"We don't know. That's what we're trying to find out. We have reckoned they had their hang-out here, but we haven't found it yet"
"How many are in this band of Border Bandits?" asked Butler.
"There are some that we don't know. We do know a few of them, however.
For instance, there's the Mexican, Espinoso, known as the 'Yellow Kid.'
Then there's Greg. Gonzales, a half-breed Mex bandit, and Willie Jones."
"Willie Jones! That's a funny name," laughed Stacy. "That doesn't sound very savage. I shouldn't be afraid of a fellow with a name like that."
"You would if you knew him. Willie is a dude. He dresses like a city fellow with all the frills he can pile on, and he has the manners of a city chap too. But you look out for Willie. There isn't a colder blooded man in the state than Willie Jones. He's quick as lightning on the gun and can hit a bull's-eye with his own eyes shut."
"If he is any worse than our prisoner over there, I don't think I care to make his acquaintance," replied Butler with a laugh.
"He is, young man. You'd know Dunk to be a bad man the first time you saw him. You wouldn't think it of Willie and by the time you get him sized up, it's too late to do you any good. I hope you don't meet with Willie and try to land him. If you do you'll be carried out on a litter, reduced to a pulp."
"Br—-r——r—-r!" shivered Chunky.
"Where—-where is this bad man supposed to hide himself?" asked the professor.
"I wish I knew," sighed the Ranger. "It would be worth a cold thousand dollars to me and perhaps some more. There's a price on Willie's head. But what's the use speculating about it? We'll get him some day, but he'll be a dead one when we do. I'd a sight rather capture him alive."