"And you think he may come here?"
"As likely here as anywhere else," Jeb said soberly.
"But how does he get away with that sort of thing?" Jack asked. "I mean, what does he do with all the cattle he steals?"
"Well, that's what more than one man around here would like to know," Jeb replied. "But he doubtless had a place somewhere up in the hills where he drove them. Then he would change the brands, blot them, we call it, and as soon as the new brands were healed, he probably would drive them over the line into Mexico and sell them. Many a week have I spent along with others trying to find his hiding place, but, although we combed the territory with a fine toothed comb, so to speak, we never found it Some of the old timers around here believe that he's in league with the devil and hanged if it didn't look very much like it sometimes."
"Did you ever see this Hains?" Bob asked.
"Once. I met him face to face on the trail up in the hills. I knew him right away from the descriptions I had heard of him. He's a big man, well over six feet and must weigh all of two hundred and fifty pounds. But his most distinguishing feature is his bright red hair which he wears long after the fashion of the old Indian scouts."
"And what happened?" Bob asked as the other paused.
"Well, as luck would have it, I had my gun in my hand at the time and when I saw him reach for his I knew that it was one or the other of us, so I fired point blank and him not more than ten feet away. Then the next thing I knew I didn't know anything. They found me several hours later lying in the trail and after considerable fussing finally brought me round. Seems that his bullet has creased my forehead and, seeing me drop from my horse, he had ridden off supposing that he had killed me. You can see the scar now," he added, pushing the hair back from his forehead. "But what gets me is how I could have missed him at only ten feet and I'm considered a fair shot around here."
"Fair shot! He's won the championship eight years running. That's how fair a shot he is," Sue told them proudly.
"Was it possible that your gun missed fire?" Jack asked.