"How?" snapped the fellow, his dull eyes brightening.
"Just close the transom over my door and I'll tell you. That's it, now draw your chair up closer to mine. What I'm going to say is for your ears alone."
Wondering what scheme had been evolved in his father's brain, the youth obeyed.
"Did you notice anything about the horse that brown bearded man rode?" whispered the storekeeper.
"No," returned Fred, more mystified than ever.
"Where are your eyes, boy? That horse is the living image of my roan mare, Betty!"
As the elder Consollas breathed the significant words, he scanned the face of his son for some gleam of intelligence.
Several moments the youth blinked his eyes, then slowly they shone with the light of understanding and excitedly he exclaimed:
"They stole the horse, you mean?"