The valley was an ideal retreat for an outlaw band operating on a big scale. Pursuit scarcely need be feared over the broken trails of the Rim Rock. And the open end of the valley could be defended against almost any number of men coming down the river. Access to Mexico was easy and quick. What puzzled Duane was how Bland got cattle down to the river, and he wondered if the rustler really did get rid of his stolen stock by use of boats. Duane must have idled considerable time up on the hill, for when he returned to the shack Euchre was busily engaged around the camp-fire. “Wal, glad to see you ain't so pale about the gills as you was,” he said, by way of greeting. “Pitch in an' we'll soon have grub ready. There's shore one consolin' fact round this here camp.” “What's that?” asked Duane. “Plenty of good juicy beef to eat. An' it doesn't cost a short bit.” “But it costs hard rides and trouble, bad conscience, and life, too, doesn't it?” “I ain't shore about the bad conscience. Mine never bothered me none. An' as for life, why, thet's cheap in Texas.” “Who is Bland?” asked Duane, quickly changing the subject. “What do you know about him?” “We don't know who he is or where he hails from,” replied Euchre. “Thet's always been somethin' to interest the gang. He must have been a young man when he struck Texas. Now he's middle-aged. I remember how years ago he was soft-spoken an' not rough in talk or act like he is now. Bland ain't likely his right name. He knows a lot. He can doctor you, an' he's shore a knowin' feller with tools. He's the kind thet rules men. Outlaws are always ridin' in here to join his gang, an' if it hadn't been fer the gamblin' an' gun-play he'd have a thousand men around him.” “How many in his gang now?” “I reckon there's short of a hundred now. The number varies. Then Bland has several small camps up an' down the river. Also he has men back on the cattle-ranges.” “How does he control such a big force?” asked Duane. “Especially when his band's composed of bad men. Luke Stevens said he had no use for Bland. And I heard once somewhere that Bland was a devil.” “Thet's it. He is a devil. He's as hard as flint, violent in temper, never made any friends except his right-hand men, Dave Rugg an' Chess Alloway. Bland'll shoot at a wink. He's killed a lot of fellers, an' some fer nothin'. The reason thet outlaws gather round him an' stick is because he's a safe refuge, an' then he's well heeled. Bland is rich. They say he has a hundred thousand pesos hid somewhere, an' lots of gold. But he's free with money. He gambles when he's not off with a shipment of cattle. He throws money around. An' the fact is there's always plenty of money where he is. Thet's what holds the gang. Dirty, bloody money!” “It's a wonder he hasn't been killed. All these years on the border!” exclaimed Duane. “Wal,” replied Euchre, dryly, “he's been quicker on the draw than the other fellers who hankered to kill him, thet's all.”