"You can keep your suspicions to yourself. But you can give me your idea
about this crowd that hangs round the saloons, the regulars."

"Jest a bad lot," replied Hoden, with the quick assurance of knowledge.
"Most of them have been here years. Others have drifted in. Some of them
work odd times. They rustle a few steer, steal, rob, anythin' for a
little money to drink an' gamble. Jest a bad lot!

"But the strangers as are always comin' an' goin'--strangers that never
git acquainted--some of them are likely to be _the_ rustlers. Bill an'
Bo Snecker are in town now. Bill's a known cattle-thief. Bo's no good,
the makin' of a gun-fighter. He heads thet way.

"They might be rustlers. But the boy, he's hardly careful enough for
this gang. Then there's Jack Blome. He comes to town often. He lives up
in the hills. He always has three or four strangers with him. Blome's
the fancy gun fighter. He shot a gambler here last fall. Then he was in
a fight in Sanderson lately. Got two cowboys then.

"Blome's killed a dozen Pecos men. He's a rustler, too, but I reckon
he's not the brains of thet secret outfit, if he's in it at all."

Steele appeared pleased with Hoden's idea. Probably it coincided with
the one he had arrived at himself.

"Now, I'm puzzled over this," said Steele. "Why do men, apparently
honest men, seem to be so close-mouthed here? Is that a fact or only my
impression?"