g the bar to delve into this mystery, they found the outlaw's
pony stretched out beside the hitching-rack near the rear of the
building. The owner cast one glance at the dead animal; then his eyes
went to a shattered window.

"'Twas when I shot that cup from Shorty's hand."

He shrugged his big shoulders and, with a grin--

"Plenty more good ponies in the valley--and the nights are moonlight
now."

When they were back facing the battered bar young Breckenbridge
explained, his business in no-man's-land.

"And this end of the county," he wound up, "is sort of rough. If I'd
ride around alone, packing that money, somebody's liable to get the
best of me when I'm not looking for it. I've got to have a good man
along to help take care of that roll. And I'd admire to have you make
the trip with me."

Curly Bill was a great deal slower at thinking than he was at drawing
his gun and there was much food for thought in that bold proposition.
He gazed at young Breckenbridge for some moments in silence. Gradually
his lips relaxed. Smiling, he turned and addressed the occupants of
the room.

"Boys," he cried, "line up."

And when the line was formed before the bar he waved his hand.

"This here's the deputy sheriff, come to collect the taxes in our end
of the county; and I aim to help him do the job up right."

By what means Curly Bill supplied himself with a new pony this
chronicler does not know. But it is a fact that the outlaw rode forth
from Galeyville the next day along with Johnny Behan's deputy, to
guide the latter through the Sulphur Springs valley and the San
Simon--and to guard the county's funds.

Travel was slow in those days; accommodations were few and far
between. Outlaw and deputy jogged down the long, glaring flats
enshrouded in the dust-fog which rose from their ponies' hoofs; mile
after mile of weary riding under a scorching sun. They climbed by
winding trails through narrow canyons where the heat-waves jigged
endlessly among the naked rocks. They camped by lonely water-holes and
shared each other's blankets under the big yellow stars.

By day they watched the sky-line seeking the slightest sign of moving
forms; by night they kept their weapons within easy reach and slept
lightly, awakening to the smallest sound. They scanned the earth for
tracks and, when they found them, read them with the suspicion born of
knowledge of the country's savagery.

And sometimes other riders came toward them out of t