Tom's straightforward manner appeared to impress all three men.
But the leader shrugged his shoulders.
"Ef ye aint no hoss thief, how is it ye hev got all these critters with ye?" he questioned triumphantly.
"I can explain that easily enough. That horse is my own, purchased in Gunnison from Ralph Verbeck the dealer there. Those horses belong to a set of rascals who captured me and made me their prisoner. I got away from them, and to prevent them from following me I took their horses with me."
"Hurmph! Thet's a slick story!"
"It's the plain truth. Do I look like a horse thief?"
"Not persackly, youngster. But two o' them hosses I know well, an' they war stolen. My pards hyer kin prove it."
"Well, I know nothing about that. I have told you the plain truth.
You don't claim the horse I said was mine, do you?"
"No. But wot's this tale ye tell of bein' captured?"
Anxious to set himself straight with these men, who appeared to be of upright character, Tom told the larger part of his story, to which the crowd listened patiently. Then they asked him a number of questions.
"I reckon you are O.K.," said the leader at last. "I know Jack Wumble, and I know he wouldn't be attached to a gang that wasn't on the level."