the best ones at the Half-Moon."

This foresight of his cowboy pleased the ranchman, and he commended
him heartily.

"You seem to have a pretty level head, Nails. What do you make of
these raids on my herd? This makes the third. It rather seems to
me as though the thieves had marked me for their particular victim."

"That's my idea exactly," declared the cowboy. "And that's what
makes me so sure Gus Megget had a hand in the raid."

"But what grudge has Megget against me?" asked Mr. Wilder in
surprise.

"You are the one who leased the Long Creek bottoms, aren't you?"
returned Nails, answering the question, Yankee fashion, by another.

"To be sure. But what has that to do with it?"

"Everything. Megget's been rustling cattle for years, and the Long
Creek bottoms were where he used to drive the cattle he'd lifted.
If any one jumped him, he could either cross the line into old Mex
or strike out for the mountains. Maybe you don't know it, but
there's a greaser just across the line--they call him Don
Vasquez--who makes a fat living buying stolen cattle. He's got
some old Indian remedy for making hair grow, and he cuts out the
old brands, makes hair grow out and then burns in his three
crosses."