He walked away to the rear of the room, Priest joined us, and we strolled out of the place. In the street, a grizzled, gray-bearded man, who had drunk with him inside, approached my bunkie and said, “You want to watch that fellow. He claims to be from the Gallatin country, but he isn’t, for I live there. There’s a pal with him, and they’ve got some good horses, but I know every brand on the headwaters of the Missouri, and their horses were never bred on any of its three forks. Don’t give him any the best of you. Keep an eye on him, comrade.” After this warning, the old man turned into the first open door, and we crossed over to the wheelwright’s shop; and as the wheel would not be finished for several hours yet, we continued our survey of the town, and our next landing was at The Buffalo Bull. On entering we found four of our men in a game of cards at the very first table, while Officer was reported as being in the gambling room in the rear. The only vacant table in the bar-room was the last one in the far corner, and calling for a deck of cards, we occupied it. I sat with my back to the log wall of the low one-story room, while on my left and fronting the door, Priest took a seat with Flood for his pardner, while Honeyman fell to me. After playing a few hands, Flood suggested that Billy go forward and exchange seats with some of our outfit, so as to be near the door, where he could see any one that entered, while from his position the rear door would be similarly guarded. Under this change, Rod Wheat came back to our table and took Honeyman’s place. We had been playing along for an hour, with people passing in and out of the gambling room, and expected shortly to start for camp, when Priest’s long-haired adversary came in at the front door, and, walking through the room, passed into the gambling department.