A moment's silence, and then a streak of light showed where the front door had been opened a crack. "Sit quiet on that there hoss," a gruff voice commanded, "and lemme see if you _be_ Breckenbridge." "Hallo, Bill," the deputy sheriff answered. "Yes, it's me all right." And Curly Bill opened the door wider, revealing his burly form. "Put up yo'r pony in the corral," he said, "and come in." When Breckenbridge had complied with the last part of the invitation he found the bare room filled with men. The McLowery boys were there, two of them, and the Clantons. Half a dozen other outlaws were lounging about, and Curly Bill himself was looking none too pleasant as he nodded to the visitor. "Cain't tell who might come ridin' in these nights," he growled by way of explanation for his curt welcome. "Set up and eat a bite now yo' 're here." The lateness of the meal and the general dishevelment of the room's occupants made it clear to the guest that every one had been riding hard that day. It was an awkward moment and the constraint endured long after the last man had shoved back his chair and rolled his brown-paper cigarette. Curly Bill found an opportunity to get young Breckenbridge off to one side during the evening. "What's on yore mind?" he asked. The deputy told him. "The superintendent owns that horse," he explained, "and he's a good friend of mine. Not only that, but if I get it back it means a whole lot to the office; it'll put Behan solid with those people over at Contention, and that helps me." The outlaw nodded but made no remark by way of comment. Some time later he sat up at the oilcloth-covered table talking quietly with Frank McLowery. And Brenckenridge saw McLowery scowling. Then he felt reasonably sure who had stolen that blooded animal and who was going to bring it back to Tombstone in the morning. Bedding-rolls were being unlashed within the half-hour. McLowery brought Breckenbridge a pair of blankets. "Reckon you'll have to make down on the floor same as the rest of the boys," the outlaw growled and then, as if it were an afterthought, "That there boss yo' 're looking fer is near the ranch." And that was all the talk there was on the subject during the evening. But Breckenbridge spread his blankets and lay down among the rustlers serene in mind. Evidently the horse was going to be in his possession the next morning.