Up to the time they were ready to lie down and get some sleep, the racket still kept up over at the village. It seemed as though the Indians were bound to wind up their gala time with a grand hurrah. No doubt on the next day they would have relapsed once more into their ordinary prosy state of existence. Just as he had said, Billie seemed to have no trouble whatever in going to sleep, and Donald, who also lay down while Adrian took the first watch, really envied him the ease with which he passed away into dreamland. There was nothing occurred to disturb them all the night through, and both sentries managed to secure a fair amount of rest before dawn came. During the day that followed they saw the other visitors and their guides take their departure. The three chums purposely delayed leaving until the afternoon had well advanced, for they did not mean to get a great distance away by nightfall, since they expected to retrace their steps, returning to the side of the Sacred Mountain. Having marked the spot well where the cliff arose, which they knew concealed the secret tunnel the medicine man seemed to use in entering the mountain, they felt sure they could easily find it again, when the time came for action. Billie succeeded in securing a few more snapshots to complete his collection; and was very happy over his success. In fact, the only cloud upon the horizon, so far as Billie was concerned, lay in his inability to guess the identity of the mysterious party who had three times done them such a favor. If he was one of the cowboys who had been present to witness the snake-dance, why would he not have admitted as much before leaving the village? Billie had taken particular pains to be in the society of these fellows more or less during the morning before they went away, and not by the faintest sign did any one of them give him a hint that he might be the good friend. The mystery was as dark as ever, it seemed; and Billie wondered very much as to whether he would ever know the truth. “If Adrian keeps his word,” he said to himself, as he sat there, pondering the aggravating matter all over, “we’ll just as like as not be starting for Wyoming soon after we hit the Keystone Ranch country; for he’s getting wild to set eyes on his own cattle ranch up there, that his Uncle Fred Comstock has been running so long. And if that comes about, why, I reckon, then, I’ll never know just who to thank for all these splendid favors.” Whenever he tried to picture this unknown friend Billie always seemed to have in mind some sort of splendid looking man, who was just amusing himself going around doing good wherever he found a chance. And it grieved him very much to realize that his chances of ever thanking him were growing less and less all the time.