urely closing in upon the train. Off there to the left
the outlaws were keeping pace with him, but as yet they were making no
attempt to lessen the distance between them. He came up with the last
wagon, turned off the road beside it, and had the clumsy covered
vehicle between him and the rustlers. Then he dismounted.

The wagons kept on moving; now and again the teamsters glanced toward
him curiously. He barely heeded them save to see that they made no
sign to the now invisible outlaws. It took all the skill that he owned
to keep both his horses walking while he unsaddled the one and threw
the saddle upon the other. But at last the change was made and he
flung himself upon the thoroughbred's back. Shouting to the nearest
teamster to lead the abandoned pony back to Tombstone, he put spurs to
his fresh mount and came out in the road ahead of the foremost span of
leaders on a dead run.

There were six of the outlaws and they were less than half a mile
away. Breckenbridge had been out of sight behind the wagons just a
little too long to suit them and they were cutting in toward the road
now at top speed.

From the beginning it was a stern chase and they had only one hope of
winning. Nothing less swift than a bullet could ever catch that
thoroughbred. They pulled up at once and began shooting. But although
some of the slugs from their rifles came uncomfortably close none
found its mark and Breckenbridge was fast drawing away from them.
However, they were not the men to give up so long as there was any
chance remaining, and they swung back into their saddles to "burn up
the road" in his wake.

Now all hands settled down to make a long race of it, and it was not
until he was climbing the first slopes toward South Pass in the
Dragoon Mountains that Breckenbridge looked back for the last time
and saw the shapes of those six horsemen diminishing in the distance
as they jogged back toward the McLowery ranch.

So through the good-will of Curly Bill young Breckenbridge recovered
the thoroughbred from the man who had stolen it and brought it to
Tombstone without being obliged to reach for his own gun. And moreover
there were no hard feelings about it when he rode back into
no-man's-land the next time. So far as Frank McLowery and the Clanton
boys were concerned the incident was closed. The deputy had won out
and that was all there was to it.

As a matter of fact only a month or so later a horse-thief from
Lincoln County, New