and the horse fell forward.