[Transcriber's note: Extensive research found no evidence that the U. S. Copyright on this publication was renewed. ]

Kid Wolf Of Texas

A Western Story

By

WARD M. STEVENS

CHELSEA HOUSE

79 Seventh Avenue, New York, N. Y. 

PUBLISHERS

Kid Wolf Of Texas

Copyright, 1930, by CHELSEA HOUSE

Printed in the U. S. A. 

All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages, including the Scandinavian. 

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 I. THE LIVING DEAD II. A THANKLESS TASK III. THE GOVERNOR'S ANSWER IV. SURPRISES V. THE CAMP OF THE TERROR VI. ON THE CHISHOLM TRAIL VII. MCCAY'S RECRUIT VIII. ONE GAME HOMBRE IX. THE NIGHT HERD X. TUCUMCARI'S HAND XI. A BUCKSHOT GREETING XII. THE S BAR SPREAD XIII. DESPERATE MEASURES XIV. AT DON FLORISTO'S XV. GOLIDAY'S CHOICE XVI. A GAME OF POKER XVII. POT SHOTS XVIII. ON BLACKSNAKE'S TRAIL XIX. THE FANG OF THE WOLF XX. BATTLE ON THE MESA XXI. APACHES XXII. THE RESCUE XXIII. TWO OPEN GRAVES XXIV. PURSUIT XXV. BLIZZARD'S CHARGE

KID WOLF OF TEXAS

CHAPTER I

THE LIVING DEAD

 "Oh, I want to go back to the Rio Grande! The Rio! That's where I long to be!"

The words, sung in a soft and musical tenor, died away and changed to aplaintive whistle, leaving the scene more lonely than ever. For a fewmoments nothing was to be seen except the endless expanse ofwilderness, and nothing was to be heard save the mournful warble of thesinger. Then a horse and rider were suddenly framed where the sparsetimber opened out upon the plain. 

Together, man and mount made a striking picture; yet it would have beenhard to say which was the more picturesque--the rider or the horse. The latter was a splendid beast, and its spotless hide of snowy whiteglowed in the rays of the afternoon sun. With bit chains jingling, itgracefully leaped a gully, landing with all the agility of a mountainlion, in spite of its enormous size. 

The rider, still whistling his Texas tune, swung in theconcha-decorated California stock saddle as if he were a part of hishorse. He was a lithe young figure, dressed in fringed buckskin, touched here and there with the gay colors of the Southwest and ofMexico. 

Two six-guns, wooden-handled, were suspended from a cartridge belt ofcarved leather, and hung low on each hip. His even teeth showed whiteagainst the deep sunburn of his face. 

"Reckon we-all bettah cut south, Blizzahd, " he murmured to his horse. "We haven't got any business on the Llano. "

He spoke in the soft accents of the old South, and yet his speech wascolored with just a trace of Spanish--a musical drawl seldom heard farfrom that portion of Texas bordering the Rio Bravo del Norte. 

Wheeling his mount, he searched the landscape with his keen blue eyes. Behind him was broken country; ahead of him was the terrible land thatmen have called the Llano Estacado. The land rose to it in a longseries of steppes with sharp ridges. 

Queerly shaped and oddly colored buttes ascended toward it in apuzzling tangle. Dim in the distance was the Llano itself--a mesa witha floor as even as a table; a treeless plain without even a weed orshrub for a landmark; a plateau of peril without end. 

The rider was doing well to avoid the Llano Estacado. Outlaw Indianbands roamed over its desolate expanse--the only human beings who couldlive there. In the winter, snowstorms raced screaming across it, fromTexas to New Mexico, for half a thousand miles. It was a country ofextremes. In the summer it was a scorching griddle of heat dried outby dry desert winds. Water was hard to find there, and food stillharder to obtain. And it was now late summer--the season of mockingmirages and deadly sun. 

The horseman was just about to turn his steed's head directly to thesouthward when a sound came to his ears--a cry that made his eyes widenwith horror. 

Few sounds are so thrillingly terrible as the dying scream of a mangledhorse, and yet this was far more awful. Only the throat of a humanbeing could emit that chilling cry. It rose in shrill crescendo, todie away in a sobbing wail that lifted the hair on the listener's head. Again and again it came--a moan born of the frightful torture of mortalagony. 

Giving his mount a touch of spur, the horseman turned the animalwestward toward the Llano Estacado. So horrible were the sounds thathe had paled under his tan. But he headed directly toward thedirection of the cries. He knew that some human being was sufferingfrightful pain. 

Crossing a sun-baked gully, he climbed upward and onto a flat-topped, miniature butte. Here he saw a spectacle that literally froze him withhorror. 

Although accustomed to a hundred gruesome sights in that savage land, he had never seen one like this. Staked on the ground, feet and armswide-stretched, and securely bound, was a man. Or rather, it was athing that had once been a man. It was a torture that even thediabolical mind of an Indian could not have invented. It was theinsane creation of another race--the work of a madman. 

For the suffering wretch had been left on his back, face up to the sun, with his eyelids removed!

Ants crawled over the sufferer, apparently believing him dead. Fliesbuzzed, and a raven flapped away, beating the air with its startledwings. The horseman dismounted, took his water bag from his horse, andapproached the tortured man. 

The moaning man on the ground did not see him, for his eyes wereshriveled. He was blind. 

The youth with the water bag tried to speak, but at first words failedto come. The sight was too ghastly. 

"Heah's watah, " he muttered finally. "Just--just try and stand thepain fo' a little longah. I'll do all I can fo' yo'. "

He held the water bag at the swollen, blackened lips. Then he poured agenerous portion of the contents over the shriveled eyes andskeletonlike face. 

For a while the tortured man could not speak. But while his rescuerslashed loose the rawhide ropes that bound him, he began to stammer afew words:

"Heaven bless yuh! I thought I was dead, or mad! Oh, how I wantedwater! Give me more--more!"

"In a little while, " said the other gently. 

In spite of the fact that he was now free, the sufferer could not movehis limbs. Groans came from his lips. 

"Shoot me!" he cried. "Put a bullet through me! End this, if yuh'vegot any pity for me! I'm blind--dying. I can't stand the pain. Yuhmust have a gun. Why don't yuh kill me and finish me?"

It was the living dead! The buckskin-clad youth gave him more water, his face drawn with compassion. 

"Yo'll feel bettah afta while, " he murmured. "Just sit steady. "

"Too late!" the tortured man almost screamed, "I'm dyin', I tell yuh!"

"How long have yo' been like this?"

"Three-four days. Maybe five. I lost count. "

"Who did this thing?" was the fierce question. 

"'The Terror'!" the reply came in a sobbing wail. "'The Masked Terror'and his murderin' band. I was a prospector. A wagon train wasstartin' across the Llano, and I tried to warn 'em. I never reached'em. The Terror cut me off and left me like this! Say, I don't knowyore name, pard, but----"

"Call me 'Kid Wolf, '" answered the youth, "from Texas. " His eyes hadnarrowed at the mention of the name "The Terror. "

"Somethin' on my mind, Kid Wolf. It's that wagon train. The Terrorwill wipe it out. Promise me yuh'll try and warn 'em. "

"I promise, old-timah, " murmured the Texan. "Only yo' needn't to haveasked that. When yo' first mentioned it, I intended to do it. Whereis this wagon train, sah?"

In gasps--for his strength was rapidly failing him--the prospector gavewhat directions he could. Kid Wolf listened intently, his eyesblazing-blue coals. 

"I'm passin' in my checks, " sighed the sufferer weakly, when he hadgiven what information he could. "I'll go easier now. "

"Yo' can be sure that I'll do all I can, " the Texan assured him. "Fo'yo' see, that's always been mah business. I'm just a soldier ofmisfohtune, goin' through life tryin' to do all I can fo' the weak andoppressed. I'll risk mah life fo' these people, and heah's mah hand onthat!"

The prospector groped for his hand, took it, and tried to smile. In afew moments he had breathed his last, released from his pain. Kid Wolfremoved the bandanna from his own throat and placed it over the deadman's face. Then he weighted it down with small rocks and turned to go. 

"Just about the time I get to thinkin' the world is good, Blizzahd, " hesighed, addressing his white horse, "I find somethin' like this. Well, seems like we hit out across the Llano, aftah all. Let's get a moveon, amigo! We've got work to do. "

The Texan's face, as he swung himself into the saddle, was set and hard. 

 "Oh, I'm goin' back to the Rio Grande! The Rio! For most a yeah, I've been away, And I'm lonesome now fo' me Old Lone Stah! The Rio! Wheah the gila monsters play!"

It was Kid Wolf's second day on the Llano Estacado, and his usual goodspirits had returned. His voice rose tunefully and cheerily above thesteady drumming of Blizzard's hoofs. 

Surely the scene that lay before his eyes could not have aroused hisenthusiasm. It was lonely and desolate enough, with its endless sweepsdim against each horizon. The sky, blue, hot and pitiless, came downto meet the land on every hand, making a great circle unbroken by hillor mountain. 

So clean-swept was the floor of the vast table-land that each milelooked exactly like another mile. There was not a tree, not a shrub, not a rock to break the weary monotony. It was no wonder that theSpanish padres, who had crossed this enormous plateau long before, hadnamed it the Llano Estacado--the Staked Plains. They had had a goodreason of their own. In order to keep the trail marked, they had beencompelled to drive stakes in the ground as they went along. Althoughthe stakes had gone long since, the name still stuck. 

The day before, the Texan had climbed the natural rock steps that ledupward and westward toward the terrible mesa itself, each flat-toppedtable bringing him nearer the Staked Plains. And soon after reachingthe plateau he had found the trail left by a wagon train. 

From the ruts left in the soil, Kid Wolf estimated that the outfit mustconsist of a large number of prairie schooners, at least twenty. TheTexan puzzled his mind over why this wagon train was taking such adangerous route. Where were they bound for? Surely for the Spanishsettlements of New Mexico--a perilous venture, at best. 

Even on the level plain, a wagon outfit moves slowly, and the Texangained rapidly. Hourly the signs he had been following grew fresher. Late in the afternoon he made out a blot on the western horizon--a blotwith a hazy smudge above it. It was the wagon train. The smudge wasdust, dug up by the feet of many oxen. 

"They must be loco, " Kid Wolf muttered, "to try and cut across TheTerror's territory. "

The Texan had heard much of The Terror. And what plainsman of that dayhadn't? He was the scourge of the table-lands, with his band of ahundred cutthroats, desperadoes recruited from the worst scum of theborder. More than half of his hired killers, it was said, were Mexicanoutlaws from Sonora and Chihuahua. Some were half-breed Indians, and afew were white gunmen who killed for the very joy of killing. 

And The Terror himself? That was the mystery. Nobody knew hisidentity. Some rumors held that he was a white man; others maintainedthat he was a full-blooded Comanche Indian. Nobody had ever seen hisface, for he always was masked. His deeds were enough. No torture wastoo cruel for his insane mind. No risk was too great, if he couldobtain loot. With his band behind him, no man was safe on the StakedPlains. Many a smoldering pile of human bones testified to that. 

As the Texan approached the outfit, he could hear the sharp crack ofthe bull whips and the hoarse shouts of the drivers. Twenty-twowagons, and in single file! Against the blue of the horizon, they madea pretty sight, with their white coverings. Kid Wolf, however, was notconcerned with the beauty of the picture. Great danger threatenedthem, and it was his duty to be of what assistance he could. Touchinghis big white horse with the spur, he came upon the long train's flank. 

Ahead of the train were the scouts, or pathfinders. In the rear wasthe beef herd, on which the outfit depended for food. Behind that wasthe rear guard, armed with Winchesters. 

The Texan neared the horseman at the head of the train, raising his armin the peace signal. To his surprise, one of the scouts threw up hisrifle! There was a puff of white smoke, and a bullet whistled over KidWolf's head. 

"The fools!" muttered the Texan. "Can't they see I'm a friend?"

Setting his teeth, he rode ahead boldly, risking his life as he did so, for by this time several others had lifted their guns. 

The six men who made up the advance party, eyed him sullenly as he drewup in front of them. The Texan found himself covered by half a dozenWinchesters. 

"Who are yuh, and what do yuh want?" one of them demanded. 

"I'm Kid Wolf, from Texas, sah. I have impo'tant news fo' the leaderof this outfit. "

One of the sextet separated himself from the others and came so closeto the Texan that their horses almost touched. 

"I'm in command!" he barked. "My name's Modoc. I'm in charge o' thistrain, and takin' it to Sante Fe. "

The man, Modoc, was an impressive individual, bulky and stern. Hisface was thinner than the rest of his body, and Kid Wolf was ratherpuzzled to read the surly eyes that gleamed at him from under the bushyblack brows. He was more startled still, however, when Modoc whisperedin a voice just loud enough for him to hear:

"What color will the moon be to-night?"

Kid Wolf stared in astonishment. Was the man insane?

CHAPTER II

A THANKLESS TASK

Modoc waited, as if for an answer, and when it did not come, his facetook on an expression of anger, in which cunning seemed to be mingled. 

"What's yore message?" he rasped. 

It took Kid Wolf several seconds to recover his composure. Was thewagon train being led to its doom by a madman? What did Modoc mean byhis low-voiced, mysterious query? Or did he mean anything at all? TheTexan put it down as the raving of a mind unbalanced by hardship andperil. 

"I suppose yo'-all know, " he drawled loudly enough for them all tohear, "that yo're on the most dangerous paht of the Llano, and thatyo're off the road to Santa Fe. "

"Yo're a liar!" the train commander snarled. 

Kid Wolf tried to keep his anger from mounting. This was the thanks hegot for trying to help these people!

"I'll prove it, " sighed the kid patiently. "What rivah was that yo'crossed a few days ago?"

"Why, the Red River; we crossed it long ago, " Modoc sneered. "Yo'reeither a liar or a fool, Kid! And I'd advise yuh to mind yore ownbusiness. "

"Call me 'Wolf, '" said the Texan, a ring of steel in his voice. "I'mjust 'The Kid' to friends. Others call me by mah last name. Andspeakin' of the trail, that wasn't the Red Rivah yo' crossed. It wasthe Wichita. And yo' must have gone ovah the Wichita Mountains, too. "

"The Wichita!" ejaculated one of the other men. "Why, Modoc, yuh toldus----"

"And I told yuh right!" said the leader furiously. "I've been overthis route before, and I know just where we are. "

"Yo're in The Terror's territory, " drawled The Kid softly. "And I'veheahd from a reliable source that he's planned to raid yo'. "

The others paled at the mention of The Terror. But Modoc raised hisvoice in fury. 

"Who are yuh goin' to believe?" he shouted. "This upstart, or me?Why, for all we know"--his voice dropped to a taunting sneer--"he mightbe a spy for The Terror himself--probably measurin' the strength of ouroutfit!"

The other men seemed to hesitate. Then one of them spoke out:

"Reckon we'll believe you, Modoc. We don't know this man, and we'vetrusted yuh so far. "

Modoc grinned, showing a line of broken and tobacco-stained teeth. Helooked at Kid Wolf triumphantly. 

"Now I'll tell you a few things, my fine young fellow, " he leered. "Burn the wind out o' here and start pronto, before yuh get a bulletthrough yuh. Savvy?"

Kid Wolf decided to make one last appeal. If Modoc were insane, itseemed terrible that these others should be led to their doom on thataccount. Only the Texan could fully appreciate their peril. The wagontrain was loaded with valuable goods, for these men were traders. TheTerror would welcome such plunder, and it was his custom never to leavea man alive to carry the tale. 

"Men, " he said, "yo'-all got to believe me! Yo're in terrible danger, and off the right road. One man has already given his life to saveyo', and now I'm ready to give mine, if necessary. Let me stay withyo' and guide yo' to safety, fo' yo' own sakes! Mah two guns are atyo' service, and if The Terror strikes, I'll help yo' fight. "

The advance guard heard him out. Unbelief was written on all theirfaces. 

"I think yuh'd better take Modoc's advice, " one of them said finally, "and git! We can take care of ourselves. "

His heart heavy, Kid Wolf shrugged and turned away. The rebuff hurthim, not on his own account, but because these blindly trusting menwere being deceived. Modoc, whether purposely or not, had led themastray. 

He was about to ride away when his eyes fell upon the foremost of thewagons, which was now creaking up, pulled by its straining team. KidWolf gave a start. Thrust out of the opening in the canvas was achild's head, crowned with golden hair. There were women and children, then, in this ill-fated outfit!

The Texan rode his horse over to the wagon and smiled at the youngster. It was a boy of three, chubby-faced and brown-eyed. 

"Hello, theah, " Kid called. "What's yo' name?"

The baby returned the smile, obviously interested in this picturesquestranger. 

"Name's Jimmy Lee, " was the lisped answer. "I'm goin' to Santa Fe. Where you goin'?"

Kid Wolf gulped. He could not reply. There was small chance that thislittle boy would ever reach Santa Fe, or anywhere else. Tears came tohis eyes, and he wheeled Blizzard fiercely. 

"Good-by!" came the small voice. 

"Good-by, Jimmy Lee, " choked the Texan. 

When he looked back again at the wagon train, he could still see asmall, golden head gleaming in the first prairie schooner. 

"Blizzahd, " muttered Kid Wolf, "we've just got to help those people, whethah they want it or not. "

He pretended to head eastward, but when he was out of sight of thewagon train, he circled back and drummed west at a furious clip. Theonly thing he could do, he saw now, was to go to Santa Fe for help. With the obstinate traders headed directly across the Llano, they weresure to meet with trouble. If he could bring back a company ofsoldiers from that Mexican settlement, he might aid them in time. "Ifthey won't let me help 'em at this end, " he murmured, "I'll have tohelp 'em at the othah. "

The town of Santa Fe--long rows of flat-topped adobes nestling underthe mountain--was at that day under Spanish rule. Only a few Americansthen lived within its limits. 

It was a thriving, though sleepy, town, as it was the gateway to allChihuahua. A well-beaten trail left it southward for El Paso, and itsmain street was lined with cantinas--saloons where mescal and tequilaran like water. There were gambling houses of ill repute, an opencourt for cockfighting, and other pastimes. The few gringos who werethere looked, for the most part, like outlaws and fugitives from theStates. 

It lacked a few hours until sunset when Kid Wolf drummed into the town. The mountains were already beginning to cast long shadows, and thesounds of guitars and singing were heard in the gay streets. 

Galloping past the plazas, the Texan at once went to the presidio--thepalace of the governor. It was of adobe, like the rest of thebuildings, but the thick walls were ornately decorated with stone. Itwas a fortress as well as a dwelling place, and it contained manyrooms. Several dozen rather ragged soldiers were loafing about thepresidio when Kid Wolf reached it, for a regiment was stationed in thetown. 

Kid Wolf sought an interview with the governor at once, but in spite ofhis pleading, he was told to return in two hours. "The most honoredand respected Governor Manuel Quiroz, " it seemed, was busy. If theseñor would return later, Governor Quiroz would be highly pleased tosee him. 

There was nothing to do but wait, and the Texan decided to be patient. He spent an hour in caring for his horse and eating his own hasty meal. Then, finding some time on his hands, he walked through the plaza, watching the crowds with eyes that missed nothing. 

He found himself in a street where frijoles, peppers, and other foodswere being offered for trade or barter. Cooking was even being done inopen-air booths, and the air was heavy with seasoning and spice. Hereand there was a drinking place, crowded with revelers. It wasevidently some sort of feast day in Santa Fe. 

In front of one of the wine shops a little knot of men and soldiers hadgathered. All were flushed with drink and talking loudly in their owntongue. One of them--a captain in a gaudy uniform--saw the Texan andmade a laughing remark to his companions. 

Kid Wolf's face flushed under its tan. His eyes snapped, but hecontinued his walk. He had too much on his mind just then to resentinsults. 

But the captain had noticed his change of expression. The gringo, then, knew Spanish. His remarks became louder, more offensive. Morethan half intoxicated, he called jeeringly:

"I was just saying, señor, that many men who wear two guns do not knowhow to use even one. You understand, señor? Or perhaps the señor doesnot know the Spanish?"

Kid Wolf turned quietly. 

"The señor knows the Spanish, " he said softly. 

The captain turned to his companions with a knowing wink. Then headdressed the Texan. 

"Then, amigo, that is well, " he mocked. "Perhaps the señor can shootalso. Perhaps the señor could do this. "

A peon stood near by, and the captain pulled off the fellow's strawsombrero and tossed it into the street. The wind caught it and the hatsailed for some distance. With a quick movement the Spanish captaindrew a pistol from his belt and fired. With a sharp report, a round, black hole appeared in the hat, low in the crown. 

The crowd murmured its admiration at this feat. The captain strokedhis thin black mustache and smiled proudly. 

"Perhaps the señor might find that difficult to do, " he mocked. 

"Quién sabe?" Kid Wolf shrugged and started to pass on. He did notcare to make a public exhibition of his shooting, especially when hehad graver matters on his mind. But the jeers and taunts that brokeloose from the half-drunken assembly were more than any man couldendure, especially a Texan with fiery Southern blood in his veins. Heturned, smiling. His eyes, however, were as cold as ice. 

"Why, " he asked calmly, "should I mutilate this po' man's hat?" Hiswords were spoken in perfectly accented Spanish. 

"The hat? Ah, " mocked the captain, "if the señor hits it, I will payfor it with gold. "

Kid Wolf drew his left-hand Colt so quickly that no man saw the motion. Before they knew it, there was a sudden report that rolled out likethunder--six shots, blended into one stuttering explosion. He hademptied his gun in a breath!

A gust of wind blew away the cloud of black powder smoke, and the crowdstared. Then some one began to laugh. It was taken up by others. Even the customers in the booths chuckled at Kid Wolf's discomfiture. The captain's laugh was the loudest of all. 

"Six shots the señor took, " he guffawed, "and missed with them all!Ah, didn't I tell you that the Americans are bluffers, like their gameof poker? This one carries two guns and cannot use even one!"

Kid Wolf smiled quietly. A faint look of amusement was in his eyes. 

"Maybe, " he drawled, "yo'-all had bettah look at that hat. "

Curiously, and still smiling, some of the loiterers went over toexamine the target. When they had done so, they cried out inamazement. It was true that just one bullet hole showed in the frontof the sombrero. The captain's shot had drilled that one. Naturallyall had supposed that the gringo had missed. Such was not the case. All of Kid Wolf's six bullets had passed through the captain's bulletmark! For the back of the hat was torn by the marks of seven slugs!Some one held the sombrero aloft, and the excited crowd roared itsapproval and enthusiasm. Never had such shooting been seen within theold city of Santa Fe. 

The Spanish captain, after his first gasp of surprise, had nothing tosay. Chagrin and disgust were written over his face. If ever a manwas crestfallen, the captain was. He hated to be made a fool of, andthis quiet man from Texas had certainly accomplished it. 

He was about to slink off when Kid Wolf drawled after him:

"Oh, captain! Pahdon, but haven't yo' forgotten somethin'?"

"What do you mean?" snapped the other. 

"Yo' were goin' to pay for this man's sombrero, I believe, " said KidWolf softly, "in gold. "

"Bah!" snarled the officer. "That I refuse to do!"

The Texan's hand snapped down to his right Colt. A blaze of flameleaped from the region of his hip. Along with the crashing roar of theexplosion came a sharp, metallic twang. 

The bullet had neatly clipped away the captain's belt buckle! A yellof laughter rang out on all sides. For the captain's trousers, suddenly unsupported, slipped down nearly to his knees. With a cry ofdismay, the disgruntled officer seized them frantically and held themup. 

"Reach down in those, " drawled the Texan, "and see if yo' can't findthat piece of gold!"

The officer, white with rage in which hearty fear was mingled, obeyedwith alacrity, pulling out a gold coin and handing it, with an oath, tothe peon whose hat he had ruined. 

"_Muchas gracias_, " murmured Kid Wolf, reholstering his gun. "And now, if the fun's ovah, I must bid yo' _buenas tardes_. Adios!"

And doffing his big hat, the Texan took his departure with a sweepingbow, leaving the captain glaring furiously after him. 

CHAPTER III

THE GOVERNOR'S ANSWER

Judging that it was almost time for his interview with the governor, Kid Wolf saddled Blizzard in the public _establo_, or stable, and rodeat once to the governor's palace. 

Although it did not occur to him that Quiroz would reject his plea foraid, he was filled with foreboding. He had a premonition that made himuneasy, although there seemed nothing at which to be alarmed. 

Dismounting, he walked up the stone flags toward the presidioentrance--a huge, grated door guarded by two flashily dressed butbarefooted soldiers. They nodded for him to pass, and the Texan foundhimself in a long, half-lighted passage. Another guard directed himinto the office of Governor Quiroz, and Kid Wolf stepped throughanother carved door, hat in hand. 

He found that he had entered a large, cool room, lighted softly bywindows of brightly colored glass and barred with wrought iron. Thetiles of the floor were in black-and-white design, and the place wasbare of furniture, except at one end, where a large desk stood. 

Behind it, in a chair of rich mahogany, sat an impressive figure. Itwas the governor. 

While bowing politely, the Texan searched the pale face of the man ofwhom he had heard so much. By looking at him, he thought he discoveredwhy Quiroz was so feared by the oppressed people of the district. Ironstrength showed itself in the official's aristocratic features. 

There was something there besides power. Quiroz had eyes that weremysterious and deep. Not even the Texan could read the secrets theymasked. Cruelty might lurk there, perhaps, or friendliness--who couldsay? At the governor's soft-spoken invitation, Kid Wolf took a chairnear the huge desk. 

"Your business with me, señor?" asked the official in smoothly spokenEnglish. 

Kid Wolf spoke respectfully, although he did not fawn over thedignitary or lose his own quiet self-assertion. He was an American. He told of finding the tortured prospector and of the plight of theapproaching wagon train. 

"If they continue on the course they are followin', guv'nor, " heconcluded, "they'll nevah reach Santa Fe. And I have every reason tobelieve that The Terror plans to raid them. "

"And what, " asked the governor pleasantly, "do you expect me to do?"

"I thought, sah, " Kid Wolf replied, "that yo' would let me return tothem with a company of yo' soldiers. "

"My dear señor, " the governor said with suave courtesy, "the people youwish to rescue are not subjects of mine. "

Kid Wolf tried not to show the irritation he felt. "Surely, sah, yo'are humane enough to do this thing. I thought I told yo' theah's womenand children in the wagon train. "

Quiroz rubbed his chin as if in thought. His eyes, however, seemed tosmolder with an emotion of which Kid Wolf could only guess the nature. The Spaniard's face was that of a hypnotist, with its thin, high-bridged nose and its chilling, penetrating gaze. 

"Your name, señor?"

"Kid Wolf, from Texas, sah. "

Spanish governors of that day had no reason to like gunmen from theLone Star State. From the time of Santa Anna, Texas fighters had beenthorns in their sides. But if Quiroz was thinking of this, he made nosign. He smiled with pleasure, either real or assumed. 

"That is good, " he said. "Señor Wolf, to show your good faith, willyou be kind enough to lay your weapons on my desk? It is a custom herenot to come armed in the presence of the governor. "

Suspicion began to burn strongly in the back of the Texan's brain. WasQuiroz playing a crafty game? He was supposed to be friendly towardthose from the States, but once before, in California, Kid Wolf had haddealings with a Spanish governor. Instantly he was on his guard, although he did not allow his face to show it. 

"I am an American, sah, " he replied. "Some have called me a soldier ofmisfohtune. Anyway, I try and do good. What good I have done fo' theweak and oppressed, sah, I've done with these. " The Kid tapped histwin Colts and went on: "I've twelve lead aces heah, sah, and I'm notin the habit of layin' 'em down. "

"We're not playing cards, señor. " Quiroz smiled pleasantly. 

"No. " Kid Wolf's quick smile flashed. "But if a game is stahted, Iwant a hand to play with. "

His eyes were fixed on the carved front of the governor's desk. Thereseemed something strange about the carved design. He was seateddirectly in front of it, in the chair Quiroz had pointed out to him, and for the last few minutes he had wondered what it was that hadattracted his attention. 

The desk was carved with a series of squares chiseled deep into thedark wood. In one of the squares was a black circle about the size ofa small silver piece. Somehow Kid Wolf did not like the looks of it. What it could be, he could hardly guess. The Texan had learned not totake chances. Slowly, and with his eyes still on the official'ssmiling face, he edged his chair away from it, an inch at a time. Hisprogress was slow enough not to attract Quiroz's attention. 

"Then, " asked the governor slowly, "you refuse, señor?"

"Yo'-all are a fine guessah, sah!" snapped the Texan, alert as a steelspring. 

The governor moved his knee. There was a sharp report, and a streak offlame leaped from the desk front, followed by a puff of blue smoke. The bullet, however, knocked a slab of plaster from the opposite wall. Just in time, Kid Wolf had moved his chair from the range of the trapgun. 

Quiroz's death-dealing apparatus had failed. The Texan's clevernesshad matched his own. Concealed in the desk had been a pistol, thetrigger of which had been pressed by the weight of the official's kneeon a secret panel. Quick as a flash, Kid Wolf was on his feet, handsflashing down toward his two . 45s!

The governor, however, was not in the habit of playing a lone handagainst any antagonist. Behind Kid Wolf rang out a command in curtSpanish:

"Hands up!"

Kid Wolf's sixth sense warned him that he was covered with a dead drop. His mind worked rapidly. He could have drawn and taken the governor ofSanta Fe with him to death, perhaps cutting down some of the men behindhim, as well. But in that case, what would become of the wagon train, with no one to save them from The Terror? A vision of the littlegolden-haired child crossed his mind. No, while there was life, therewas hope. Slowly he took his hands away from his gun handles andraised them aloft. 

Turning, he saw six soldiers, each with a rifle aimed at his breast. In all probability they had had their eyes on him during his audiencewith the governor. Quiroz snarled an order to them. 

"Take away his guns!" he cried. Then, while the Texan was beingdisarmed, he took a long black cigarette from a drawer and lighted itwith trembling fingers. 

"You are clever, señor, " said the governor, recovering his composure. "I am exceedingly sorry, but I will have to deal with you in a way youwill not like--the adobe wall. " Quiroz bowed. "I bid you adios. " Heturned to his soldiers. "Take him to the _calabozo_!" he orderedsharply. 

The building that was then being used as Santa Fe's prison wasconstructed of adobe with tremendously thick walls and no windows. Theonly place light and air could enter the sinister building was througha grating the size of a man's hand in the huge, rusty iron door. 

Kid Wolf was marched to the prison by his sextet of guards. While thedoor was being opened, he glanced around him, taking what might proveto be his last look at the sky. His eyes fell upon one of the walls ofthe jail. It was pitted with hundreds of little holes. The Texansmiled grimly. He knew what had made them--bullets. It was theexecution place!

The door clanged behind him, and a scene met The Kid's eyes that causedhim to shudder. In the big, dank room were huddled fourteen prisoners. Most of them were miserable, half-naked peons. It was intolerably hot, and the air was so bad as almost to be unbreathable. 

The prisoners kept up a wailing chant--a hopeless prayer for mercy anddeliverance. A guttering candle shed a ghastly light over their thinbodies. 

So this was what his audience with the governor had come to! What atyrant Quiroz had proved to be! Strangely enough, The Kid's thoughtswere not of his own terrible plight, but of the peril that awaited thewagon train. If he could only escape this place, he might at leasthelp them. What a mistake he had made in going to the governor for aid!

His next thought was of his horse, Blizzard. What would become of him, if he, Kid Wolf, died? The Texan knew one thing for certain, thatBlizzard was free. Nobody could touch him save his master. He wasalso sure that the faithful animal awaited his beck and call. Thewhite horse was somewhere near and on the alert. Kid Wolf had trainedit well. 

He soon saw that escape by ordinary means from the prison was quitehopeless. There was no guard to overpower, the walls were exceedinglythick, and the door impregnable. 

Only one of the prisoners, Kid Wolf noted, was an American--a sicklyfaced youth of about the Texan's own age. A few questions brought outthe information that all the inmates of the jail were under sentence ofdeath. 

The hours passed slowly in silent procession while the dying candleburned low in the poison-laden air. Kid Wolf paced the floor, his eyescool and serene. 

His mind, however, was wide awake. When was he to be shot? In themorning? Or would his execution be delayed, perhaps for days?

The Texan never gave up hope, and he was doing more than hoping now--hewas planning carefully. Kid Wolf had a hole card. Had the Spanishsoldiers known him better, they would have used more care in disarminghim. But then, enemies of Kid Wolf had made that mistake before, totheir sorrow. 

Clearly enough, he could not help the wagon train where he was. Hemust get out. But the only way to get out, it seemed, was to go outwith the firing squad--a rather unpleasant thing to do, to say theleast. 

The tiny grated square in the jail door began to lighten. It grewbrighter. Day was breaking. 

"It will soon be time for the beans, " muttered the American youth. 

"Will they give us breakfast?" asked the Texan. 

The other laughed bitterly. "We'll have beans, " he said shortly, "butwe won't eat them. "

Not long afterward the iron door opened, and two soldiers entered, carrying a red earthenware olla. "Fifteen men, " said one of them inSpanish, "counting the new one. "

"Fifteen men, " chanted the other in singsong voice. "Fifteen beans. "

Kid Wolf's brows began to knit. At first he had thought that the beansmeant breakfast. Now he saw that something sinister was intended. Some sort of lottery was about to be played with beans. 

"There are fourteen white beans, " the young American whispered, "andone black one. We all draw. The man who gets the black bean dies thismorning. "

The hair prickled on the Texan's head. Every morning theseunfortunates were compelled to play a grim game with death. 

The prisoners were all quaking with terror, as they came up to the uglyred jug to take their chance for life. As much as these miserable mensuffered in this terrible place, existence was still dear to them. 

One soldier shook the beans in the olla; the other stood back againstthe wall with leveled gun to prevent any outbreak. Then the lotterybegan. 

Kid Wolf viewed the situation calmly, and decided that to try to wrestthe weapon from the soldier would be folly. Other soldiers werewatching through the grated door. 

One by one, the prisoners drew. The opening in the olla was just largeenough for a hand to be admitted. All was blind chance, and no onecould see what he had drawn until his bean was out of the jug. Some ofthe peons screamed with joy after drawing their white beans. The blackone was still in the jar. 

The two white men were the last to draw. Both took their beans andstepped to one side to look at them. It was an even break. Kid Wolfwas smiling; the other was trembling. 

The eyes of Kid Wolf met the fear-stricken eyes of the other. Theystood close together. Each had looked at his bean. The sick man'sface had gone even whiter. 

"I'll trade yo' beans, " offered the Texan. 

"Mine's--black!" gasped the other. 

"I know, " The Kid whispered in reply. "Trade with me!"

"It means that yuh give yore life for mine, " was the agonized answer. "I can't let yuh do that. "

"Believe me or not, but I have a plan, " urged the Texan in a low tone. "And it might work. Hurry. "

The color returned to the sick youth's face as the beans werecautiously exchanged. Then Kid Wolf turned to the soldiers anddisplayed a black bean. 

"Guess I'm the unlucky one. " He smiled whimsically. He turned to thesick boy for a final handshake. "Good luck, " he whispered, "and if myplans fail, adios forever. "

"Come!" ordered a Spanish soldier. 

Waving his hand in farewell, Kid Wolf stepped out to meet the doom thathad been prepared for him. 

CHAPTER IV

SURPRISES

At the prison door, Kid Wolf was met by a squad of ten soldiers. Itwas the firing squad. The Texan fell in step with them and was marchedaround the building to the bullet-scarred wall. Kid Wolf faced therising sun. Was he now seeing it for the last time?

If he was afraid, he made no sign. His expression was unruffled andcalm. He was smiling a little, and his arms, as he folded them on hisbreast, did not tremble in the slightest. 

The officer who was to have charge of the execution had not yetappeared on the scene, and the soldiers waited with their rifle stockstrailing in the sand. 

Then there was a quick bustle. The officer sauntered around the cornerof the building, his bright uniform making a gay sight in the earlysun. He was a captain--the captain whom Kid Wolf had humiliated theafternoon before! The eyes of the Spanish officer, when they fell uponhis victim, widened with surprise which at once gave way to exultation. 

"Ah, it is my amigo--the señor of the two guns!" he cried. 

It was his day of revenge! The captain could not conceal his joy atthis chance to square things with his enemy for good and all. He didnot try to. His laugh was sneering and amused. 

"And to think it will be me--Captain Hermosillo--who will say the wordto fire!" He turned to his soldiers in high good humor and waved hissword. "At twenty paces, " he ordered. "We shall soon see how bravelythe señor dies. Ready!"

The rifle mechanisms clattered sharply. 

Then the captain turned to his victim, an insolent smile on his cruelfeatures. "Will the señor have his eyes bandaged? Blindfolded, yes?"

Kid Wolf returned the smile. "Yes, " he replied quietly. "Maybe yo'better blindfold me. "

Hermosillo laughed tauntingly and turned to wink at his men. "He isbrave, yes!" he mocked. "He cannot endure seeing the _carabinas_ aimedat his heart. He wants his eyes bandaged--the _muchos grandeAmericano_! Ah, the coward!" He spat contemptuously on the sand. "Hedoes not know how to face the guns. Well, we will humor him!"

The captain whipped a silk handkerchief from his pocket and steppedforward. Kid Wolf's eyes were gleaming with icy-blue lights. This wasthe moment he had been waiting for! That handkerchief was a necessarycog in his carefully laid plans. Captain Hermosillo was soon to learnjust how cowardly this young Texan was. And the surprise was not goingto be pleasant. 

Kid Wolf's hole card was a big bowie knife--the same weapon that hadplayed such havoc at the Alamo. He carried it in a strange hidingplace--tucked into a leather sheath sewn to the inside of his shirtcollar, between his shoulder blades. That knife had rescued Kid Wolffrom many a tight situation, and he had practiced until he could drawit with all the speed of heat lightning. 

When the captain placed the handkerchief over his eyes, Kid Wolfreached back, as if pretending to assist him. Like a flash, hisfingers closed over the bone handle of the knife instead. Hermosillofound himself with the cold point of the gleaming bowie pressed againsthis throat!

At the same time, Kid Wolf whirled his body about so that the officerwas between him and the firing squad. His left hand held the captainin a grip of steel; his right held the glittering blade againstHermosillo's Adam's apple!

"Throw down yo' rifles and back away from 'em!" Kid Wolfe called to thesoldiers. "Pronto! Or I'll kill yo' captain!"

Hermosillo gave an agonized yell of fear. In a voice of quakingterror, he ordered his men to do what Kid Wolf had commanded them. Hisbreath was coming in wheezing gasps. 

The firing squad, taken aback by this sudden development--for only afew seconds had passed since The Kid had drawn the knife--hesitated, and then obeyed. At best, they were none too quick-thinking, and theysaw that their leader was in a perilous plight. Their _carabinas_thudded to the sand. 

"_Bueno!_" laughed the Texan boyishly. 

He pushed the captain just far enough away for him to be in goodhitting range. Then he lashed out at him with his hard fist, catchingthe fear-crazed officer directly on the point of the jaw. Many poundsof lean muscle were behind the blow, and Hermosillo landed ten feetaway in a cloud of dust. 

The Texan lost no time in whirling on his feet and sprinting for thecorner of the building. He reached it just in time to bump intoanother officer, who was just then arriving on the scene. Kid Wolfsnatched the pistol from his belt and sent him up against the wall witha jar. Before the disarmed Spaniard knew what had happened, he wassitting on the ground, nursing a bruised jaw, and Kid Wolf was gone!

The Texan found the streets deserted at that early hour. Racing acrossthe plaza, he raised his voice in a coyote yell:

"Yip, yip, yipee-e-e!"

It was answered by an eager whinny. It was Blizzard! The horse, waiting patiently in the vicinity, knew that signal. It came runningdown another street like a white snowstorm. 

Kid Wolf ran to meet the horse. A sharp rattle of rifle fire rang outbehind him. The soldiers had given chase! A bullet zipped the stoneflags under his feet; another smacked solidly into the corner of anadobe house. 

The alarm had been given. Two gayly uniformed officers ran into thestreet from the direction of the presidio. They were trying to headthe Texan off, attempting to get between him and his horse. 

But Blizzard was coming at too hot a pace. The two Spaniards cut injust as Kid Wolf leaped to the saddle. He fired the pistol's singlebarrel at one of the officers, and hurled the useless weapon into theother's face. 

"Come on, Blizzahd!" Kid Wolf sang out. "Let's go from heah!"

The powerful animal's hoofs thundered against the flagstones, leaped astone wall, and charged down the street. Behind them, alreadyorganized, came the pursuit. To Kid Wolf's ears came the whine ofbullets. 

"From now on, " he cried to his plunging horse, "it all depends onyo'-all! Burn that wind!"

Once Blizzard had hit his stride, Kid Wolf knew that no horse in SantaFe could catch him. Striking off to the eastward in the direction ofthe Staked Plains, the Texan gave his animal free rein. 

The pursuit was dropping behind, a few yards at a time. Instead ofbuzzing around his ears now, the bullets were falling short, kicking upspurts of dust. The cries in angry Spanish grew fainter until theydied into a confused hubbub. Kid Wolf had left the town behind him andwas racing out over the level plain. Looking back, he could see ascore or more of brown clouds--dirt stirred by the horsemen who werenow almost lost from view. These dwindled. In an hour only half adozen riders remained on his trail. Blizzard was still going strong. 

Out on the great Llano Estacado, The Kid managed, by superiorhorsemanship, to give the balance of his pursuers the slip. When hehad succeeded in confusing them, he slowed his faithful mount down fora needed rest. And now where was the wagon train? Where was he tofind it? A chill raced down his spine. Had The Terror already struck?The thought of the women and children in the hapless outfit filled himwith a feeling akin to panic. He must find the wagon train. It mightnot yet be too late. 

Kid Wolf was a plainsman. He could locate water where none appeared toexist; he could discover game when older men failed; and he couldfollow a course on the limitless prairie as surely as a sailor couldnavigate the seas by means of his compass. By day or by night, he was"trailwise. "

Carefully Kid Wolf estimated the route the wagon train had been taking. Then he figured out the progress it had probably made since he had leftit. In this way he fixed a point in his mind--an imaginary dot that hemust reach if he meant to find the prairie schooners. If Modoc--theleader of the outfit--had kept to his original course, The Kid couldnot fail to meet them. 

Accordingly, Kid Wolf traveled all the rest of that day in a straightline, marking his course by the sun. He stopped only once at noon forwater and a short rest, going on again until dusk. 

At nightfall, he made camp and lay awake, looking at the starsoverhead. His thoughts were of The Terror and of his intended victims. Strangely enough, the face of Modoc came into his reflections, also. He could not dismiss him. Was he really insane, or was it justobstinacy? If the latter, what had he meant by his strange expression:"What color will the moon be to-night?" Kid Wolf thought for a longtime and then gave it up. 

He did not fear any further pursuit by the Spanish soldiers. The trailhe had left behind was too puzzling; he had taken care of that. Besides, he knew that the average Spaniard feared the Apache and theother Indian tribes that infested portions of the Staked Plains. Ifthere were any danger during the night, Blizzard would give him warning. 

He was up with the dawn. At its first faint, pinkish glow, he was inthe saddle again. The day promised to be hot. The midsummer sun hadburned the grass to a crisp brown. By midday, mirages began to show inhollows. Heat flickered. Both horse and rider drank at a pool ofyellow-brown water and pressed on. 

Late in the afternoon, Kid Wolf made out a faint white line on the farhorizon. It was the wagon train! He sighed with relief. The Terror, then, had not yet raided it. For The Terror left only destruction inhis wake. Had he already plundered it, he would have burned the wagonsto the ground. 

Increasing his speed, Kid Wolf rapidly approached it. As he camenearer, he saw that the outfit was in the center of a field of alkaliand making slow and painful progress. He did not see the beef herd. Plainly, something had happened during his absence. 

Kid Wolf rode in, waving his hat. Would he get a bullet for his pains?He kept his eyes open as he drummed in over the alkali flat. 

Modoc and three others were at the head of the outfit. They recognizedhim at once. Modoc started to raise his rifle. One of the othersstruck the weapon down. Obviously the train commander had lost some ofhis influence. Another of the pathfinders shouted for Kid Wolf to comeon. A dozen of the travelers left their wagons and came forward. Thistime they seemed glad to see Kid Wolf. 

"Yuh was right, after all!" one of them cried. "Modoc led us out ofthe way. We're lost!"

"I meant all right, " Modoc grumbled. "I did my best--must have made amistake somewhere. I'll find the trail, never worry. And if yuh takemy advice, yuh'll drive this four-flusher away from here! He don'tmean us any good. What business is it of his?"

Kid Wolf sternly pointed back to the wagons. 

"Those women and children theah, " he snapped, "is mah business. "

"Shut up, Modoc!" ordered one of the men. "We trust this man, and webelieve he's our friend. " He turned to the Texan. "Yuh can consideryoreself in command here now, " he added. 

Modoc trembled with ungovernable anger, but, outnumbered as he was, hecould say nothing. Sulkily he returned to his own wagon. 

From the drivers, Kid Wolf learned a story of hardship and semistarvation. Indians had driven away their beef herd, leaving themwithout food. All day they had had nothing to eat, and were at thepoint of killing and devouring prairie dogs. The water, too, wasbad--so full of alkali as nearly to be undrinkable, and as bitter asgall. 

Kid Wolf lost no time in taking the situation in hand. His ownprovisions he turned over to the women and children of the outfit. Then he changed the course of the train so that it led towardcivilization. At nightfall they made camp by a pool of fair drinkingwater. The outfit told him that as yet they had seen no sign of TheTerror. 

"Probably we won't, " said one. 

Kid Wolf was not so optimistic. That night he borrowed two . 45 Coltrevolvers from the wagon-train supplies. He selected them with extremecare, testing them by shooting at marks. So accurate was his shootingthat the men of the outfit could not conceal their admiration. Thefirst weapon he tried threw the shots an inch or two to one side, buthe finally obtained a pair that worked perfectly. Then he sanded thewooden handles of the guns to roughen them slightly. 

"It nevah pays to have yo' hand slip when makin' a draw, " he explained. 

The outfit's camp fire was shielded with canvas that night, at Kid'ssuggestion. On that wide plain a light showed for many miles, and itwas poor policy to advertise one's position. 

Tired as he was, Kid Wolf rose at midnight, after sleeping a few hours. He wanted to be sure that everything was well. Making a tour of thewagon train, he suddenly stopped in his tracks and sniffed. There wasno mistaking the delicious odor. It made Kid Wolf hungry. It wasfrying meat. The Texan quietly aroused some of the men and led them toone of the wagons. 

"I want yo'-all to see fo' yo'selves, " he explained. 

The wagon was Modoc's own, and they entered it. The ex-wagon-traincommander had a shielded lantern burning inside, and he was in the actof eating a big supper! When he saw that he had visitors, he tried toreach the gun belt he had hung up at one end of the wagon. Kid Wolfwas too quick for him. 

"Yo' call yo'self a man!" he murmured in a voice filled with contempt. "Why, a low-down coyote is a gentleman alongside of yo'. I wonderedwhy yo' looked so well fed, while the rest of the camp was starvin'. Men, search this wagon!"

While Modoc swore, the search was made. It disclosed many pounds ofdried beef and other provisions. It was Modoc's little private supply. 

"We'll divide it up with everybody in the mohnin', " suggested theTexan, "with a double allowance fo' the children and the women. "

The wagon men were so furious at Modoc's selfishness that they couldhave torn him to pieces. Kid Wolf, however, prevented the trouble thatwas brewing. 

"Every one to their blankets, men, " he said. "We can't affohd to fightamong ouahselves just now. "

When the camp was asleep again, he took up his lonely vigil. The nightwas pitch black, without moon or stars. A wind whispered softly acrossthe great Llano. 

Suddenly The Kid's attention was attracted by something on the westernhorizon. It seemed to be in the sky--a faint red glow, across whichshadows appeared to move like phantoms. Like a picture from the ghostworld, it flickered for a few minutes like heat lightning, thendisappeared, leaving the night as dark as before. It was a nightmirage, and something more than an optical illusion. It was a rarething on the plain. The Kid knew that it meant something. That glowwas the reflection in the sky of a camp fire! Those shadows were men!The Texan quickly told his sentinels. 

"I'm ridin' out to see what it is, " he said. "Keep a close watch whileI'm gone. I'm on a little scoutin' pahty of mah own. It might be thatQuiroz has followed me--which I doubt. And it might be--The Terror!"

Mounting Blizzard, he was quickly swallowed up in the darkness. 

CHAPTER V

THE CAMP OF THE TERROR

Kid Wolf knew that the camp fire was many miles away. He gave hishorse just a touch of the spur--that was always enough forBlizzard--and they proceeded to split the wind. The horse was assure-footed as a cat, and was not an animal to step into a prairie-doghole, even on a black night. Blizzard had ample rest and water, andwas never fresher. He ran like a greyhound. 

Kid Wolf never forgot that gallop across the Llano by night. It waslike running full tilt against an ever-opening velvet curtain. Hecould hardly see his horse's head. 

Blizzard's hoofs pounded on and on across the level plateau. Milesdisappeared under his flying feet, while Kid's keen eyes were fastenedon the horizon ahead. Finally he made out an orange glow--a light thatchanged to a redder and redder hue until it became a point of fire. The Texan approached it rapidly, more and more cautious. 

That was no small camp! Many men were around that flickering fire. Kid Wolf dismounted, whispering for Blizzard to remain where he was. Then, like a slinking Apache Indian, he approached on foot, making nosound. Not once did his high-heeled boots snap a weed or rustle thedried grass. He would not have been more silent had he been wearingmoccasins. 

There were a hundred or more men in the camp. It was a small city. Kid Wolf could hear the champing and stamping of countless restlesshorses, and the men were thick around the fire. A conference of somekind was being held. 

The Texan approached closer and closer, all eyes and ears. If he coulddiscover the identity of this band and something of their plans----

Suddenly a sentry rose up from the grass not a yard from him. His eyesfell upon the intruder, and his mouth flew open. In his hand was ashort-barreled carbine. 

The Texan seized him, dodged under the half-raised weapon and cut offthe man's cry with the pressure of a muscular hand. He foughtnoiselessly, and the sentry--a Mexican--was no match for him. Throwinghim to the ground, Kid Wolf gagged him with the man's own gayly coloredscarf. Then he bound him securely, using the sentry's sash and carbinestrap. 

Kid Wolf exchanged his hat for the Mexican's steep-crowned sombrero andpicked up the carbine. In this guise he could approach the camp withcomparative safety. Pulling the sombrero over his eyes, he came incloser to the camp fire. As he did so, a trio of men--two white menand one half-breed--came into the camp from another direction. The Kidheard one of the other sentries hail the newcomers. 

"What color will the moon be to-night?" was the challenge. 

Thrills raced up Kid Wolf's spine. That was the question Modoc hadasked him! What deep plot was behind that seemingly meaningless query?Then the Texan heard the response. 

"The moon will be red!" was the countersign, and the trio passed andapproached the ring around the fire. 

There was no doubt now that he was in the camp of The Terror! The menoutlined in the ruddy fire-light were desperadoes. Never had the Texanseen such a gathering. Some were American gunmen, evil-faced andheavily armed. Others were Mexicans and Indians. There was atenseness in the very atmosphere. As Kid Wolf came closer to the fire, he was hailed in turn:

"What color will the moon be to-night?"

"The moon will be red, " Kid Wolf replied softly. 

No one paid him any attention. All eyes were on a figure near theglowing fire. 

The man was talking and seemed to be in authority. He was dressed in ared Mexican coat, rich silver-trimmed pantaloons, and carried a braceof gold-mounted pistols. His face was covered with a mask of blackvelvet. Instinctively Kid Wolf knew that he was looking at the dreadscourge of the Llano Estacado--The Terror of the Staked Plains! Thebandit, then, kept himself masked even in front of his own men! KidWolf, as he listened, grew tense. His eyes were shining with snappingblue fire. The Terror was planning a raid upon the wagon train! Hisvoice, cold and deadly, came to Kid Wolf's ears:

"Everything, then, caballeros, is arranged. We strike at dawn and wipethem out, sparing nobody. If a man escapes, you are all running arisk, for some of you might be identified. Man, woman, and child, theymust die! Our man, of course, you all know. Do not fire on him. "

Kid Wolf listened to that sinister voice and wondered what the facebehind the mask looked like. The bandit leader had no more soul than arattler, and one might expect more mercy from a wolf. And Kid Wolfalready knew whom The Terror meant when he spoke of "our man. " Angershook the Texan from head to foot. He had learned enough. The banditswere already about to mount their horses in order that they might reachthe wagon train at daybreak. There was no time to lose. He must getback to the helpless outfit ahead of them. 

Sauntering carelessly, he slipped out of the circle about the fire andmade his way out of the camp without being noticed. Once out of therange of the firelight, he raced into the darkness for his horse. 

Blizzard was waiting patiently. He had not moved from his tracks. Anordinary animal might have nickered upon scenting other horses, butBlizzard had been trained otherwise. Kid Wolf leaped into the saddle, slapped his mount gently on the neck, and was swallowed up in the nightas Blizzard answered the summons. 

The east was a pale line against the dark of the prairie night whenBlizzard drummed up to the sleeping wagon train with his rider. Itstill lacked a half hour until the dawn. 

The Texan sent the sentries to arouse every available fighting man inthe wagon train. 

"Is it The Terror?" one of them questioned, paling. 

"It is, " replied Kid Wolf. "We must act quickly. "

In a few minutes men were pouring out of the wagons, weapons in theirhands. It was just light enough now to see. Modoc ran out of hiswagon, strapping on his Colt . 45 as he came. He advanced toward theTexan sneeringly. The others gathered about to see what would happen. Something in Kid Wolf's eyes warned them of impending trouble. 

"What's the idea now?" Modoc snarled, showing his stained teeth like awolf. "Has this four-flusher been up to his tricks again?"

Kid Wolf's voice came cool and calm. "Modoc, " he drawled, "what colorwill the moon be to-night?"

Modoc's face went the color of putty. Like a flash, the insolence hadgone out of his eyes, to be replaced with fear. He moistened his lipsfeverishly. 

"I--I don't know what yo're talkin' about, " he stammered. 

"Are yo' sure, " said Kid Wolf with deadly quietness, "that the moonwon't be red?"

Modoc began to tremble like a leaf. His gun hand moved part way to hiship, then stopped. Beads of perspiration stood out on his clammyforehead. 

"Afraid to draw like a man?" the Texan drawled. "I wouldn't doubt it. Men, this man is a betrayah. He is one of The Terror's bandits. That's why he led yo' off the track. He brought yo' here to die likerats. "

Modoc's face was blue-white as Kid Wolf continued:

"When I first showed up, Modoc thought I might be one of The Terror'smessengahs. I didn't come through with the password, and he learneddifferent. I didn't know what he meant, then, but I know now!"

The wagon men surged around Modoc threateningly. Fury was written overthe faces of them all. There were cries of "Kill him!" "Hang thetraitor!"

Kid Wolf still faced the fear-frozen Modoc, smiling coolly. There wasquiet menace in that easy smile. 

"I usually shoot the head off a rattlesnake when I see one, " he saidsoftly. "One day, yeahs ago, a rattlah killed a favorite dawg of mine. I blew that snake apart, bit by bit. Modoc, that snake was a gentlemanalongside of yo'. I'm givin' yo' an even chance to kill me. Fill yo'hand!"

Modoc, with a wheezing, gasping breath, decided upon action. His handstreaked for his hip. But Kid Wolf had drawn a split second later andmore than a split second faster. The fingers of his right hand closedupon the handle of one of his twin Colts. In the same instant, fireflew!

With the first explosion, Modoc grunted with pain, dropping his gun. The bullet had caught him squarely in the wrist, rendering his fingersuseless. But Kid Wolf kept firing, although he did not aim for Modoc'shead or body. His gun flashed and stuttered twice, three times, four--five--six! Dust flew from Modoc's coat sleeve as the bulletslanded with a series of terrific smashes. As he had torn therattlesnake bit by bit, Kid Wolf ripped Modoc's gun arm. 

Each bullet took effect, and Modoc staggered from the impacts, kneesslumping to the ground. The traitor would never use that gun armagain. It dangled from his body, broken and useless. The others wouldhave literally torn Modoc limb from limb had not the Texan orderedotherwise. 

"He doesn't deserve hangin', " he said, "so let him be. We've got workto do. The Terror and his gang will be here at any minute. Now listencarefully to what I say. "

Quietly he gave his orders, and just as carefully, the wagon mencarried them out. Under Kid Wolf's masterly leadership they hadregained their nerve. Panic left them, and they became grim anddetermined. 

The Kid learned that there were thirty-four men in the outfit. Thirty-four against at least a hundred! The odds were great, but theTexan had faced greater ones alone. With the train in the hands ofModoc--one of their own men--the marauders expected to take the outfitby surprise. Thanks to the Texan, all that was changed now. He gaveorders that the wagons be shifted into a circle, with the children andwomen on the inside behind shelter. The men were posted in the wagonsand behind them, Kid Wolf giving each man his station. 

"Do not fiah until I give the coyote yell, " he said. "And then keepyo' sights down. Shoot low!"

Kid Wolf himself took a position between two of the covered wagons, hishorse Blizzard within quick call. In the narrow chink, just wideenough for him to ride his horse through, he placed three loaded Sharps. 50-caliber rifles, ready for quick use. 

They had not long to wait. Only a few minutes had elapsed after thewagons had been shifted when Kid Wolf saw a body of horsemenapproaching from the west. It was The Terror's band! Dust stirred bythe hoofs of a hundred galloping horses rose in the air like brownthunderclouds. 

As the grim defenders watched, the band split up, divided into tworapidly moving lines, and began to surround the train in a sweepingcircle. The circle formed, began to close in. Kid Wolf peered alongthe barrel of one of the Sharps rifles. Then, after what seemedminutes, he uttered his coyote cry:

"Yip, yip, yip-ee!"

It was followed by a terrific burst of fire from the wagon train. Thesignal had been given at the opportune time. The bandits faltered. They hadn't expected this! The Terror had hoped to find the wagontrain still asleep and defenseless. The rolling powder smoke clearedaway somewhat, and it could be seen that a dozen or more of theattackers had melted out of their saddles, like butter on a hot stove. 

But the raiders, outnumbering the defenders and realizing it, stillcame on. Kid Wolf threw aside the rifle and drew his twin . 45s. Deliberately stepping out into the open, he fanned the hammers from thelevel of his hip. His waistline, as he swung the thundering Colts fromside to side, seemed to be alive with sputtering red sparks. Smokerolled around him. The bandits in front of him dropped by twos andthrees. 

Holes appeared in this side of the bandits' circle--holes that did notclose up. Riderless mounts dashed about frantically, their reinstrailing; wounded horses added to the uproar with their death screams. It was a battle!

Seeing that the force of the charge had been broken on this flank, KidWolf ran across to reenforce the other sides of the circle. At onepoint the outlaws had already broken through the circle of wagons. KidWolf sent three screaming slugs toward them, and they fell back indisorder, leaving one desperado stretched out behind them. 

Reloading his guns, Kid Wolf climbed upon one of the wagons and againopened fire; this time with such an effect that all sides of theattacking circle began to break and fall back to safety. Mere force ofnumbers does not always count in a gun fight. Not more than half adozen of the defenders had been hit. The survivors raised a heartycheer. Kid Wolf's generalship had beaten back the first outlaw charge!

It was then that Modoc played his final card. Hoping to gain theprotection of the outlaws, and fearing the wagon train's vengeance, heslipped out of the circle of covered wagons and, on foot, beganrunning. His goal was ahead of him, but he never reached it. His latecomrades--the bandits--evidently thought he had played the traitor withthem, for they fired on him relentlessly. He fell, then rose again toscramble on. Bullets kicked up the sod around him. Others plumpedinto his body. Again he fell, this time to stay. His body was riddledwith scores of bullets. So died the traitor. 

Kid Wolf knew that a certain advantage always lies with the offensive. Defenders haven't the power of attackers. The Texan decided to risk acounter-charge. He knew that it might break down the courage of thebandit band. At least it would be a surprise. He called forvolunteers. 

"I want a dozen men who can shoot straight from the back of a runnin'hoss, " he said. "It'll be dangerous. Who's with me?"

Immediately more men than he wanted spoke up. Quickly choosing twelve, he gave them their orders. 

"At the next chahge, " the Texan drawled, "we'll ride out theah and give'em somethin' to think about. If I'm right, I think they'll scattah. If I'm wrong--well, they'll probably wipe us out. Are yo' game?"

The men were game, as the Texan soon found out. They were fighting fortheir families, as well as their own lives and possessions. 

Again the attacking line of horsemen formed, and in a cloud of dust, they came at the wagon train. Their bullets cut slashes in thecovered-wagon tops, smashed into wheels and wagon trees, and kicked upgeysers of sand. They would be hard to stop this time!

But Kid Wolf gave the word for his own charge. He had several reasonsfor doing this. It amounted to folly in the eyes of some, but theTexan knew the value of a countercharge. And if he could bring downThe Terror himself, he knew the battle was as good as won. Out of thewagon circle they came, saddle leather creaking and guns blazing! TheKid, on his snow-white charger, was in the lead. A lane opened in thebandit ranks as if by magic. 

Kid Wolf pressed his quick advantage. His movement had taken theoutlaw band by surprise. The utter recklessness of it shook theirnerve. 

Two of the wagon men fell. The others kept on, clearing a swathe withtheir sputtering Colts. 

The bandits hesitated. The defenders who had remained behind thewagons kept up their deadly barrage. They were dropping accuratelyplaced shots where they would be sure to do the most good. Then TheTerror's band retreated, broke formation. The retreat became a rout--amad get-away with every man for himself. Outnumbered as they were, thedefenders were making more than a good account of themselves. 

Kid Wolf's eyes sought for The Terror himself--and found him. His redcoat and gay trappings were easy to locate, even in that mad stampede. The bandit chief was attempting to make his get-away. The Texan, however, cut him off after a hard, furious ride. 

Separated from his men, The Terror turned in his saddle, wildlyattempting to get the drop on Kid Wolf as he came in. One of hisgold-mounted pistols flashed. The bullet hissed over the Texan's head. He had dropped low in the saddle. 

The Terror whirled his horse at Kid Wolf's. He realized that it was afight to the end. He fired his other weapon almost in the Texan'sface. The Kid, however, had pulled the trigger of his own gun just afraction of a second before. The Terror's aim was spoiled just enoughso that the bullet whined wide. The bandit chief collapsed in hissaddle. He had been hit in the shoulder. 

The Texan closed in. There was a violent shock as Blizzard thuddedinto the bandit's horse. The Terror, eyes glittering wickedly throughthe openings in his velvet mask, slid from his horse, landing feetfirst. With a glittering knife in his unwounded hand, he made a springtoward Kid Wolf. The blade would have buried itself in the Texan'sthigh had not The Kid whirled his horse just in time. 

"All right, " said the Texan coolly. "We have it out with ouah hands. "

Holstering his guns, he leaped from his horse. He scorned even to usehis bowie knife, as he advanced toward the bandit at a half crouch. The Terror thought he had the advantage. The Kid's hands were bare ofany weapons. With a snarl, the bandit chief leaped forward, knifeswishing aloft. Never had Kid Wolf struck so hard a blow as he struckthen! Added to the power of his own tremendous strength and leveragewas The Terror's own speed as he lunged in. Fist met jaw with asickening thud. 

The Terror was a big and heavy man. His weight was added to Kid Wolf'sas both men came together. There was a snap as his head wentback--went back at too great an angle. His neck was broken instantly. Without a moan, the bandit chief dropped limply to the sand, deadbefore he ever reached it!

Kid Wolf took a deep breath. Then he bent over the fallen man andjerked the velvet mask from his features. He gasped in amazement. Itwas Quiroz! For a moment the Texan could not believe his eyes. Thenthe truth began to dawn on him. The Terror and the tyrannical governorof Santa Fe were one and the same! Quiroz had led a double life foryears, and had covered his tracks well. So powerful had he become thathe had received the appointment as governor. No wonder he had refusedKid Wolf aid! And no wonder he had sought his life!

"Well, I guess his account is paid, " said Kid Wolf grimly. "The Terrorof the Staked Plains is no more. "

He looked about him. The remainder of the bandits had made a thoroughretreat, leaving a large number of their companions on the plain behindthem. Their defeat had been complete and decisive. 

"_Bueno_, " said Kid Wolf. 

 "Oh, the cows stampede on the Rio Grande! The Rio! The sand do blow, and the winds do wail, But I want to be wheah the cactus stands! The Rio! And the rattlesnake shakes his ornery tail!"

The buckskin-clad singer raised his hat in happy farewell. The peopleof the wagon train answered his shout:

"Shore yo' won't go on with us?"

"We shore thank yuh for what yuh done, Kid!"

Others took up the cry. They hated to lose this smiling young Texan'scompany. He had saved them from death--and worse. Not only that, butthey had learned to like him and depend on him. 

The Texan, however, declined to stay longer. Nor would he listen toany thanks. 

"Adios, " he called, "and good luck! Wheahevah the weakah side needs achampion, theah yo'll find Kid Wolf. Somehow I always find lots to do. Heah's hopin' yo' won't evah need mah services again. "

He caught sight of a golden-haired child beaming at him from one of thewagons. 

"Good-by, Jimmy Lee!" he called. 

He whirled in his saddle, touched Blizzard with the reins, and rodeaway at a long lope. 

CHAPTER VI

ON THE CHISHOLM TRAIL

From the sweeps of high country bordering close upon Santa Fe, it wasno easy journey to the Chisholm Trail, even for a trail-eating horse ofBlizzard's caliber. But The Kid had taken his time. His ultimatedestination, unless fate altered his plans, was his own homeland--thesandy Rio Grande country. 

More than anything else, it was the thirst for adventure that led thebuckskin-clad rider to the beaten cattle road which cut throughwilderness and prairie from Austin to the western Kansas beef markets. 

And now, after following the trail for one uneventful day, Kid Wolf hadleft it--in search of water. A line of lofty cottonwoods on theeastern horizon marked the course of a meandering stream and The Kidhad been glad of the chance to turn Blizzard's head toward it. Horseand rider, framed in the intense blue of the western sky, formed apicture of beauty and grace as they drummed through the unmarkedwastes. The Kid, riding "light" in his saddle, his supple body risingand falling with the rhythm of his loping mount and yet firm in hisseat, dominated that picture. His face was tanned to the color of thebuckskin shirt he wore, and a vast experience, born of hardship anddanger on desert and mountain, was in his eyes--eyes that weresometimes gray and sometimes steely blue. Just now they were ascarefree as the skies above. 

A stranger might have wondered just what Kid Wolf's business was. Hedid not appear to be a cow-puncher, or a trapper or an army scout. Areata was coiled at his saddle, and two big Colts swung from a beadedIndian belt. No matter how curious the stranger might be, he wouldhave thought twice before asking questions. 

The horse, in color like snow with the sun on it, was splitting thebreeze--and yet the stride was easy and tireless. Blizzard, big andimmensely strong, was as fast as the winds that swept the Panhandle. 

The stream, Kid Wolf discovered, was a fairly large creek bordered witha wild tangle of bushes, vines, and creeper-infested trees. It was noeasy matter to force one's way through the choked growth, especiallywithout making a great deal of noise. 

But The Kid never believed in advertising his presence unnecessarily. He had the uncanny Apache trick of slipping silently throughunderbrush, even while on horseback. The country of the IndianNations, at that time, was a territory infested with peril. And evennow, although he seemed to be alone on the prairie, he was cautious. 

Some distance before he reached it, he saw the creek, swollen and brownfrom rains above. So quiet was his approach that even a watermoccasin, sunning itself on the river bank, did not see him. 

Suddenly the white horse pricked up its ears. Kid Wolf, too, had heardthe sound, and he pulled up his mount to watch and listen, still as astatue. 

Splash! Splash! A rider was bringing his horse down to the creek at awalk. The sounds came from above and from across the stream. Thewater on that side had overflowed its bank and lay across the sand inblue puddles. In a few minutes Kid Wolf caught sight of a man on astrawberry roan, coming at a leisurely gait. As it was a white man, and apparently a cattleman, The Kid's vigilance relaxed a little. 

In another moment, though, his heart gave a jump. And then, evenbefore his quick muscles could act in time to save the newcomer it hadhappened. From behind a bush clump, a figure had popped up, rifleleveled. A thin jet of flame spat out of the rusty gun barrel, followed by a cracking report and a little burst of steaming smoke. 

The man on the strawberry roan lurched wildly, groaned, and pitchedheadlong from his saddle, landing in the creek edge with a loud splash. One foot still stuck in a stirrup, and for a few yards the frightenedpony dragged him through the muddied water. Then something gave way, and the murdered man plumped into the water and disappeared. 

The killer stood on his feet, upright. He laughed--a chilling, mirthless rattle--and began to reload his old-pattern rifle. He was ahalf-breed Indian. The dying sun glistened on his coppery, stronglymuscled flesh, for he was stripped to the waist. He wore trousers anda hat, but his hair hung nearly to his shoulders in a coarse snarl, andhis feet were shod with dirty moccasins. 

Kid Wolf's eyes crackled. He had seen deliberate murder committed, anunsuspecting man shot down from ambush. His voice rang out:

"Drop that rifle and put up yo' hands!"

The soft drawl of the South was in his accents, but there was nothingsoft about his tone. The half-breed whirled about, then slowlyloosened his hold on his gun. It thudded to the grass. On a line withhis bare chest was one of Kid Wolf's big-framed . 45s. 

The snaky eyes of the half-breed were filled with panic, but as The Kiddid not shoot or seem to be about to do so, they began to glitter withmockery. Kid Wolf dismounted, keeping his gun leveled. 

"Why did yo' shoot that man?" he demanded. 

The half-breed was sullenly silent for a long moment. "What yuh doabout it?" he sneered finally. 

Kid Wolf's smile was deadly. His answer took the murderer by surprise. The half-breed suddenly found his throat grasped in a grip of steel. The fingers tightened relentlessly. The Indian's beady eyes began tobulge; his tongue protruded. With all his strength he struggled, butKid Wolf handled him with one arm, as easily as if he had been a child!

"Yo're goin' to answer fo' yo' crime--that's what I'm goin' to do aboutit!" The Kid declared. 

The half-breed's yell was wild and unearthly, when the grip at histhroat was released. All the fight was taken out of him. Kid Wolfshook him until his teeth rattled, picked him up bodily and hurled himacross his saddle. 

"I'm takin' yo' to the law, " he drawled. "I might kill yo' now and bejustified, too. But I believe in doin' things in the right way. "

At the mention of "law, " the half-breed snarled contemptuously. 

"Ain't no law, " he grunted, "southwest o' Dodge. Yuh no take me there. Too far. "

Kid Wolf knew that the killer was right. Still, on the prairie, menmake their own commandments. 

"Theah's a new town, I hear, not far from heah--Midway, I think theycall it, " he drawled. "Yo're goin' theah with me, and if theah's nolaw in Midway, I'll see that some laws are passed. And yo' won't needthat, eithah!" he added suddenly. 

The knife that the half-breed had attempted to draw tinkled to theground as The Kid gave the treacherous wrist a quick twist. 

"Step along, Blizzahd, " sang out Kid Wolf in his Southern drawl. "Backto the trail, as soon as we get a drink of watah, then no'th!"

At the mention of Midway, the half-breed's expression had changed toone of snakelike cunning. But if The Kid noted his half-concealedsmile, he paid no attention to it. They were soon on their way. 

Always, even in the savage lands beyond civilization, Kid Wolf tried totake sides with the weak against the strong, with the right against thewrong. And on more than one occasion he had found himself in hot waterbecause of it. 

The average man of the plains, upon seeing the murder committed, wouldhave considered it none of his business, and would have let well enoughalone. Another type would have killed the half-breed on generalprinciples. Kid Wolf however, determined that the murderer would begiven a fair trial and then punished. 

Again striking the Chisholm Trail--a well-beaten road several hundredyards wide--he veered north. Thousands upon thousands of longhornsfrom Texas and New Mexico had beaten that trail. This was the halfwaypoint. Kid Wolf had heard of a new settlement in the vicinity, and, judging from the landmarks, he estimated it to be only a few milesdistant. 

In the meantime, the sun went down, creeping over the level horizon toleave the world in shadows which gradually deepened into dusk. All thewhile, the half-breed maintained a stoical silence. Kid Wolf, keepinga careful eye on him, but ignoring him otherwise, hummed a fragment ofsong:

 "Oh, theah's hombres poison mean, on the Rio! And theah's deadly men at Dodge, no'th o' Rio! And to-day, from what I've seen, Theah's some bad ones in between, And I aim to keep it clean, beyond the Rio!"

Stars began to twinkle cheerily in the black vault overhead. Then TheKid made out a few points of yellow light on the plain ahead of them. 

"That must be Midway, " he mused to himself. "Those aren't stahs, orcamp fiahs. Oil lamps mean a settlement. "

Camps of any size were few and far between on the old Chisholm Trail. The moon was creeping up as Kid Wolf and his prisoner arrived, and byits light, as well as the few lights of the town, he could see that theword "town" flattered the place known as "Midway. "

There were a few scattered sod houses, and on the one street were twolarge buildings, facing each other on opposite sides of the road. Thefirst was a saloon, brilliantly lighted in comparison to thesemidarkness of the other, which seemed to be a general store. A signabove it read:

 THE IDEL HOUR SALOONE

Below it, in similar letters, the following was spelled out, or rathermisspelled:

 JACK HARDY OWNER AND PROPRIATER

As the only life of Midway seemed to be centered here, Kid Wolf drew uphis horse, Blizzard, dismounted, and dragged his prisoner to theswinging green doors that opened into the Idle Hour Saloon. 

Pushing the half-breed through by main strength, he found himself in abig room, lighted by three oil lamps and reflectors suspended frombeams in the roof. For all the haze of tobacco smoke, the place wasagleam with light. For a moment Kid Wolf stood still in astonishment. 

To find such a group of men together at one place, and especially sucha remote place, was surprising. A score or more of booted-and-spurredloungers were at the bar and at the gambling tables. A roulette wheelwas spinning at full clip, its little ivory ball dancing merrily, andat other tables were layouts of faro and various games of chance. Cards were being riffled briskly at a poker game near the door, and alittle knot of men were in a corner playing California Jack. 

Kid Wolf took in these details at a glance. What puzzled him was thatthese men did not appear to be cattlemen or followers of any calling, unless possibly it was the profession of the six-gun. All were heavilyarmed, and although that fact in itself was by no means unusual, TheKid did not like the looks of several of the men he saw there. Somewere half-breeds of his prisoner's own stripe. 

At The Kid's entrance with his still-struggling prisoner, every onestared. The bartender--a bulky fellow with a scarred face--paused inthe act of pouring a drink, his eyes widening. The quiet shuffle ofcards ceased, the wheel of fortune slowed to a clicking stop, and everyone looked up in sudden silence. 

Kid Wolf dragged the half-breed to the center of the room, holding himby the scruff of the neck. 

"Men, " he said quietly, "this man is a murderah!" In a few more words, he told the gathering what had happened. 

From the very first, something seemed to warn The Kid of approachingtrouble. Was it his imagination, or was a look flashed between thehalf-breed and several of the men in the room? He sensed an alerttenseness in the faces of those who were listening. One of the men, whom the Kid immediately put down as the owner of the saloon--JackHardy--was staring insolently. 

Hardy was flashily dressed, wearing fancy-stitched riding boots, afancy vest, and a short black coat, under which peeped the butt of asilver-mounted . 44. Kid Wolf's intuition told him that he was the manhe must eventually deal with. 

The saloon owner had been watching the faro game. Now, having heardKid Wolf out, he turned his back and deliberately faced the layoutagain. 

"Go on with the game, " he sneered to the dealer. 

There was a world of contempt in his silky voice, and Kid Wolf flushedunder his tan. Hardy pretended to ignore the visitor completely. Thefaro dealer slid one card and then another from his box; the casekeeper moved a button or two on his rack. Then the dealer raked in thewinnings from the losers. The game was going on as usual. Thegamblers, taking their cue from Jack Hardy, turned to their gamesagain. It was as if Kid Wolf had never existed. 

The Kid took a firmer hold on the wriggling half-breed. "Do yo' knowthis man?" he demanded of the proprietor. 

Hardy turned in annoyance, his black brows elevated sarcastically. 

"It's 'Tucumcari Pete, '" he mocked. "What is it to yuh?"

Looking at the faro lookout, perched on his high stool, he winked. Thelookout returned it knowingly. 

Kid Wolf's eyes blazed. He had told his story so that all could hear. None had paid it any attention. All these men, then, were dishonestand unfriendly toward law and order. 

"I want yo' to understand me, " he said in a voice he tried to makepatient. "This hombre--Tucumcari Pete, yo've called him--shot andkilled a man from ambush. Isn't there any law heah?"

With long, tapered fingers, Jack Hardy rolled a cigarette, placed itbetween his lips and leered insultingly. 

"There's only one law in Midway, " he laughed evilly, "and that law isthat all strangers must attend to their own business. Now I don't knowwho yuh are, but----"

"I'm Kid Wolf, " came the soft-spoken drawl, "from Texas. My enemiesusually call me by mah last name. "

A man brushed near the Kid; his eye caught the Texan's significantly. But instead of speaking, he merely thrust a wadded cigarette paper inthe Kid's hand as he passed by. So quickly was it done that nobody, itseemed just then, had seen the movement. Kid Wolf's heart gave alittle leap. There was some mystery here! If he had made a friend, was that friend afraid to speak to him? Was there a note in that paperball?

Hardy's eyes met the Texan's. They were insect eyes, beady andglittering black. 

"All right, " he snarled. "Mr. Wolf, you clear out!"

The Texan's fiery Southern temper had reached its breaking point. Itsnapped. In a twinkling, things were happening. Using quick, almostsuperhuman strength, he picked up the half-breed by the neck and oneleg and hurled him, like a thunderbolt, into the group at the farotable!

Tucumcari Pete's wild yell was drowned out by the tremendous crash ofsplintering wood and thudding flesh, as the half-breed's body hurtledthrough the air to smash Jack Hardy down to the floor with the impact. 

The table went into kindling wood; chips and markers flew! A chairbanged against the lookout's high perch, just as he was bringing hissawed-off shotgun to his shoulder. 

_Br-r-r-ram, bang!_ The double charge went into the ceiling, as thelookout toppled to the floor to join his companions, now a mass ofwaving arms and legs. 

Kid Wolf's twin . 45s had come out as if by magic. He ducked low. Hedid not need eyes in the back of his head to know that the men at thebar would open fire at the drop of the hat! A bullet winged venomouslyover him. Another one whined three inches from his ear. At the sameinstant, a bottle, hurled by the bartender, smashed to fragmentsagainst the wall. 

But with one quick spring, Kid Wolf had his back against thegreen-shuttered door. For the first time, his Colts splattered redflame and smoke. There were three distinct reports, but they came sorapidly that they blended into one sullen, ear-shattering roar. He hadaimed at the swinging lamps, and they went out so quickly that itseemed they had been extinguished by the force of one giant breath. Glass tinkled on the saloon floor, and all was wrapped in darkness. The Texan's voice rang out like the clang of steel on granite:

"Yo're goin' to have law! Kid Wolf law--and yo' may not like it aswell as the othah kind!"

A score of revolver slugs, aimed at the sound of his voice, sentshowers of splinters flying from the green-shuttered doors. The Texan, though, had taken care not to remain in the line of fire. 

When the inmates of the Idle Hour swarmed out, looking for vengeance, they were disappointed. Kid Wolf and his horse, Blizzard, were nowhereto be seen!

CHAPTER VII

M'CAY'S RECRUIT

The Texan, after circling the town of Midway, rode in again. It wasnot his way to leave a job unfinished, with only a threat behind. Thecigarette-paper note had aroused his curiosity to a fever heat. Heread it by the light of the moon. It consisted of threepencil-scrawled words:

 GO CROSS STREET

Across the wide street from the saloon, there was but one building. Was it here that he was to go? Was it a trap of some kind? Hedismissed the latter possibility and decided to go at once to the bigframe general store, using all the caution possible. 

Approaching the place from behind, he looked it over carefully beforedismounting. As Blizzard was conspicuous in the moonlight, he left himin a thick clump of bushes and slipped through the shadows on foot. Ashe neared the building, he discovered that it was not merely of frame, as he had at first thought. The boards in front masked a fortress oflogs. It was so planned that a handful of defenders might hold itagainst great odds. 

As Kid Wolf knocked softly on the rear door, he wondered if it had beenbuilt merely as a security against the renegade Indians, or for someother and deeper purpose. For a few minutes after he knocked, therewas silence, then the door slowly opened. The Texan found himselflooking into the barrel of a . 45!

"What do yuh want here?"

Framed in the doorway, the Kid saw a grim young face glaring at himover the sights of the six-gun. 

"Speak quick!" said the voice again. 

"I will, " the Texan said, "if yo'll kindly take that . 45 out of my eye. I can talk bettah when I'm not usin' yo' gun barrel fo' a telescope. "

"That gun, " said the other sharply, "is goin' to stay just where I'vegot it!"

But it didn't. Kid Wolf's left hand snapped up under the gun andrapped smartly at just the right spot the wrist that held it. It was atrick blow--one that paralyzed the nerves for a second. The Coltdropped from the boy's quickly extended fingers and fell neatly intoKid Wolf's right hand! All had happened so quickly that the youthhadn't time to squeeze the trigger. Before the amazed young man couldrecover himself, the Texan handed over the gun, butt first. 

"Here yo' are, " he drawled humorously. "To show yo' I mean well, I'mgivin' it back. I do wish, though, that yo'd kindly point it someother way while I'm talkin'. "

The manner of the other changed at this. After losing his gun, he hadexpected a quick bullet. 

"Guess yo're all right, " he grinned slowly. "Come on in. "

Passing through the door, Kid Wolf noted the thick loophole-piercedwalls and other provisions for defense. Rifles stood on their stocksat intervals, ready to be snatched up at a moment's notice. 

"Oh, dad!" the youth called in a low voice, as they entered the bigmain room of the building. 

Six men were in the place, and The Kid took stock of them with oneappraising glance. Although just as heavily armed as the factionacross the street in the Idle Hour had been, they were of a differenttype. They were cattlemen, some old, some young. All looked up, startled. One of them got to his feet. He was a huge man and veryfat. His face was round and good-humored, although his puckered blueeyes told of force and character. 

"What's the matter, 'Tip'?" he asked of Kid Wolf's escort. "Who isthis man?"

The Texan smiled and bowed courteously. "Maybe I should explain, sah, "he drawled. "And aftah I'm done, perhaps yo'll have some informationto give me. "

He began his story, but was soon interrupted by an exclamation of angerand grief from the boy's father. 

"A man on a strawberry roan, yuh say? And murdered! Why, that wasHodgson--one of my best men! Go on, young man! Go on with yore story!"

In a few words, the Texan told of bringing the half-breed to the saloonacross the street, and of his reception there. 

"They-all told me to cleah out, " he finished whimsically, "so I cleahedout the Idle Hour. Or rathah, I got the job started. Some one theah, "he added, "handed me this note. That's why I'm heah. "

The big man looked at it, and his face lighted. "A short fella gaveyuh that? I thought so! That was George Durham--one o' my men. He'sthere as a spy. "

"As a spy?" the Texan repeated blankly. "I'm afraid this is gettin'too deep fo' me, Mistah----"

"McCay is the name. 'Old Beef McCay, they call me, " he chuckled. "This lad, yuh've already met. He's Tip McCay, and my son. And you?"

"Kid Wolf, sah, from Texas--just 'Kid' to my friends. "

The five punchers, who had been listening with intense interest to theTexan's story, came forward to shake hands. They were introduced asCaldwell, Anderson, Blake, Terry White, and "Scotty. " All werekeen-eyed, resolute men. 

"Now I'll tell yuh what this is all about, " said the elder McCay. "When I spoke of a spy, I meant that Durham is there to see if he canfind out why Jack Hardy has imported those gunmen, and what he plans todo. Yuh see, I'm a cattle buyer. At this halfway point I buy lots o'herds from owners who don't wish to drive 'em through to Dodge. Then Isell 'em there at a profit--when I can. "

"And Jack Hahdy?" drawled the Texan. 

"Hardy is nothin' more or less than a cattle rustler--a dealer instolen herds on a large scale. He's swore to get me, at the time whenit'll do him the most good. In other words, at the time when he canget the most loot. 

"So far, " McCay went on, "there's been no bloodshed. To-day it seemshe's had Hodgson murdered. Looks as if things are about ripe for war!"

"He seems to have mo' men than yo', " murmured Kid Wolf. 

"Yuh don't know the half of it. A dozen more of his hired gunmen rodesouth on the Chisholm Trail this mornin'. "

"What does that signify?"

"Plenty, " McCay explained. "Six o' my men are drivin' fifteen hundredsteers up this way. Quite a haul, yuh see, for Hardy. They're duehere tonight. If they don't get here----" The big man's wide mouthhardened. 

"But I'm afraid I'm a poor host, " he added apologetically. "Yuh'llhave supper and stay the night with us, I'm sure. Tip, you an' Scottygo out and bring in The Kid's hoss. "

The Texan consented, thanking him, and all began to make preparationsfor the night. The big general store seemed more like a fort in timeof war than anything else. Some of the men slept on the counters inthe main room. A place was made for Kid Wolf in the rear. Sentrieswere on watch during the entire night, which passed uneventfully. 

In the morning, just as the dawn was glowing in the east, the Texan wasawakened by a horrified cry. All rushed to the front windows. Acrossthe wide street, over the Idle Hour Saloon, a man was dangling, suspended from the roof by a rope! It was Durham--the man who hadgiven Kid Wolf the cigarette-paper note. Some one had seen him in theact, and the fiends had lynched him. 

"That settles it, " said Kid Wolf grimly, turning to McCay. "I reckonI'm throwin' in with yo'. My guns are at yo' service!"

It was a situation not uncommon in that wilderness where "the lawisn't, and the six-shooter is. " Kid Wolf, however, had never seen abolder attempt to trample on the rights of honest men. His veins beathot at the thought of it. And Jack Hardy seemed to have the power tosee it through to its murderous end. 

It was not long after the discovery of Durham's murder when Tip McCaybrought in a new note that had been pinned to the door. 

"It was put there durin' the night some time, probably by one o'Hardy's sneakin' half-breeds, because none o' our sentries saw any onethe whole night through, " Tip said. 

The note was roughly penciled on a sheet of yellow paper, and themessage it carried was significant:

Ef yu will all walk out of their without yore guns we promiss no harmwill com to yu. Ef yuh dont, we will get yu to the last man. Wealreddy got yore cattel. This offer dont go fer Kid Wolf. We no hestheir and we aim to kill him!

"They don't like me. " The Texan laughed. "Well, I don't want 'em to. What do yo' intend to do, sah?"

The elder McCay's face was very red. His fingers, as he tore theinsolent letter to bits, were trembling with anger. 

"I say let 'em hop to it!" he jerked out. "I ain't givin' in toanybody!"

The others cheered. And it was a fighting group of men who gatheredfor a conference as to the defense of the store. It was agreed thattheir position was a serious one, outnumbered as they were. 

Just how serious, they soon found out, for at the rising of the sun--asif it had been a signal--a burst of gunfire blazed out from the saloonacross the street. Splinters flew from the logs as bullets thuddedinto them. Several whined through the two windows and crashed into thewall. 

Kid Wolf took an active part in quickly getting ready for a stand. Thewindows and the doors were heavily barricaded, at his suggestion. Sacks of flour, salt, and other supplies were piled over the openings, as these were best for stopping lead. Mattresses were stuffed behindthe barricade for further protection, and just enough space was leftclear to allow a gun to be aimed through. 

The volley from the Idle Hour had injured no one. The firing continuedmore or less steadily, however, and an occasional slug ripped its waybetween the logs. Jack Hardy's gang were firing at the chinks. 

Up until this time, the defenders had not fired a shot. Even now, after the preparations had been made, Kid Wolf advised against wastingammunition. The rustler gang were firing from the cover of the saloon, and were well protected. 

"Hunt up all the guns heah, " the Kid cried, "and load 'em. If theyrush us, we'll need to shoot fast!"

Several rifles were hunted up--Winchesters and two muzzle-loadingSharps . 50s. There were also a powder-and-ball buffalo gun of the oldpattern, and, to Kid Wolf's delight, a sawed-off, double-barreledshotgun. 

In the light of the early morning, each detail of the grim scene wasbrought out minutely. It was a picture Kid Wolf never forgot! Acrossthe street that formed the No Man's Land was the saloon, wreathed inpowder smoke, as guns spat sullen flame. And swinging slightly abovethe splintered green-shuttered doors was the dead body of Durham, neckstretched horribly, head on breast. It seemed a grotesque phantom, warning them of death to come. 

The horses had been run into the back of the store itself, as aprotection against flying bullets. Kid Wolf suggested that they besaddled, so that they would be ready for use if occasion demanded it. 

"We might have to make a run fo' it at any time, " he warned. 

The firing from the saloon went on for nearly an hour. Then there wasa sudden lull. 

"Look out now!" The Kid exclaimed. "Looks like they mean to rush us!"

"We'll cure 'em o' that!" Old Beef McCay cried grimly. He picked upthe sawed-off shotgun. 

The Texan was right. A yell went up from the saloon, and a dozen menrushed out, firing as they came. Six others carried a heavy beam, evidently torn from the interior of the Idle Hour. It was theirintention to use this as a battering-ram to smash in the door of thestore. 

The cry from the defenders was "Let 'em have it!"

The terrific thunder of the shotgun and the buffalo rifle blended withthe loud roar of six-guns. Hammers fell with deadly regularity. Fireblazed from every loophole and shooting space. 

When the smoke cleared away, Tip McCay emitted a whoop that the othersechoed. The charge had been stopped, and very effectively. The bigbeam lay on the ground, with the writhing bodies of four men around it. The "scatter gun" had accounted for three of them; Kid Wolf had put theother out of business with bullets through both legs. A little to oneside were two more of the outlaws, one of whom had been brought down byTip McCay, the other by the lantern-jawed, slow-spoken plainsman knownas Scotty. The others had beaten a quick retreat to the shelter of thesaloon. 

CHAPTER VIII

ONE GAME HOMBRE

Hardy's gang did not attempt another rush. They had learned theirlesson. Keeping under cover, they continued firing steadily, however, and their bullets began to do damage. Every crack and chink was atarget. 

In the afternoon, more riders arrived to swell the Hardy faction. Somewere ugly, half-clothed Indians, armed with rusty guns and bows andarrows. The odds were steadily increasing. 

As there was ample food and water in the storehouse to last for severaldays, the besieged had no worries on that score. McCay knew, though, and Kid Wolf realized, that nightfall would bring trouble. Hardy wasstung now by the loss of several men, and he would not do things byhalves. He would show no mercy. 

The first casualty took place in midafternoon. Anderson, in the act ofaiming his revolver through a loophole, was hit between the eyes by abullet and instantly killed. The number of men defending the store wasnow cut down to seven. 

Toward nightfall, tragedy overtook them, full force. Old Beef McCaywas in the act of reloading a gun when a treacherous bullet zippedspitefully through an opening between two logs and caught him low inthe chest. The impact sent him staggering against the wall, his round, moonlike face white and drawn. 

"Dad!" called out Tip, in an agony of grief. 

He and Kid Wolf rushed to the wounded man, supporting his great weightas it slowly sagged. 

"Got me--son!" the cattleman jerked out. 

Quickly the Texan tore away his shirt. He did not have to examine thewound to see how deadly it was; one glance was enough. Shot a fewinches under the heart, McCay was dying on his feet. 

"I'm done--all right, " he grunted. "Listen, Tip. And you, Kid Wolf. I know yo're a true-blue friend. I want yuh to recover those cattle, if yuh ever get out of here alive. Yuh promise to try?" He turnedglazing eyes at the Texan. "The cattle should go--to Tip's mother. She's in Dodge City. "

"Believe me, sah, " promised Kid Wolf earnestly, "if we evah get out ofthis trap alive, Tip and I will do ouah best. "

The stricken man's face lighted. He grasped his son, Tip, with onehand, the Texan with the other. 

"I'll pass on easier now. "

Suddenly he drew himself up to his full height of well over six feet, squared his enormous shoulders, and with crimson welling from hiswound, walked firmly and steadily to the door and began kicking thebarricade aside. 

"What are yuh doin'?" one of the defenders cried, thinking he wasdelirious from his hurt. 

McCay, fighting against the weakness that threatened to overcome him, turned with a smile, grim and terrible. 

"I'm goin' out there, " he said, "to take some of those devils--with me!"

In vain Kid Wolf and Tip attempted to restrain him. The old man wavedthem back. 

"I'm done for, anyway, " he said. "I haven't got ten minutes to live. What if they do fill me with lead? I'll get one or two while they'redoin' it!"

He seemed stronger now than ever. Sheer will power was keeping him onhis feet. Seizing two revolvers, one in each big fist, he wabbledthrough the door. 

With horror-widened eyes, they watched his reeling progress. Hefaltered to the hitch rack with bullets humming all around him. Heclung to it for a moment, then went on, stalking toward the Idle Hourlike grim vengeance! His guns sputtered red fire and bursts of blackpowder smoke. Hit time after time--they could see the dust fly fromhis clothing as he staggered along under the dreadful impacts--he keptgoing. It was glorious, terrible!

Tip hid his eyes, with a despairing cry. Kid Wolf watched, his facewhite under his sunburn. 

Up to the very door of the Hardy refuge, the old man walked, his gunshammering claps of thunder. Hit several times in the body, he sprawledonce and fell, but was on his feet again before the smoke drifted away. He plunged through the door, and The Kid saw two men drop under hisblazing guns. Then McCay, too, fell--for the last time. 

"Yo' dad was one game hombre, Tip, " murmured the Texan, putting acomforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "Let's hope that when ouah turncomes, we can go as bravely. "

He had never seen such an exhibition of undaunted courage. Althoughthe tragedy had clutched at his heart, the spectacle had thrilled him, too. He knew that if he should escape, he would do his best to makegood his promise to Old Beef McCay!

The McCay store was surrounded on all sides, and its four walls werescarred and pitted with bullet holes. And night was coming on rapidly. Kid Wolf saw the peril of their position. He knew, only too well, thatthe darkness would add to their troubles. 

Twilight was deepening into dusk. Soon it became dark, and the moonwould not be up for an hour. Kid Wolf, Tip McCay, and their fourcompanions were never more alert. But even their keen eyes could notwatch everything. 

Young McCay was very pale. His father's death had touched him deeply, and fury against his killers burned in his glance. The others, too, were grim, thinking not of their own peril, but of the murderous Hardygang. Thirsty for vengeance, they kept their eyes glued to theirpeepholes, fingers on gun triggers. 

Tip had found a friend in Kid Wolf. No words were wasted on sympathynow, or regrets, but Tip knew that the drawling Texan understood. 

There was little shooting being done now, and the suspense was tellingon the nerves of all of them. What was Hardy up to? Would he againattempt to batter down the door and force a way in, under cover ofdarkness this time? But they were not left long in doubt. 

"I smell smoke!" cried Blake. 

Immediately afterward a sharp, crackling sound came to their ears. Hardy's gang had set fire to the store! Under cover of darkness, oneof the slinking Indians had crept up and ignited a pile of oil-soakedrags against the logs of the building. The flames rose high, lickinghungrily upward. 

"Get water!" some one shouted. 

A bucketful or two from their supply tossed accurately through aloophole by Kid Wolf extinguished the blaze before it could risehigher. It was a close call, and it showed them what to expect now. The Indian's mistake had been in setting his fire where it could bereached by the defenders. 

"We were pretty blamed lucky, " Caldwell began. "If thet fire----"

"Not so lucky, " sang out the Texan. "Look at _that_!"

From the direction of the saloon, a half dozen streaks of flame shot upinto the sky like so many rockets. Fire whistled in the wind. Thestreaks were burning arrows, fired by Hardy's red-skinned cutthroats!

"That settles it!" groaned Tip resignedly. "They're fallin' on theroof!"

It was a wonder Hardy's evil brain hadn't thought of it before. Possibly some of his savage recruits had suggested it. At any rate, itwas more to the rustler chief's purpose than smashing in the door. Itwould soon be all over for the defenders now. 

In a breath, the roof was afire. Little jets of smoke began to spurtdown from the beams over their heads, and the flames were fanned into aroar by the wind. Desperately the little handful of fighters exchangedglances. Things looked black indeed. They could not remain long inthe burning death trap, and outside was Hardy's gang, waiting in thedarkness to shoot them down if they ventured to escape. 

"Steady, boys!" encouraged the Texan. "Theah may be a chance fo' usyet. "

But one of them--Blake--was overcome with terror. In spite of what theothers did to restrain him, he ran outside, tearing his way through thebarricade. His hands were raised wildly over his head in token ofsurrender. But that made no difference to Hardy. There was a dullspat, and Blake went sprawling, shot through the heart. 

"I hope nobody else tries that, " drawled The Kid. "When we go, let'sgo togethah. By the light of this fiah they can see the colah of ouaheyes. We haven't a chance in the world to escape that way. "

"We can't stay here and burn to death!" groaned Terry White. 

The heat and smoke were driving them out of the main room. Alreadyflames were creeping down the walls, and the air was as hot as thebreath of an oven. Their faces were blistered, their exposed handscooked. Tip's coat was afire, as all five of them made a dash for thesmaller room, taking the extra guns and ammunition with them. 

This gave them a short respite. As yet the fire had not reached thisapartment, although it would not take long. The smoke was soon sothick as nearly to be blinding. Stationing themselves at theloopholes, they began to work havoc with their rifles and revolvers. For the outlaws, bolder now, had ventured closer and made good targetsin the glare of the burning building. 

Suddenly there was a tremendous crash. The roof over the main room hadcome smashing in! Instantly the fire roared louder; tongues of itbegan to lick through the walls. Wood popped, and the heat becamemaddening. One side of the room became a mass of flames. Theimprisoned men began to wet their clothing with the little water thatwas left. 

"The stable!" ordered Kid Wolf. "Quick!"

The stable was built against the side of the store in the rear, and adoor of the smaller room opened into it. There they must make theirlast stand. 

The horses--and among them was Kid Wolf's white charger, Blizzard--weretrembling with fear. They seemed to know, as well as their masters, that they were in terrible danger. 

"We'll make ouah get-away with 'em, when the time comes, " drawled theTexan. 

"Not a chance in the world, Kid!" Tip groaned. 

"Just leave it to me, " was the quiet reply. "We've got a slim chance, if mah idea works. "

Fanned by the wind, the flames soon were eating at the stable. Andonce caught, it burned like tinder. The horses screamed as the firelicked at them, and all was confusion. To make matters worse, bulletsripped through continually. 

The Hardy band had gathered about the burning buildings in a closering, ready to shoot down any one the instant he showed himself. Thesituation looked hopeless. 

"Stay in there if yuh want to!" a voice shouted outside. "Burn up, ortake lead! It's all the same to us!"

The heat-tortured Scotty staggered to his feet and groped toward one ofthe plunging, screaming horses. 

"Lead is the easiest way, " he choked. "They'll get me, but I'm goin'to try and ride this hoss out o' here!"

"Wait a minute!" Kid Wolf cried. "All get yo' hosses ready and makethe break when I say the word. But not until!"

Gritting their teeth, they prepared to endure the baking heat for a fewminutes more. They did not know what Kid Wolf was going to do, butthey had faith that he would do something. And they knew, as thingsstood, that they could not hope for anything but death if they tried toescape now. 

The stable was a mass of flames. The walls were crumbling and fallingin. The Texan gave his final orders. 

"If any of us get through, " he gasped, "we'll meet on the ChisholmTrail--below heah. Ride hard, with heads low--when I say the word!"

Then Kid Wolf played his trump card. Upon leaving the store itself, hehad taken a small keg with him--a powder keg. Until now, none of theothers had noticed it. Holding it in his two hands, he darted throughthe door into the open! Bits of burning wood were all about him;flames licked at his boots as he stood upright, the keg over his head. 

"Scattah!" he shouted at the astonished Hardy gang. "I'm blowin' usall to kingdom come!"

The Texan made a glorious picture as he stood there, framed in red andyellow. Fire was under his feet and on every side. The glow of itilluminated his face, which was stained with powder smoke and blackenedby the flames. His eyes shone joyously, and a laugh of defiance andrecklessness was on his lips as he swung the poised keg aloft. 

The Hardy gang, frozen with terror for an instant, scattered. They ranlike frightened jack rabbits. To shoot Kid Wolf would have been easy, but none of them dared to attempt it. For if the keg was dropped, onespark would set it off. Overcome with panic, the ring of outlawsmelted into the night. 

The Texan gave the signal, and Tip, Caldwell, Scotty, and White toreout of the doorway on their frightened horses, heads low, scattering asthey came. Kid Wolf whistled sharply for Blizzard and pulled himselfeffortlessly into the saddle as the big white horse went by at a madgallop. He tossed away the keg as he did so. 

The Hardy faction began shooting then, but it was too late. Bulletshummed over the heads of the escaping riders, but not one found itsmark. 

Kid Wolf found himself riding alongside Tip McCay. The others hadtaken different routes. The sounds of guns behind them were rapidlygrowing fainter, and they were hidden by the pitch darkness. Kid Wolfheard Tip laughing to himself--a rather high-pitched, nervous laugh. 

"Are yo' all right, Tip?" sang out the Texan. 

"Great! Yore plan worked to a T! But do yuh know what was in thatpowder keg yuh used?"

"Yes, I knew all the time, " chuckled The Kid. "It wasn't powdah atall. It was lime. I found that out when I tried to load a Sharpsrifle from it. But just the same, Tip, the bluff worked!"

CHAPTER IX

THE NIGHT HERD

By the time the Hardy faction had given up the chase in disgust, Caldwell, White, and Scotty had joined Tip and the Texan some milesbelow Midway on the Chisholm Trail. The former three were jubilantover their unexpected release from the fire trap, but they agreed withthe Texan's first proposal. 

"We've got mo' work to do, boys, " he drawled. "If we wanted to, wecould give that gang the slip fo' good and make ouah get-away. Ithink, though, that yo' feel as I do. What do yo' say we rustle backthat herd o' longhorns that Hardy stole from Tip's dad?"

It meant running into danger again, and lots of it, but none of themhesitated. Kid Wolf had made his promise, and the others vowed to seehim through. It took them but a few moments to plan their recklessventure and get into action. 

The Kid hated Hardy now, just as heartily as did Tip McCay. And evenif he had not given his word to the dying cattleman, he would not haveleft a stone unturned to bring the rustling saloon keeper to justice. More than once before, Kid Wolf had used the law of the Colt when othermeasures failed to punish. And now, even although handicapped andoutnumbered, he planned to strike. The stolen herd represented a smallfortune, and rightfully belonged to Tip McCay and his mother. Butwhere were the longhorns now?

Tip's suggestion was helpful. He thought the cattle could not be morethan a few miles below. They quickly decided to ride south, and Tipand The Kid led the way. The moon was up now, and it lighted the openprairie with a soft glow. The five riders pounded down the oldChisholm cattle road at a furious clip, eyes open for signs. PresentlyTip cried:

"We'll find 'em down there at Green Springs! I see a light! It's acamp fire!"

On the horizon they made out the feathery tops of trees against thesky, and riding closer, they could see a dark mass bunched up aroundthem--little dots straying out at the edges. It was the stolen McCayherd!

No general on the field of battle planned more carefully than theTexan. The party came closer, warily and making no noise. As they didso, they could hear the bawling of the cattle. Some were milling andrestless, and the cattleman could see four men on horses at differentpoints, attempting to keep the animals quiet and soothed. At the campfire, several hundred yards from the springs, were four other men. Twoof these seemed to be asleep in their blankets; the other pair weretalking and smoking. 

"The odds, " drawled Kid Wolf in a low tone, "are eight to five in theahfavah. Tip, yo' take the man on the no'th. Scotty, yores is thehombre on the west, ridin' the pinto. Caldwell, take the south man, and yo', White, do yo' best with the gent ovah east. "

"How about those four by the fire?" whispered White. 

"I'm takin' them myself. " The Texan smiled. "We must all worktogethah. They won't know who we are at first, probably, and willthink we're moah of Hardy's men. Don't shoot unless yo' have to. "

One of the two bearded ruffians by the camp fire clutched hiscompanion's sleeve. Two other men lay snoring on the other side of thecrackling embers, and one of them stirred slightly. 

"Bill, " he muttered, "didn't yuh hear somethin'?"

"I hear a lot o' cows bawlin'. " The other grinned. "But what I wastryin' to say is this: If Jack Hardy splits reasonable with us, whywe----"

He was interrupted. Both men glanced up, to see a tall figuresauntering toward them into the ring of red firelight. Both stared, then reached for their guns. 

"Sorry, gents, " they were told in a soft and musical drawl, "but yo'rea little late. Will yo' kindly poke yo' hands into the atmospheah?"

The two outlaws experienced a sudden wilting of their gun arms. It wasquick death to attempt to draw while the round black eyes of thisstranger's twin Colts were on them. 

With a jerk, both threw up their hands. One gave a shout--a cry meantto warn his companions. 

A shot from the direction of the herd told them, however, that theother outlaws were already aware of something unusual. 

The two bandits in the blankets jumped up, rubbing their eyes inamazement. A kick from Kid Wolf's boot sent the . 45 of one of themflying. The other, prodded none too gently with a revolver barrel, decided to surrender without further ado. 

Lining them up, The Kid disarmed them. He was joined in a few minutesby Tip, White, Caldwell, and Scotty, who were driving two prisonersbefore them. 

"Bueno!" said The Kid. "I see yo' got the job done without muchtrouble. But wheah's the othah two?"

Scotty smiled grimly, spat in the direction of the fire and said simply:

"They showed fight. "

In five minutes, the six outlaws were tied securely with lariat rope, in spite of their fervent and profane protests. 

"Jack Hardy will get yuh fer this, blast yuh!" snarled one. 

"Maybe, " drawled The Kid sweetly, "he won't want us aftah he gets us. "

They planned to have the cattle moving northward by dawn. Once pastMidway, the trail to Dodge was clear. But there was plenty of work todo in the meantime. 

An hour after sunup, the herd of fifteen hundred steers was movingnorthward toward Midway. Kid Wolf and his four riders had them wellunder control, and had it not been for a certain alertness in theirbearing, one would have thought it an ordinary cattle drive. 

Kid Wolf was singing to the longhorns in a half-mocking, drawlingtenor, as he rode slowly along:

 "Oh, the desaht winds are blowin', on the Rio! And we'd like to be a-goin', back to Rio! But befo' we do, We've got to see this through, Like all good hombres do, from the Rio!"

The prisoners had been lashed securely to their horses and broughtalong. Already several miles had been traveled. And thus far theparty had seen no signs of Jack Hardy's rustler gang. They were not, however, deceived. With every passing minute they were approachingcloser to Midway, the Hardy stronghold. And not only that, but theoutlaws were probably combing the country for them. 

Reaching a place known as Stone Corral, they were especially vigilant. The place was a natural trap. It had been built of roughly piled stoneand never entirely finished. Indians sometimes camped within theinclosure. It was, however, empty of life, and the adventurers wereabout to push on with the herd when the keen, roving eyes of Kid Wolfspotted something suspicious on the north horizon. He held his handaloft, signaling a stop. 

"Heah they come, boys!" he cried. "We'll have to stand 'em off heah!"

They had been expecting it, and they were hardly surprised orunprepared. They were favored, too, in having such a place fordefense. Save for the low walls of the abandoned corral, there was nocover worth mentioning for miles. Among the cool-eyed five whoprepared to make their stand, there was not one who hadn't faced deathbefore and often. But never had the odds been more against them. Theyhad slipped through the toils before, but now they were tighteningagain. 

Watching the riders as they grew larger against the sky, they couldcount two dozen of them. There was no use to hide. They could notconceal the cattle herd, and the Hardy gang would surely investigate. Already they were veering in their course, riding directly toward thestone corral. 

"Aweel, " muttered Scotty, lapsing into his Scotch dialect for themoment, "there isn't mooch doot about how this thing will end. But I'ma-theenkin' we'll make it a wee bit hot for 'em before they get us!"

"Right yuh are, Scotty, " said Tip savagely. "I'm goin' to try and pickHardy out o' that gang o' killers, and if I do, I don't care much thenwhat happens. "

The prisoners had been herded within the corral, and their feet werelashed together. 

"Yuh'll soon be listenin' to bullets, " Caldwell told them. "Yuh'dbetter pray that yore pals shoot straight and don't hit you by mistake. "

The Hardy gang had seen them! They saw the riders check their horsesand then spread out in a cautious circle. 

"Hardy ain't with 'em, " sang out White, who had sharp eyes. 

"They seem to be all there but him!" snapped Tip in disappointment. "The coward's stayed behind!"

A bullet suddenly buzzed viciously over the corral and kicked up ashower of clods behind it. And as if this first shot were signal, ashattering volley rang out from the oncoming riders. Bits of stone andbursts of sand flew up from the low stone breastworks. 

"We got yuh this time!" one of the rustlers shouted. "We're givin' yuhone chance to come out o' there!"

"And we're givin' yuh all the chances yo' want, " replied Kid Wolf, "tocome and get us!"

For answer, the horsemen--two dozen strong--charged! In a breath, theyhad struck and had been driven back. So quickly had it happened thatnobody remembered afterward just how it had been done. The Texan's twoColts grew hot and cooled again. Three riderless horses galloped aboutthe corral in circles, and the thing was over!

It had been sheer nerve and courage against odds, however. Three ofthe attackers fell from their horses before the stone walls had beengained, and three others had met with swift trouble inside. The resthad retreated hastily, leaving six dead and wounded behind. OnlyCaldwell had been hit, and his wound was a slight one in the shoulder. The defenders cheered lustily. 

"Come on!" Tip shouted. "We're waitin'!"

Kid Wolf, however, was not deceived. The attacking party was made uplargely of half-breeds and Indians. The Texan knew their ways. Thatfirst charge had been only half-hearted. The next time, the outlawswould fight to a finish, angered as they were to a fever heat. Andalthough the defenders might account for a few more of the renegades, the end was inevitable. Kid Wolf did not lose his cool smile. He hadbeen in tight situations before, and had long ago resigned himself todying, when his time came, in action. 

"Here they come again!" barked Scotty grimly. But suddenly a burst ofrifle fire rang out in the distance--a sharp, crackling volley. Two ofthe outlaw gang dropped. One horse screamed and fell heavily with itsrider. 

The five defenders saw to their utter amazement that a large band ofhorsemen was riding in from the east at a hot gallop, guns spittingfire. As a rescue, it was timed perfectly. The rustlers had beenabout to charge the corral, and now they reined up in panic, undecidedwhat to do. Two others fell. And in the meantime, the newcomers, whoever they were, were circling so as to surround them on all sides. 

"It's the law!" Kid Wolf smiled. 

"The what?" Caldwell demanded. "Why, there ain't no law between herean'----"

But the Texan knew he was right. He had seen the sun glittering on thesilver badge that one of the strange riders wore. 

The rustlers themselves were outnumbered now. The posse included ascore of men, and they handled their guns in a determined way. Theoutlaws fired a wild shot or two, then signified their surrender bythrowing up their hands. While the sullen renegades were beingsearched and disarmed, the leader of the posse came over to where theTexan and the others were watching. 

"Who in blazes are you?" he shot out. 

"That's the question I was goin' to ask yo', sheriff, " returned The Kidpolitely. 

"Humph! How d'ye know I'm a sheriff?" grunted the leader. 

"Yo're wearin' yore stah in plain sight. "

"Oh!" The officer grinned. "Well, I'm Sheriff Dawson, o' LimpinBuffalo County. I've brought my posse over two hundred miles to get myhands on one o' the worst gangs o' rustlers in the Injun Nations. Idon't know who you are, but the fact that yuh were fightin' 'em isenough fer me. I know yo're all right. "

"Thanks, sheriff, " said the Texan. "I'm leavin' Mr. Tip McCay heah totell yo' ouah story, if yo'll excuse me fo' a while. "

"Where yuh goin', Kid?" demanded young McCay, astonished. 

"To Midway, " drawled the Texan, swinging himself into Blizzard'ssaddle. "Looks like a clean sweep has been made of the Hahdygang--except Hahdy himself. I reckon I'll ride in and get him, so's tomake the pahty complete. "

"Hardy!" the officer ejaculated. "I want that _malo hombre_--andmighty bad, dead or alive!"

"Let us go along!" burst out Tip. 

"No, " laughed the Texan quietly. "Yo' boys have had enough dangah andexcitement fo' one day, not includin' yestahday. I'd rathah settlethis little business with Jack Hahdy alone. Yo' drive the cattle onand meet me latah. "

And lifting his hand in farewell, The Kid touched his white chargerwith the spur. In a few minutes he was a tiny spot on the horizon, bound for the lair of Jack Hardy, the rustler king. 

There was one thing, however, that Kid Wolf was not aware of, and thatwas a pair of beady black eyes watching him from behind a prairie-doghill! One of the renegade half-breeds had managed to slip away fromthe posse unseen. It was Tucumcari Pete, and in a draw a few yardsaway was his pony. 

CHAPTER X

TUCUMCARI'S HAND

Jack Hardy was annoyed. He had planned carefully, expecting to have nodifficulty in wiping out the hated McCays and those who sympathizedwith them. 

His plans had only partially succeeded. The elder McCay was dead, butTip and some of the others had slipped through his clutches. To havethe McCay faction wiped out of Midway forever meant money and power tohim. And now his job was only half finished. 

"They'll get 'em, " he muttered to himself. 

He was alone in his place, the Idle Hour. He had sent every availableman, even his bartender, out on the chase. He wanted to finish, at allcosts, what he had begun. 

"It was all due to that blasted hombre from Texas!" he groaned. "Iwish I had him here, curse him! It would've all gone smooth enough ifhe hadn't meddled. Well, he'll pay! The boys will get him. And whenthey do----" Hardy thumped the bar with his fist in fury. 

He paced the floor angrily. The deserted building seemed to be gettingon his nerves, for he went behind the bar several times and, withshaking fingers, poured stiff drinks of red whisky. Then he walked toone of the deserted card tables and began to riffle the cards aimlessly. 

There were two reasons why the rustling saloon keeper had not joined inthe search for his victims. One was that he hated to leave unprotectedthe big safe in his office, which always contained a snug sum of money. The other was that Jack Hardy was none too brave when it came to gunfighting. He was still seated at the card table, laying out a game ofsolitaire, when the swinging doors of the saloon opened quietly. Thefirst inkling Hardy had of a stranger's presence, however, was the softdrawl of a familiar voice:

"Good mohnin', Mistah Hahdy! Enjoyin' a little game o' cahds?"

Hardy's body remained stiff and rigid for a breathless moment, frozenwith surprise. Then he turned his head, and his right hand movedsnakelike downward. Just a few inches it moved, then it stopped. Hardy had thought he had a chance, and then he suddenly decided that hehadn't. At his first glance, he had seen Kid Wolf's hands carelesslyat his sides; at his second, he saw them holding two . 45s!

Kid Wolf's smile was mocking as he sauntered into the room. His thumbswere caressing the gun hammers. 

"No, it wouldn't be best, " he drawled, "to monkey with that gun o'yo'n. They say, yo' know, that guns are dangerous because they go off. But the really dangerous guns are those that don't go off quick enough. "

The rustler leader rose to his feet on shaking legs. His face hadpaled to the color of paper, and beads of perspiration stood out on hispasty forehead. 

"Yuh--yuh got the drop, Mr. Wolf, " he pleaded. "Don't kill me!"

"Nevah mind, " the Texan said softly. "When yo' die, it'll be on arope. It's been waitin' fo' yo' a long time. But now I have somebusiness with yo'. First thing, yo'd bettah let me keep that gun o'yo'n. "

The Kid pulled Hardy's . 44 from its holster beneath the saloon man'sblack coat. 

"Next thing, " he drawled, "I want yo' to take that body down from infront o' yo' do'. "

Kid Wolf referred to the corpse of the unfortunate McCay spy whom Hardyhad hanged. It still hung outside the Idle Hour, blocking the door. 

The Texan made him get a box, stand on it and loosen the rope from thedead man's neck. Released from the noose, the body sagged to theground. 

"Just leave the noose theah, " ordered The Kid. "It may be that thesheriff will have some use fo' it. "

"The sheriff!" Hardy repeated blankly. 

"Yes, he'll be heah soon, " murmured Kid Wolf softly. "I have somebusiness with yo' first. Maybe we'd bettah go to yo' office. "

Jack Hardy's office was a little back room, divided off from the mainone of the Idle Hour. In spite of his protests, Hardy was compelled tounlock this apartment and enter with his captor. 

"Tip has recovahed his fathah's cattle, " The Kid told him pointedly, "but theah's the little mattah of the burned sto' to pay fo'. Inbehalf of Tip and his mothah, I'm demandin'--well, I think ten thousanddollahs in cash will just about covah it. "

"I haven't got ten thousand!" Hardy began to whine. 

But The Kid cut him off. "Open that safe, " he snapped, "and we'll see!"

Hardy took one look at his captor and decided to obey and to lose notime in doing so. The Texan's eyes were crackling gray-blue. 

A large sheaf of bills was in an inner drawer, along with a canvas bagof gold coins. Ordering Hardy to take a chair opposite, Kid Wolf beganto count the money carefully. To allow himself the free use of hishands, he holstered both his guns. 

"When this little mattah is settled, " the Texan drawled, "I have alittle personal business with yo', man to man. "

Jack Hardy moistened his lips feverishly. Although he was not nowcovered by The Kid's guns, he lacked the courage to begin a fight. Heknew how quick Kid Wolf could be, and he was a coward. 

The Texan was stacking the gold into neat piles. 

"Fo'teen thousand two hundred dollahs, " he announced finally. "The oddfo' thousand, two hundred will go to the families of the men yo'murdahed yestahday. And now, Mistah Jack Hahdy, my personal businesswith yo' will be----"

He did not finish. The door of the little office had suddenly opened, and Tucumcari Pete stood in the entrance! His evil face was gloating, his snaky eyes glittering with the prospect of quick revenge. In hisdirty hands was a rifle, and he was raising it to cover The Kid's heart!

Kid Wolf's hands were on the table. There was no time for him to drawhis Colts! It seemed that the half-breed had taken a hand in the gameand that he held the winning cards! In a second it would be over. Thehalf-breed's finger was reaching for the trigger; his mouth was twistedinto a gloating, vicious smile. 

But while The Kid was seated in such a position at the table that hecould not hope to reach his guns quickly enough, he had his holecard--the bowie knife in a sheath concealed inside his shirt collar. The Kid could draw and hurl, if necessary, that gleaming blade asrapidly as he could pull his 45s. His hand darted up and back. Something glittered in the air for just a breath, and there was asinging _twang_!

Tucumcari Pete gasped. His weird cry ended in a gurgle. He loweredhis rifle and teetered on his feet. The flying knife had found itsmark--the half-breed's throat! The keen-pointed blade had burieditself nearly to the guard! Clawing at the steel, Tucumcari staggered, then dropped to the floor with his clattering rifle. His body jerkedfor a moment, then stiffened. Justice had dealt with a murderer. 

"The thirteenth ace, " The Kid drawled softly, "is always in the deck!"

But Hardy had taken advantage of Tucumcari's interruption. Jumping upwith an oath, he hurled the table over upon The Kid and leaped for thedoor. The Texan scrambled from under the heavy table and darted afterhim. Hardy was running for his life. He raced into the main room ofthe Idle Hour with The Kid at his heels. 

Kid Wolf could have drawn his guns and shot him down. But it was tooeasy. Unless forced to do so, that was not the Texan's way. 

Snatching open a drawer in one of the gambling tables, Hardy seized alarge-bore derringer and whirled it up to shoot. But The Kid's steelfingers closed on his wrist. The ugly little pistol exploded into theceiling--once, and then the other barrel. 

"There'll be no guns used!" said The Kid, with a deadly smile. "I toldyo' we'd have this out man to man!"

Hardy's lips writhed back in a snarl of hatred. He sent a smashingright-hand jab at the Texan's heart. Kid Wolf blocked it, stepped toone side and lashed the rustler king under the eye. Hardy staggeredback against the table, clutching it for support. The Kid pressedcloser, and Hardy dodged around the table, placing it between him andhis enemy. The Texan hurled it to one side and smashed his way throughthe saloon owner's guard. 

Hardy, head down to escape The Kid's terrific blows, bucked ahead withall his power and weight advantage and seized him about the waist. Itwas apparent that he was trying to get his hands on one of the Texan'sguns. At close range, Kid Wolf smashed at him with both hands, hisfists smacking in sharp hooks that landed on both sides of Hardy's jaw. To save himself, Hardy staggered back, only to receive a mighty blow inthe face. 

"I'll kill yuh for that, blast yuh!" he cried with a snarl. 

Hardy was strong and heavy, but the punishment he was receiving wastelling on him. His breath was coming in jerky gasps. Seizing thehigh lookout stool from the faro layout, he advanced toward The Kid, his eyes glittering with fury. 

"I'll pound yore head to pieces!" he rasped. 

"Pound away, " Kid Wolf said. 

Hardy whirled it over his head. Kid Wolf, however, instead of jumpingbackward to avoid it, darted in like a wild cat. While the stool wasstill at the apex of its swing, he struck, with the strength of hisshoulder behind the blow. It landed full on the rustler's jaw, andHardy went crashing backward, heels over head, landing on the wreckageof the stool. For a moment he lay there, stunned. 

"Get up!" snapped The Kid crisply. "Theah's still mo' comin' to yo'. "

Staggering to his feet, Hardy made a run for the front door. Kid Wolf, however, met him. Putting all the power of his lean young musclesbehind his sledgelike fists, he hit Hardy twice. The first blowstopped Hardy, straightened him up with a jolt and placed him inposition for the second one--a right-hand uppercut. Smash! It landedsquarely on the point of Hardy's weak chin. The blow was enough tofell an ox, and the rustler chief went hurtling through the door, carried off his feet completely. 

What happened then was one of those ironies of fate. The rope on whichHardy had hanged the McCay spy, George Durham, still hung before thedoor, its noose swaying in the wind some five feet from the ground. Hardy hit it. His head struck the rope with terrific force--caught inthe loop for an instant. There was a sharp snap, and Hardy dropped tothe wooden sidewalk. For a few moments, his body twitchedspasmodically, then lay still and rigid. His neck had been broken bythe shock!

For a minute Kid Wolf stared in unbelief. Then he smiled grimly. 

"Guess I was right, " he murmured, "when I said it was on the books fo'Hahdy to die by the rope!"

Cattle were approaching Midway on the Chisholm Trail--hundreds of them, bawling, milling, and pounding dust clouds into the air with theirsharp hoofs. 

The Texan, watching the dark-red mass of them, smiled. McCay cattle, those! And there was a woman in Dodge City who was cared fornow--Tip's mother. 

"I guess we've got the job done, Blizzard. " He smiled at the big whitehorse that was standing at the hitch rack. "Heah comes the boys!"

It was a wondering group that gathered, a few minutes later, in theill-fated Idle Hour. They listened in amazement to Kid Wolf's recitalof what had taken place since he left them. 

"And so Hardy hanged himself!" the sheriff from Limping Buffaloejaculated, when he could find his voice. "Well, I must say that savesme the trouble o' doin' it! But there's some reward comin' to yuh, Mr. Wolf. "

The Texan smiled. "Divide it between Scotty, Caldwell, and White, " hedrawled. "And, Tip, heah's the ten thousand Mistah Hahdy donated. Present it to yo' good mothah, son, with mah compliments. "

Tip could not speak for a minute, and when he did try to talk, hisvoice was choked with emotion. 

"I can't begin to thank yuh, " he said. 

Kid Wolf shook his head. "Please don't thank me, Tip. Yo' see, Ialways try to make the troubles of the undah dawg, mah troubles. Solong as theah are unfohtunates and downtrodden folks in this world, I'll have mah work cut out. I am, yo' might say, a soldier ofmisfohtune. "

"But yo're not goin'?" Tip cried, seeing the Texan swing himself intohis saddle. 

"I'm just a rollin' stone--usually a-rollin' toward trouble, " said theTexan. "Some time, perhaps, we'll meet again. Adios!"

Kid Wolf swung his hat aloft, and he and his white horse soon blurredinto a moving dot on the far sweeps of the Chisholm Trail. 

CHAPTER XI

A BUCKSHOT GREETING

 "Oh, the cows stampede on the Rio Grande! The Rio! The sands do blow, and the winds do wail, But I want to be wheah the cactus stands! And the rattlah shakes his ornery tail!"

Kid Wolf sang his favorite verse to his favorite tune, and was happy. For he was on his beloved Rio. 

He had left the Chisholm Trail behind him, and now "The Rollin' Stone"was rolling homeward, and--toward trouble. 

The Kid, mildly curious, had been watching a certain dust cloud forhalf an hour. At first he had thought it only a whirling dervish--oneof those restless columns of sand that continually shift over the aridlands. But it was following the course of the trail below him on thedesert--rounding each bend and twist of it. 

The Texan, astride his big white horse, had been "hitting the highplaces only, " riding directly south at an easy clip, but scorning thetrail whenever a short cut presented itself. 

Descending from the higher ground of the mesa now, by means of anarroyo leading steeply down upon the plain, he saw what was kicking upthe dust. It was a buckboard, drawn by a two-horse team, and travelingdirectly toward him at a hot clip. There was one person, as far as hecould see, in the wagon. And across this person's knees was a shotgun. The Kid saw that unless he changed his course he would meet thebuckboard and its passenger face to face. 

Kid Wolf had no intention of avoiding the meeting, but something in thetenseness of the figure on the seat of the vehicle, even at thatdistance, caused his gray-blue eyes to pucker. 

The distance between him and the buckboard rapidly decreased as KidWolf's white horse drummed down between the chocolate-colored walls ofthe arroyo. Between him and the team on the trail now was only astretch of level white sand, dotted here and there with low burrowweeds. Suddenly, the driver of the buckboard whirled the shotgun. Thedouble barrels swung up on a line with Kid Wolf. 

Quick as the movement was, the Texan had learned to expect theunexpected. In the West, things happened, and one sought the reasonfor them afterward. His hands went lightning-fast toward the twin . 45sthat hung at his hips. 

But Kid Wolf did not draw. A look of amazement had crossed hissun-burned face and he removed his hands from his gun butts. Insteadof firing on the figure in the buckboard, Kid Wolf wheeled his horseabout quickly, and turned sidewise in his saddle in order to make assmall a target as possible. 

The shotgun roared. Spurts of sand were flecked up all around The Kidand the big white horse winced and jumped as a ball smashed thesaddletree a glancing blow. Another slug went through the Texan's hatbrim. Fortunately, he was not yet within effective range. 

Even now, Kid Wolf did not draw his weapons. And he did not beat aretreat. Instead, he rode directly toward the buckboard. The click ofa gun hammer did not stop him. One barrel of the shotgun remainedunfired and its muzzle had him covered. 

But the Texan approached recklessly. He had doffed his big hat and nowhe made a courteous, sweeping bow. He pulled his horse to a halt notten yards from the menacing shotgun. 

"Pahdon me, ma'am, " he drawled, "but is theah anything I can do fo'yo', aside from bein' a tahget in yo' gun practice?"

The figure in the buckboard was that of a woman! There was a moment'sbreathless pause. 

"There's nine buckshot in the other barrel, " said a feminine voice--avoice that for all its courage faltered a little. 

"Please don't waste them on me, " Kid Wolf returned, in his soft, Southern speech. "I'm afraid yo' have made a mistake. I can see thatyo' are in trouble. May I help yo'?"

Doubtfully, the woman lowered her weapon. She was middle-aged, kindlyfaced, and her eyes were swollen from weeping. She looked out of placewith the shotgun--friendless and very much alone. 

"I don't know whether to trust you or not, " she said wearily. "Isuppose I ought to shoot you, but I can't, somehow. "

"Well I'm glad yo' can't, " drawled The Kid with contagious good humor. His face sobered. "Who do yo' think I am, ma'am?"

"I don't know, " the woman sighed, "but you're an enemy. Every one inthis cruel land is my enemy. You're an outlaw--and probably one of themurderers who killed my husband. "

"Please believe that I'm not, " the Texan told her earnestly. "I'm astrangah to this district. Won't yo' tell me yo' story? I want tohelp yo'. "

"There isn't much to tell, " the driver of the buckboard said in aquavering voice. "I'm on the way to town to sell the ranch--the S Bar. I have my husband's body with me on the wagon. He was murderedyesterday. "

Not until then did Kid Wolf see the grim cargo of the buckboard. Hisface sobered and his eyes narrowed. 

"Do yo' want to sell, ma'am?"

"No, but it's all I can do now, " she said tearfully. "Major Stover, inSan Felipe, offered me ten thousand for it, some time ago. It's worthmore, but I guess this--this is the end. I don't know why I'm tellin'you all this, young man. "

"This Majah Stovah--is he an army officer?" The Kid asked wonderingly. 

The woman shook her head. "No. He isn't really a major. He never wasin the army, so far as any one knows. He just fancies the title andcalls himself 'Major Stover'--though he has no right to do so. "

"A kind of four-flushin' hombre--a coyote in sheep's clothin', I shouldjudge, " drawled Kid Wolf. 

"Thet just about describes him, " the woman agreed. 

"But yo' sho'ly aren't alone on yo' ranch. Wheah's yo' men?" asked TheKid. 

"They quit last week. "

"Quit?" The Kid's eyebrows went up a trifle. 

"All of them--five in all, includin' the foreman. And soon afterward, all our cattle were chased off the ranch. Gone completely--six hundredhead. Then yesterday"--she paused and her eyes filled withtears--"yesterday my husband was shot while he was standing at the edgeof the corral. I don't know who did it. "

No wonder this woman felt that every hand was turned against her. KidWolf's eyes blazed. 

"Won't the law help yo'?" he demanded. 

"There isn't any law, " said the woman bitterly. "Now you understandwhy I fired at you. I was desperate--nearly frantic with grief. Ihardly knew what I was doing. "

"Well, just go back home to yo' ranch, ma'am. I don't think yo' needto sell it. "

"But I can't run the S Bar alone!"

"Yo' won't have to. I'll bring yo' ridahs back. Will I find them inSan Felipe?"

"I think so, " said the woman, astonished. "But they won't come. "

"Oh, yes, they will, " said The Kid politely. 

"But I can't ranch without cattle. "

"I'll get them back fo' yo'. "

"But they're over the line into Old Mexico by now!"

"Nevah yo' mind, ma'am. I'll soon have yo' place on a workin' basisagain. Just give me the names of yo' ridahs and I'll do the rest. "

"Well, there's Ed Mullhall, Dick Anton, Fred Wise, Frank Lathum, andthe foreman--Steve Stacy. But, tell me, who are you--to do this for astranger, a woman you've never seen before? I'm Mrs. Thomas. "

The Texan bowed courteously. 

"They call me Kid Wolf, ma'am, " he replied. "Mah business is rightin'the wrongs of the weak and oppressed, when it's in mah power. Thosewho do the oppressin' usually learn to call me by mah last name. Nowdon't worry any mo', but just leave yo' troubles to me. "

Mrs. Thomas smiled, too. She dried her eyes and looked at the Texangratefully. 

"I've known you ten minutes, " she said, "and somehow it seems tenyears. I do trust you. But please don't get yourself in trouble onaccount of Ma Thomas. You don't know those men. This is a hardcountry--terribly hard. "

Kid Wolf, however, only smiled at her warning. He remained just longenough to obtain two additional bits of information--the location ofthe S Bar and the distance to the town of San Felipe. Then he turnedhis horse's head about, and with a cheerful wave of his hand, struckout for the latter place. The last he saw of Mrs. Thomas, she wasturning her team. 

Kid Wolf realized that he had quite a problem on his hands. The workahead of him promised to be difficult, but, as usual, he had gone intoit impulsively--and yet coolly. 

"We've got a big ordah to fill, Blizzahd, " he murmured, as his whitehorse swung into a long lope. "I hope we haven't promised too much. "

He wondered if in his endeavor to cheer up the despondent woman he hadaroused hopes that might not materialize. The plight of Mrs. Thomashad stirred him deeply. His pulses had raced with anger at herpersecutors--whoever they were. His Southern chivalry, backed up byhis own code--the code of the West--prompted him to promise what he had. 

"A gentleman, Blizzahd, " he mused, "couldn't do othahwise. We've gotto see this thing through!"

Ma Thomas--he had seen at a glance--was a plains-woman. Courage andcharacter were in her kindly face. The Texan's heart had gone out toher in her trouble and need. 

Once again he found himself in his native territory, but in a countrygone strange to him. Ranchers and ranches had come in overnight, itseemed to him. A year or two can make a big difference in the West. Two years ago, Indians--to-day, cattle! Twenty miles below rolled themuddy Rio. It was Texas--stern, vast, mighty. 

And, if what Mrs. Thomas had said was correct, law hadn't kept pacewith the country's growth. There was no law. Kid Wolf knew what thatmeant. His face was very grim as he left the wagon trail behind. 

The town of San Felipe--two dozen brown adobes, through which asolitary street threaded its way--sprawled in the bottom of a canyonnear the Rio Grand. The cow camp had grown, in a few brief months, with all the rapidity of an agave plant, which adds five inches to itssize in twenty-four hours. San Felipe was noisy and wide awake. 

It was December. The sun, however, was warm overhead. The sky wascloudless and the distant range of low mountains stood out sharp andclear against the sky. As Kid Wolf rode into the town, a hard wind wasblowing across the sands and it was high noon. 

San Felipe's single street presented an interesting appearance. Mostof the long, flat adobes were saloons--The Kid did not need to read thesigns above them to see that. The loungers and hangers-on about theirdoors told the story. Sandwiched between two of the biggest bars, however, was a small shack--the only frame building in the place. 

"Well, this Majah Stover hombre must be in the business, " muttered TheKid to himself. 

His eyes had fallen on the sign over the door:

 MAJOR STOVER LAND OFFICE

Kid Wolf was curious. Strange to say, he had been thinking of themajor before he had observed the sign, and wondering about the man'soffer to buy the S Bar Ranch. The Texan whistled softly as hedismounted. He left Blizzard waiting at the hitch rack, and saunteredto the office door. 

He opened the door, let himself in, and found himself in a dusty, paper-littered room. A few maps hung on the walls. Kid Wolf's firstimpression was the disagreeable smell of cigar stumps. 

His eyes fell upon the man at the desk by the dirty window, and heexperienced a sudden start--an uncomfortable feeling. The Texan didnot often dislike a man at first sight, but he was a keen reader ofcharacter. 

"Do yuh have business with me?" demanded the man at the desk. 

Major Stover, if this were he, was a paunchy, disgustingly fat man. His face was moonlike, sensually thick of lip. His eyes, as they fellupon his visitor, were hoglike, nearly buried in sallow folds of skin. 

The thick brows above them had grown close together. 

"Well, " The Kid drawled, "I don't exactly know. Yo' deal in lands, Ibelieve?"

"I have some holdings, " said the fat man complacently. "Are yo'interested in the San Felipe district?"

"Very much, " said The Kid, nodding. "I am quite attracted byRattlesnake County, and----"

"This isn't Rattlesnake County, young man, " corrected the land agent. "This is San Felipe County. "

"Oh, excuse me, " murmured the Texan, "maybe I got that idea because ofthe lahge numbah of snakes----"

"There's no more snakes here than----" the other began. 

"I meant the human kind, " explained Kid Wolf mildly. 

Major Stover's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What do yuh want with me?"he demanded. 

"Did yo' offah ten thousand dollahs fo' the S Bar Ranch?"

"That is none of yore business!"

"No?" drawled Kid Wolf patiently. "Yo' might say that I am heah asMrs. Thomas' agent. "

The major looked startled. "Where's yore credentials?" he snapped, after a brief pause. 

Kid Wolf merely smiled and tapped the butts of his six-guns. "Heah, sah, " he murmured. "I'm askin' yo'. "

Major Stover looked angry. "Yes, " he said sharply, "I did at one timemake such an offer. However, I have reconsidered. My price is nowthree thousand dollars. "

"May I ask, " spoke The Kid softly, "why yo' have reduced yo' offah?"

"Because, " said the land dealer, "she has to sell now! I've got herwhere I want her, and if yo're her agent, yuh can tell her that!"

One stride, and Kid Wolf had fat Major Stover by the neck. For all hisweight, and in spite of his bulk, The Kid handled him as if he had beena child. An upward jerk dragged him from his chair. The Texan heldhim by one muscular hand. 

"So yo' have her where yo' want her, have yo'?" he cried, giving themajor a powerful shake. 

He passed his other hand over the land agent's flabby body, poking thefolds of fat here and there over Major Stover's ribs. At each thumpthe major flinched. 

"Why, yo're as soft as an ovahripe pumpkin, " Kid Wolf drawled, deliberately insulting. "And yo' dare to tell me that! No, don't trythat!"

Major Stover had attempted to draw an ugly-looking derringer. The Kidcalmly took it away from him and threw it across the room. He shookthe land agent until his teeth rattled like dice in a box. 

"Mrs. Thomas' ranch, sah, " he said crisply, "is not in the mahket!"

With that he hurled the major back into his chair. There was acrashing, rending sound as Stover's huge body struck it. The woodcollapsed and the dazed land agent found himself sitting on the floor. 

"I'll get yuh for this, blast yuh!" gasped the major, his bloated facered with rage. "Yo're goin' to get yores, d'ye hear! I've got powerhere, and yore life ain't worth a cent!"

"It's not in the mahket, eithah, " the Texan drawled, as he strolledtoward the door. At the threshold he paused. 

"Yo've had yo' say, majah, " he snapped, "and now I'll have mine. If Ifind that yo' are in any way responsible fo' the tragedies that haveovahtaken Mrs. Thomas, yo'd bettah see to yo' guns. Until then--adios!"

CHAPTER XII

THE S BAR SPREAD

The bartender of the La Plata Saloon put a bottle on the bar in frontof the stranger, placing, with an added flourish, a thick-bottomedwhisky glass beside it. This done, he examined the newcomer with anattentive eye, pretending to polish the bar while doing so. 

The man he observed was enough to attract any one's notice, even in thecosmopolitan cow town of San Felipe. Kid Wolf was worth a secondglance always. The bartender saw a lean-waisted, broad-shoulderedyoung man whose face was tanned so dark as to belie his rather longlight hair. He wore a beautiful shirt of fringed buckskin, and hisboots were embellished with the Lone Star of Texas, done in silver. Two single-action Colts of the old pattern swung low from his beadedbelt. 

"Excuse me, sir, " said the bartender, "but yore drink?"

"Oh, yes, " murmured The Kid, and placed a double eagle on the bar. 

"No, yuh've already paid fer it. " The bartender nodded at the whiskyglass, still level full of the amber liquor. "I was just wonderin' whyyuh didn't down it. "

"Oh, yes, " said Kid Wolf again. He picked up the glass between thumband forefinger and deliberately emptied it into a handy cuspidor. "Ileave that stuff to mah enemies, " he said, smiling. "By the way, canyo' tell me where I can find a Mistah Mullhall, a Mistah Anton, aMistah Lathum, a Mistah Wise, and a Mistah Steve Stacy?"

When the bartender could recover himself, he pointed out a table nearthe door. 

"Wise an' Lathum an' Anton is right there--playin' monte, " he said. "Stacy an' Mullhall was here this mornin', but I don't see 'em now. "

Thanking him, Kid Wolf sauntered away from the bar and approached thegambling table. 

The La Plata Saloon was fairly well patronized, even though it lackedseveral hours until nightfall. Kid Wolf had taken the measure of theloiterers at a glance. Most of them were desperadoes. "Outlaw" waswritten over their hard faces, and he wondered if Ma Thomas hadn't beenright about the county's general lawlessness. San Felipe seemed to bewell supplied with gunmen. 

The three men at the table, although they were "heeled" with . 45s, wereof a different type. They were cowmen first, gunmen afterward. Twowere in their twenties; the other was older. 

"I beg yo' pahdon, caballeros, " said The Kid softly, as he came upbehind them, "but I wish to talk with yo' in private. Wheah can we go?"

There was something in the Texan's voice and bearing that preventedquestions just then. The trio faced about in surprise. Plainly, theydid not know whether to take Kid Wolf for a friend or for a foe. Liketrue Westerners, they were not averse to finding out. 

"We can use the back room, " said one. "Come on, you fellas. "

One of them delayed to make a final bet in the came, then he followed. At a signal to the bartender, the back room, vacant, save for a dozenbottles, likewise empty, was thrown open to them. 

"Have chairs, gentlemen, " The Kid invited, as he carefully closed thedoor. 

The trio took chairs about the table, looking questioningly at thestranger. The oldest of them picked up a deck of cards and began toshuffle them absently. Kid Wolf quietly took his place among the trio. 

"Boys, " he asked slowly, "do yuh want jobs?"

There was a pause, during which the three punchers exchanged glances. 

"Lay yore cards face up, stranger, " invited one of them. "We'lllisten, anyway, but----"

"I want yo' to go to work fo' the S Bar, " said The Kid crisply. 

"That settles that, " growled the oldest puncher, after sending asearching glance at the Texan's face. The others looked amazed. "No. We've quit the S Bar. "

"Who suggested that yo' quit?" The Kid shot at them. 

The man at the Texan's right flushed angrily. "I don't see that thisis any of yore business, stranger, " he barked. 

"Men, " said The Kid, and his voice was as chill as steel, "I'm makin'this my business! Yo're comin' back to work fo' the S Bar!"

"And yo're backin' thet statement up--how?" demanded the oldest cowhand, suddenly ceasing to toy with the card deck. 

"With these, " returned Kid Wolf mildly. 

The trio stared. The Kid had drawn his twin . 45s and laid them on thetable so quickly and so quietly that none of them had seen his armsmove. 

"Now, I hope, " murmured The Kid, "that yo' rather listen to me talkthan to those. I've only a few words to say. Boys, I was surprised. I didn't think yo' would be the kind to leave a po' woman like Mrs. Thomas in the lurch. Men who would do that, would do anything--wouldeven run cattle into Mexico, " he added significantly. 

All three men flushed to the roots of their hair. 

"Don't think we had anything to do with thet!" exclaimed one. 

"We got a right to quit if we want to, " put in the oldest with adefiant look. 

"Boys, play square with me and yo' won't be sorry, " Kid Wolf told themearnestly. "I know that all these things happened after yo' left. Since then, cattle have been rustled and Mr. Thomas has beenmurdahed--yo' know that as well as I do. That woman might be yo'mothah. She needs yo'. What's yo' verdict?"

There was a long silence. The three riders looked like small boyswhose hands had been caught in the cooky jar. 

"How much did Majah Stovah pay yo' to quit?" added the Texan suddenly. 

The former S Bar men jumped nervously. The man at The Kid's leftgulped. 

"Well, " he blurted, "we was only gettin' forty-five, and when Stoveroffered to double it, and with nothin' to do but lie around, why, we----"

"Things are changed now, " said The Kid gently. "Ma Thomas is alonenow. "

"That's right, " said the oldest awkwardly. "I suppose we ought to----"

"Ought to!" repeated one of the others, jumping to his feet. "ByGeorge, we will! I ain't the kind to go back on a woman like Mrs. Thomas. I don't care what yuh others do!"

"That's what I say, " chorused his two companions in the same breath. 

"I'll show yo' I aim to play fair, " Kid Wolf approved. He took ahandful of gold pieces from his pocket and placed them on the table ina little pile. "This is all I have, but Mrs. Thomas isn't in aposition to pay right now, so heah is yo' first month's wages inadvance. "

The three looked at him and gulped. If ever three men were ashamed, they appeared to be. The old cow-puncher pushed the pile back to TheKid. 

"We ain't takin' it, " he mumbled. "Don't get us wrong, partner. Weain't thet kind. We never would've quit the S Bar if it hadn't beenfor Steve Stacy--the foreman. And, of course, things was goin' allright at the ranch then. Guess it's all our fault, and we're willin'to right it. We don't know yuh, but yo're O. K. , son. "

They shook hands warmly. The Kid learned that the oldest of the threewas Anton. Wise was the bow-legged one, and Lathum was freckled andtall. 

"Stacy hadn't better know about this, " Lathum decided. 

"I was hopin' to get him back, " said The Kid. 

"No chance. He's in with the major now, " spoke up Wise. "So'sMullhall. Neither of 'em will listen--and they'll make trouble whenthey find we're goin' back. "

"If yo'-all feel the same way as I do, " Kid Wolf drawled as they filedout of the back room, "they won't have to make trouble. It'll be theahfo' 'em. "

As they approached the bar, Anton clutched The Kid's elbow. 

"There's Steve Stacy and Mullhall now, " he warned in a low voice. 

Stacy and Mullhall were big men, heavily built. Upon seeing the partyemerge from the back room, they pushed away from the bar and camedirectly toward Kid Wolf, who was walking in the lead. 

"Steve Stacy's the hombre in front, " Wise whispered. "Be on yoreguard. "

The Kid knew the ex-foreman's type even before he spoke. He was theloud-mouthed and overbearing kind of waddy--a gunman first and a cowmanafterward. His beefy face was flushed as red as his flannel shirt. His eyes were fixed boldly on the Texan. 

"The barkeeper tells me yuh were inquirin' fer me, " he said heavily. "What's on yore mind?"

Mullhall was directly behind him, insolent of face and bearing. Thetwo seemed to be paying no attention to the trio of men behind The Kid. 

"I was just goin' to offah yo' a chance to come back to the S Bar, "explained Kid Wolf. "These three caballeros have already signed thepay roll again. "

It was putting up the issue squarely, with no hedging. Both Stacy andMullhall darkened with fury. 

"What's yore little game? I guess it's about time to put an extraspoke in yore wheel!" snarled Mullhall, coming forward. 

"Who in blazes are you?" sneered Stacy. 

"Just call me The Wolf!" The Kid barked. "I'm managin' the S Bar rightnow, and if yo' men don't want to be friends, I'll be right glad tohave yo' fo' enemies!"

Mullhall had pressed very close. It was as if the whole thing had beenprearranged. His hands suddenly shot out and seized Kid Wolf'sarms--pinning them tightly. 

It was an old and deadly trick. While Mullhall pinioned the Texan, Steve Stacy planned to draw and shoot him down. The pair had workedtogether like the cogwheels of a machine, and all was perfectly timed. Stacy drew like a flash, cocking his . 45 as it left the holster. 

The play, however, was not worked fast enough. Kid Wolf was not to bevictimized by such a threadbare ruse. He was too fast, too strong. Hewhirled Mullhall about, his left boot went behind Mullhall's legs. With all his force he threw his weight against him, tearing his armsfree. 

Mullhall went backward like a catapult, directly at Stacy. The gunexploded in the air, and as the slug buzzed into the roof, bothMullhall and the exforeman went down like bags of meal--a tangled mazeof legs and arms. 

"Get up, " The Kid drawled. "And get out!"

Kid Wolf had not bothered to draw his guns, but Anton, Wise, and Lathumhad reached for theirs, and they had the angry pair covered. Stacychanged his mind about whirling his gun on his forefinger as herecovered it, and sullenly shoved it into its holster. 

"We'll get yuh!" snarled Stacy, his furious eyes boring into The Kid'scool gray ones. "San Felipe is too small to hold both of us!"

"_Bueno, _" said The Kid calmly. "I wish yo' luck--yo'll need it. Butin the meantime--vamose pronto!"

Swearing angrily, the two men obeyed. It seemed the healthiest thingto do just then. They slunk out like whipped curs, but The Kid knewtheir breed. 

He would see them again. 

 "Oh, the wintah's sun is shinin' on the Rio, I'm ridin' in mah homeland and I find it mighty nice; Life is big and fine and splendid on the Rio, With just enough o' trouble fo' the spice!"

If Kid Wolf's improvised song was wanting from a poetical standpoint, the swinging, lilting manner in which he crooned it made up for itsdefects. His tenor rose to the canyon walls, rich and musical. 

"Our cake's plumb liable to be overspiced with trouble, " Frank Lathumsaid with a laugh. 

Kid Wolf, with his three newly hired riders, were well on their way tothe S Bar. His companions knew of a short route that would take themdirectly to the Thomas hacienda, and they were following a steep-walledcanyon out of the mesa lands to the westward. 

"Look!" cried Wise. "Somebody's coming after us!"

They turned and saw a lone horseman riding toward them from thedirection of San Felipe. The rider was astride a fast-pacing Indianpony and overhauling them rapidly. Since leaving the town, Kid Wolf'sparty had been in no hurry, and this had enabled the rider to overtakethem. 

"It's Goliday, " muttered Anton, shading his weather-beaten eyes with abrown hand. 

"Just who is he?" The Kid drawled. 

"I think he's really the hombre behind Major Stover, " Wise spoke up. "He owns the ranch to the north o' the S Bar, and from what I hear, Stover has been tryin' to buy it fer him. "

"Oh, " The Kid murmured, "let's wait fo' him then, and heah what he hasto say. "

Accordingly, the four men drew up to a halt and wheeled about to facethe oncoming ranchman. They could see him raising his hand in a signalfor them to halt. He came up in a cloud of dust, checked his pony, andsurveyed the little party. His eyes at once sought out Kid Wolf. 

Goliday was a man of forty, black-haired and sallow of face. He wore ablack coat and vest over a light-gray shirt. Beneath the former peepedthe ivory handle of a . 45. 

"Hello, " panted the newcomer. "Are you the hombre that caused all thestir back in San Felipe?"

"What can I do fo' yo'?" asked the Texan briefly. 

"Well, " said Goliday, "let's be friends. I'll be quite frank. I wantthe S Bar. Is it true yo're goin' there to run the place for the oldwoman?"

"It is, " The Kid told him. 

"I'll pay yuh well to let the place alone, " offered Goliday after apause. "I'll give five thousand cash for the ranch, and if the dealgoes through, why I'm willin' to ante up another thousand to splitbetween you four. 

"I'm a generous man, and it'll pay to have me for a friend. Savvy? Asan enemy I won't be so good. Now, Mr. Wolf, if that's yore name, justadvise Mrs. Thomas to sell right away. Is it a bargain?"

"It's mo' than that, " murmured The Kid softly. "It's an insult. "

Goliday did not seem to hear this remark. He reached into his vest anddrew out something that glittered in the sun. 

"Here's a hundred and twenty to bind the bargain--six double eagles. And there's more where these came from. Will yuh take 'em?"

"I'll take 'em, " drawled Kid Wolf. He reached out for the gold, andthey clinked into his palm. 

"I'll take 'em, " he repeated, "and beah's what I'll do with 'em!"

With a sweeping movement, he tossed them high into the air. The sunglittered on them as they went up. Then, with his other hand, The Kiddrew one of his guns. 

Before the handful of coins began to drop, The Kid was firing at them. He didn't waste a bullet. With each quick explosion a piece of goldflew off on a tangent. _Br-r-rang, cling! Br-r-rang, ting!_ Therewere six coins, and The Kid fired six times. He never missed one! Hepicked the last one out of the air, three feet from the ground. 

Goliday watched this exhibition of uncanny target practice with bulgingeyes. As the echoes of the last shot died away, he turned on The Kidwith a bellow of wrath. 

"No, yo' don't!" Kid Wolf sang out. 

Goliday took his hand away from the butt of his ivory-handled gun. TheTexan had pulled his other revolver with the bewildering speed of amagician. Goliday was covered, "plumb center. "

"That's our answah, sah!" The Kid snapped. 

Goliday's sallow face was red with rage. 

"I have power here!" he rasped. "And yuh'll hear from me! There'sonly one law in this country, and that's six-gun law--yuh'll feel itwithin forty-eight hours!"

"Is that so?" said The Kid contemptuously. "I have a couple of lawyahsheah that can talk as fast as any in San Felipe County. The S Baraccepts yo' challenge. Come on, boys. Let's don't waste any mo' timewith this. "

Grinning, the quartet struck out again westward, leaving thedisgruntled ranchman behind. The last they saw of him, he was kickingabout in the mesquite, looking for his gold. 

CHAPTER XIII

DESPERATE MEASURES

Nightfall found the quartet established in the S Bar bunk house. Thejoyful thanks of Ma Thomas was enough reward for any of them. Shehadn't expected to see Kid Wolf again, she said, and to have him returnwith help was a wonderful surprise. 

She was a woman transformed and had taken new heart and courage. Thesupper she prepared for them, according to Kid Wolf, was the best hehad eaten since he had left Texas. 

All four of them were exceedingly hungry, and they made short work ofMa Thomas' enchiladas, crisp chicken _tacos_, peppers stuffed, and hermarvelous _menudo_--a Mexican soup. 

"With such eats as this, " sighed The Kid, "I know the S Bar is saved. "

They were gathered now in the long, whitewashed adobe bunk house, andhad finished their sad task of burying Thomas, victim of an assassin'sbullet. 

The Kid obtained the bullet that had taken the old rancher's life. Itwas a . 45 slug, and while the others believed it useless as evidence, The Kid carefully put it away in his pocket. 

"It's hard to say who done it, " Fred Wise said doubtfully. 

"Yes, " The Kid agreed. "I believe Ma Thomas was right when she saidthe hand of every one in San Felipe seemed to be raised against her. How much do yo' suppose the S Bar is wo'th, Anton?"

"Well, with five good springs--two rock tanks and three gravel ones, she's a first-class layout. The pick of the country. I'd say twentythousand. "

"The robbers!" muttered Kid Wolf. 

"What's on the program?" asked Frank Lathum. "We can't do muchranchin' without cattle. "

"No, " admitted The Kid. "We must get those cattle back. "

"But who ever heard o' gettin' cattle out o' Old Mexico after they'veonce been driven in?" Anton growled. "It can't be done!"

"Money in cattle can't be hid like money in jewels or cash, " said TheKid. "Theah not so easy to get rid of, even in Mexico. The town ofMariposa lies just over the bordah, am I right? And the only goodcattle lands for a hundred miles are just south of theah, isn't thatso?"

"Yes, but----"

"Men, this is a time fo' desperate measures. We must stake all on oneturn of the cards. Boldness might win. I want yo' hombres to be inMariposa the day _pasado_ mañana. "

"The day after to-morrow!" Wise repeated. "What's yore plan, Kid?"

"I don't know exactly, " Kid Wolf admitted. "I make mah plans as I goalong. But I'm ridin' into Mexico to-morrow to see what I can see. I'll try to have the six hundred head of S Bar cattle in Mariposa thenext day, some way or anothah. "

Bold was the word! The quartet talked until a late hour. The threeriders had caught some of The Kid's own enthusiasm and courage. 

"Ma Thomas sure needs us now, " said Anton. 

"Hasn't she any relatives?" Kid Wolf asked. 

"A son, " muttered Wise in a tone of disgust. "Small good he is. "

"Where is he?"

"Nobody knows, " growled Lathum. "Somewhere in Mexico, I guess. He waspractically run out o' San Felipe. He's no _bueno_. "

Kid Wolf learned that the son--Harry Thomas--had nearly broken hisparents' hearts. He had become wild years before, and was now nothingmore or less than a gambler, suspected of being a cheat and a"short-card operator. "

"He was a tinhorn, all right, " said Wise, "and fer the life of me Idon't know how a woman like Ma Thomas could have such a worthless rakefer a son. He was a queer-lookin' hombre--one brown eye and one blackeye. "

"Ma loves him, though. Yuh can tell thet, " put in Lathum. 

"Oh, yes, " pointed out Anton soberly. "Mothers always do. Greatthings, these mothers. "

He blew his nose violently on his red bandanna, and shortly afterwardwent to bed. Soon all four were in the bunks, resting for the hardwork that awaited them on the morrow--mañana--and many days aftermañana. 

Kid Wolf was up very early the next morning, and saddled Blizzard aftera hasty breakfast. He had much to do. 

The three S Bar men went part way with him--to a point beyond the southcorral. It was here that Mrs. Thomas had found the body of hermurdered husband. There seemed to be no clew as to who had performedthe deliberate killing. Before The Kid left, however, he did a littlescouting around. In the sand behind a mesquite, fifty yards from thespot where the body had been found, he discovered significant marks. 

"Come ovah heah, yo' men, " he sang out. 

Distinct in the sand were the prints made by a pair of low-heeled, square-toed boots. 

"Well, " Anton grunted. 

"Know those mahks?"

All shook their heads. They had certainly been made by an unusual pairof boots. In a country where high-heeled riding footgear was thething, such boots as these were seldom seen. All three admitted thatthey had seen such boots somewhere, but, although they racked theirbrains, they were unable to say just who had worn them. 

"Well, take a good look at them, " drawled The Kid. "I want yo' to bewitnesses to the find. Some day this info'mation might be of use. Inthe meantime, adios, boys!"

"Good luck!" they shouted after him. "We'll be on hand at Mariposamañana morning. "

Kid Wolf hit the trail for Mexico at a hammer-and-tongs gallop. 

The Mexican town of Mariposa was scattered over ten blazing acres ofsand just south of the Rio Grande. It was an older city than SanFelipe, and its buildings were more elaborate. 

One in particular, just off the Plaza, attracted the eye of Spanishranchman and peon alike. It was the meeting place of the thirsty--thefamed El Chihuahense, a saloon and gambling house known from El Paso toCalifornia. 

Built of brown adobe originally, it had been painted a bright red. Thecarved stone with which it was trimmed shone in white contrast to thevivid walls. An archway was the entrance to the establishment and manya bullet hole within its shadow testified to the dark deeds that hadhappened there. 

Now, as on every night, the place was ablaze with light. Big oil lampsby the score, backed by polished reflectors, illumined the interior. From within came the strains of guitars and the gay scrapings of afiddle, mingled with the hum of Spanish voices, an occasional oath inEnglish, and the rattle of chips and coins. 

At the hitch rack outside the saloon stood a big white horse--waiting. 

Kid Wolf was playing poker in the El Chihuahense, and he had been at itfor two solid hours. Those who knew The Kid better would have wonderedat this. Ordinarily, Kid Wolf was not a gamester. He played cardsrarely, never for any personal gain, and only when there seemed to be agood reason for so doing. But the Texan knew the game. 

A trio of Mexican landowners who thought they were skilled at it hadquickly found out their error--and withdrew, more or less gracefully. Now a crowd of swarthy-faced men, numbering more than a score, weremassed around the draw-poker table near the door. They were watchingthe masterful play of this slow-drawling hombre--this gringo strangerwho had been seen about Mariposa all day, and who now was "buckingheads" with a lone antagonist. 

Kid Wolf's opponent was also an American, but one well known to theMariposans. A stack of gold coins was piled in front of him, and heriffled the cards as he dealt in the manner of a professional. Thisman was young, also. He wore a green eye shade, and a diamondglittered in his fancy shirt. He was a gambler. 

The game seesawed for a time. First Kid Wolf would make a smallwinning, and then the man with the green eye shade. Most of the bets, however, were so heavy as to make the Mexicans about the table gaspwith envy. 

But the crisis was coming. The deal passed from the gambler to The Kidand back to the gambler again. The pot was already swollen from theantes. The Kid opened. 

"I'm stayin', " said the gambler crisply. He pushed in a small pile ofgold. "How many cards?"

"Two, " murmured The Kid. 

The gambler took one. The chances were, then, that he had two pairs, or was drawing to make a flush or a straight. 

Carefully the two men looked at their cards. Not a muscle of theirfaces twitched. The gambler's face was frozen--as expressionless as anIndian's. Kid Wolf was his easy self. His usual smile was very muchin evidence, unchanged. He made a bet--a large one, and the gamblercalled and raised heavily. The Kid boosted it again. Then there was asilence, broken only by the tense breathing of the onlookers, who hadpushed even closer about the table. 

"Five hundred more, " said the gambler after a nerve-racking pause. 

"And five, " The Kid drawled softly, pushing most of his gold into thecenter of the table. 

The gambler's hand shook the merest trifle. Again he looked at thepasteboards in his pale hands. Then he quickly pushed every cent hehad into the pot. 

"I'm seeing it, and I'm elevatin' it every coin on me. It'll costyuh--let's see--eight hundred and sixty more!"

It was more than the Texan had--by four hundred dollars. He could, however, stay for his stack. The man in the green eye shade could takeout four hundred to even the bet. The Kid, though, did not do this. 

"I'll just write an I O U fo' the balance, " he drawled. 

"But supposin' yore I O U ain't good?"

"Then this is good, " said Kid Wolf. 

The gambler stared. The Texan had placed a . 45 on the table near hisright hand. And it had been done so quickly that the onlookersexchanged glances. Who was this hombre?

"All right, " growled the man in the green eye shade. 

Kid Wolf wrote something with a pencil stub on a bit of paper. Whenfinished, he tossed it to the center of the gold pile, carefully folded. 

"That calls yo', " he said coolly. "What have yo'?"

Nervously, the gambler spread his hand face up on the table. His handswere shaking more than ever. 

"A king full, " he jerked out, wetting his lips. 

Three kings and a pair of tens--a very good layout in a two-handed gamewith a huge pot at stake!

"Beats me, " said The Kid. "I congratulate yo'. "

With a sigh of relief, the gambler began to pull the winnings towardhim. 

"Better look at the I O U, " The Kid drawled, "and see that it's allright and proper. " As he spoke, he tossed his cards carelessly towardthe gambler, face down. 

The youth in the green eye shade unfolded the paper and looked at thewriting within. His eyes widened a little and he looked again, blinking. Slowly the following words swam into his consciousness:

Son, you can't gamble worth a cent, but rake in the money and follow mein five minutes. I'll meet you back of the saloon. I'm your friend, Harry Thomas, and your mother's happiness is at stake. 

The gambler's face went a bit paler. Only his poker face kept theastonishment out of his eyes. Slowly and furtively he looked at thecards Kid Wolf had tossed away so carelessly. The Texan had held fouraces!

CHAPTER XIV

AT DON FLORISTO'S

In the moonlight, behind the El Chihuahense Saloon, Kid Wolf and thegambler met. The latter found The Kid leaning silently against aruined adobe wall in the deserted alleyway. The sound of the musicfrom within the gambling hall could be heard faintly. There was asilence after the two men faced each other. Harry Thomas finally brokeit:

"How did yuh know me? I go by the name of Phil Hall here. And who areyuh?"

"Just call me The Kid, " was the soft answer. "I knew yo' by yo' onebrown and one black eye. "

"What did yore note mean?"

"Harry, the S Bar is in great danger. Yo' father is dead, and yo'mothah----" And then Kid Wolf told the story in full. 

Harry Thomas listened in agitation. He was overcome with grief andremorse. His voice trembled when he spoke:

"I've been a fool, " he blurted, "worse than a fool. Poor mother! Whatcan I do now?"

"It isn't too late to help her, " The Kid told him kindly. "Yo' mothahneeds yo' badly. Findin' those stolen cattle wasn't so hahd, aftahall. Theah on Don Floristo's ranch just below heah. I've talked tothe don, and let the remahk drop that I'm interested in cattle. So Iam, but the don doesn't know in what way. He thinks I'm a rich gringowantin' to buy some. "

"Kid, I've learned my lesson. I'll never gamble again, " said Harryearnestly. 

Kid Wolf took his hand warmly. 

"Don Floristo has already given orders that the six hundred head of SBar steers are to be driven to Mariposa to-night. I am to ride southto his ranch and close the deal. Early mañana the three loyal S Barmen will seize the cattle and drive them home. Yo' and I must help. "

"Yo're riskin' yore life for strangers, Kid. Floristo is adyed-in-the-wool villain. If he suspects anything, he'll cut yorethroat. But I'm with yuh! Yuh've brought me to myself. I didn'tsuppose they made hombres like you!"

"Thanks, Harry. Now listen carefully and I'll tell yo' exactly what todo. "

For a few minutes The Kid talked earnestly to young Thomas, outliningtheir night's work. Then Kid Wolf took leave of the youngman--slipping back through the shadows to the street again. 

Harry Thomas walked quickly to the Establo--Mariposa's biggest liverystable. Kid Wolf mounted his horse Blizzard. He struck off throughthe town at an easy trot and headed southward through the darkness. 

Don Manuel Floristo's rancho was the largest in that part of Mexico. Several thousand steers roamed his range--steers that for the most partbore doubtful brands. Don Floristo's reputation was not of the best. His rancho was suspected of being a mere trading ground for stolenherds. Rustlers from both sides of the line made his land theirobjective. 

Kid Wolf had found the S Bar cattle easily enough. The brands had beengone over, being burned to an 8 Bar J. The work had been done sorecently, however, that he was not deceived. He had called on the donand told him that he was "interested in cattle, " which was true. Thedon's lust for gold had done the rest. He supposed that Kid Wolf wasan American who desired to go into the ranching business near theboundary. A good chance to get rid of the "hot" herd of six hundred!

"Just the size of herd the señor needs to start, " Floristo had said. "Six hundred head at ten pesos--six thousand pesos. Ees it not cheap, amigo?"

"Very cheap, " The Kid had told him. "Now if these cattle weredelivered at Mariposa----"

"Easy to say, but no harder to do, señor, " was the don's eager reply. "I will give orders now to have them driven there. Do you wish to buya ranch, señor? Or have you bought? Perhaps I could help. "

"Perhaps. But I want cattle right now. I have friends just no'th ofthe bordah. "

The don had smiled cunningly. This fool gringo would have trouble withthose stolen cattle if he drove them back into the States. That, however, was no concern of Floristo's. 

"Come back to-night, señor, " he had begged. And now The Kid was on hisway to the don's hacienda. He had purposely timed his visit so that hewould reach Floristo's rancho at a late hour. Already it was aftermidnight. 

Blizzard was unusually full of spirit. The slow pace to which The Kidheld him was hardly an outlet for his restless energy. 

"Steady, boy, " The Kid whispered. "We're savin' our strength--they'llbe plenty of fast ridin' to do latah. "

The Kid could not resist the temptation to break into song. His softchant rose above the faint whisper of the desert wind:

 "Oh, theah's jumpin' beans and six-guns south o' Rio, And _muy malo_ hombres by the dozen, We're a-watchin' out fo' trouble south o' Rio, And when it comes, some lead will be a-buzzin'. "

He smiled up at the stars, and turned Blizzard's head to the eastward. Before them loomed the low, white adobe walls of Don Floristo'shacienda. 

A dark-faced peon on guard outside, armed with a carbine, opened thedoor for him. Late as the hour was, lights were shining inside and heheard the welcoming sound of Don Floristo's voice as he passed throughthe entrance. 

"Ah, come in, come in, amigo. I was afraid the señor was not coming. _Como esta usted?_"

"_Buenas noches_, " returned The Kid, with easy politeness. "I trustyo' are in good health?"

The conversation after that was entirely in Spanish, as Kid Wolf spokethe language like a native. His Southern accent made the Mexicantongue all the more musical. He followed his host into a rather large, square room with a beautifully tiled floor. The don motioned The Kidto a chair. 

"The cattle of which we--ah--spoke, señor, " said the don, as he lighteda long brown cigarette. "They are on the way to Mariposa. Areprobably there even now, amigo. "

"Yes?" drawled Kid Wolf. 

"You will have men there to receive them?"

"Without fail, " replied the Texan, a strange inflection in his tones. 

"It is well, my friend. With the cattle are four of my men. They willnot turn over the herd, of course, until"--he pausedsignificantly--"the money is paid. "

Kid Wolf smiled. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. 

"One does not pay for stolen cattle, Don Floristo, " he drawled. 

The muscles of the don's body stiffened. Kid Wolf's face was a smilingmask. The show-down had come. There was a long pause. The Kid's armswere folded easily on his breast. 

"Who are you?" the don snarled suddenly. 

"Kid Wolf of Texas, sah, " was the quiet reply. 

A cold smile was on the sallow face of the don. He made no move todraw the jeweled revolver that hung at his hip. He sneered as he spoke:

"You will never escape from here alive, my friend, " he leered. "Whatyou have told me is not exactly news. At this moment you are covered. "

"Yes?" mocked The Kid. 

"Come in, major!" cried Don Floristo. 

A door at one end of the room, which had been standing half ajar, nowopened. Framed in the doorway was the bloated, fat figure of MajorStover. In his hand was a derringer. Its twin black muzzles wereleveled at Kiel Wolf's heart. 

The major's face twisted into an exulting grin as his piglike eyes fellon Kid Wolf. 

"We meet again, " he grated. 

"You see, Señor Keed Wolf, " said Don Floristo, "that we have you. Byaccident, Señor Wolf, your plans miscarried. Thinking I could sell youa ranch, as you were buying cattle, I sent a rider _al instante_ for myfriend, the Major Stover. He came at once, and when I describedyou----" He laughed harshly. 

The Don removed The Kid's revolvers and threw them on the table. Themajor's derringer did not waver. 

"I see that yo' have prepared quite a surprise pahty fo' me, " said TheKid calmly. "Remember that theah are all sorts of surprises. I didn'thave to come back heah, yo' know. The cattle I want are at Mariposa. "

"Then why are you here, fool?" the don sneered. 

"To find out who is at the bottom of the cattle stealin'--thispersecution against Mrs. Thomas' ranch!" Kid Wolf snapped. 

"What good is it to know?" asked Stover, laughing. "Yo're goin' todie!"

"Shoot him, major, " said the don, baring his white teeth. 

"There's no hurry, " replied the major. "I want to see him pray formercy first. I've got a score to settle with him. "

The Kid remained unmoved in the presence of this peril. He was stillsmiling. 

"Yuh'll never live to get those cattle across the line, blast yuh!"snarled Stover, trembling with rage. "It was a pretty little scheme, but it failed to work. And we've got the S Bar where we want it, too. No, yuh don't! Just keep yore hands over yore head. "

"_El Lobo Muchacho_, " the don sneered. "_El Lobo Muchacho_--Keed Wolf. I think we have your fangs drawn now, Señor Wolf! The Wolf is in a badway. Alas, he cannot bite. " He finished with a cruel laugh. 

But The Kid could bite--and did! One of the fangs of the wolf, and adeadly one, remained to him. He used it now!

Major Stover did not know how it happened. Kid Wolf's arms werelifted. Apparently he was helpless. But suddenly there was a swish--alightning-like gleam of light. Something hit Stover's gun arm like athunder smash. 

Kid Wolf has used his "ace in the hole"--had hurled the bowie knifehidden in a sheath sewn inside the back of his shirt collar. 

The major's hand went suddenly numb. He dropped the derringer. Theblade had thudded into his forearm and sliced deeply upward. Dazed, heemitted a wild cry. 

The don was not slow to act. He did not know exactly what hadhappened, but he saw the major's gun fall and heard his frightenedyell. Floristo reached hastily for his jewel-studded revolver. 

But the Texan had closed in on him. Kid Wolf hit him full in the faceand Floristo went sprawling down. He was still jerking at his gun buttas he hit the floor. 

The major had recovered somewhat. With his left hand he scooped up thederringer and swung it up desperately to line the barrel on Kid Wolf'sheart. 

"All right, Harry!" sang out The Kid. 

Glass flew out of the window at the south wall and clattered to thetiled floor as an arm, holding a leveled . 45, broke through. It wasyoung Thomas. 

"Put 'em up!" he cried. 

Don Floristo, however, had also raised his gun. A report shook theadobe walls and sent a puff of blue fumes ceilingward. But HarryThomas had fired first. Floristo collapsed with a moan, rolled overand stiffened. 

Kid Wolf sent Major Stover's derringer flying with a contemptuous kick, just as the fear-crazed fat man pulled the trigger. 

"Good work, Harry, " The Kid approved. 

He stepped to the table, returned his own six-guns to their holstersand then reached out and seized Major Stover by the collar. He shookhim like a rat as he jerked him to his feet. 

"Well, majah, as yo' calls yo'self, " he drawled, "looks like thesurprise worked the othah way round!"

Stover's flabby face was blue-gray. His knees gave way under him andhis coarse lips were twitching. His eyes rolled wildly. 

"Don't kill me, " he wheezed in an agony of fright. "It wasn't myfault. I--I--Goliday made me do it. He's the man behind me. D-don'tkill--me. "

Suddenly his head rolled to one side and his bulky body wilted. Hesagged to the floor with a hiccupping sound. 

"Get up!" snapped the Texan. 

There was no response. The Kid felt of Stover's heart and straightenedup with a low whistle. 

"Dead, " he muttered. "Scared to death. Weak heart--just as I thought. "

"Did yuh shoot the big brute?" asked Harry, who had pushed his bodythrough the window and slipped into the room. 

"His guilty conscience killed him, " explained the Texan. "Yo' saved mylife, son, by throwin' down on Don Floristo. Yo' got him between theshirt buttons. "

"I wanted to shoot long before, " said Harry, "but I remembered--andwaited until yuh said the word. Yuh shore stopped that derringer o'Stover's. "

"Wheah's the guard?"

"Tied up outside. "

"_Bueno_. I rode down heah slow, so yo'd have plenty o' time to getposted. I suspected treachery of some kind to-night. But it was asurprise to see the majah heah. What time is it?"

"After two. The moon's gone down. Where to, now?"

"To Mariposa. We can get theah by dawn, and if the boys are ready wecan turn the trick. "

"Then let's go, Kid!"

Five minutes later the two were pounding the trail northward toward theRio Grande!

CHAPTER XV

GOLIDAY'S CHOICE

The east was streaked with pink and orange when The Kid and HarryThomas rode into the sleeping town of Mariposa. The little Mexicancity, they discovered, however, was not entirely asleep. 

At the northern edge of the city, on the stretch of sand between thehuddled adobes and the sandy waters of the Rio, things had taken place. 

Harry and The Kid rode up to see a camp fire twinkling in the bottom ofan arroyo just out of sight of Mariposa. Near it was the herd of sixhundred steers, some down and resting, others milling restlessly aboutunder the watchful eyes of three shadowy riders. 

"Are those the don's men?" asked Harry in astonishment. 

"Too far north, " chuckled The Kid. "Look down by the fire!"

Tied securely with lariat rope, four figures reclined near the smokingembers. They were not Americans. The two grinning newcomers saw that, even before they made out their swarthy faces. The prisoners wore thedirty velvet jackets and big sombreros of Mexico. 

"Theah's the don's men, " said The Kid, laughing. "Come on!"

He rode toward one of the mounted shadows and whistled softly. The manturned. It was just light enough to make out his features. It wasAnton. 

"By golly, Kid, " he yelped out. "Yo're here at last! We'd about giveyuh up!"

"I see that yo' didn't wait fo' me, " returned the Texan, smiling. 

Wise and Lathum, seeing their visitors, spurred their mounts towardthem. They greeted him with an exulting yell. 

"We turned the trick!" Wise exclaimed. "Not a shot fired. Did ithours ago. "

"Yuh see, Kid, " said Anton, "we just naturally got so impatient andnervous waitin' that we couldn't stand it any longer. O' course, itwas contrary to yore plans, maybe, but we saw the S Bar steers, stoodit as long as we could, and swooped down. How yuh got 'em here and had'em waitin' fer us like this is more'n I can see!"

"Yo' did well, " approved Kid Wolf. "I thought maybe yo'd know what todo. "

"Who is thet with yuh?" asked Anton, coming a bit closer. "Well, blamed if it ain't--Harry Thomas! Where--how----"

"Yes, it's me, boys, " said Harry shamefacedly. "I've been a bad one, Iknow. But my friend, The Kid, here has opened my eyes to what's right. I want to go straight, and----" His voice trailed off. 

"Harry's played the hand of a real man to-night, " Kid Wolf put in forhim. 

"I'm through as a gambler, " said Harry. "Boys, will yuh take me for afriend?"

"Well, I should say we will!" Lathum cried, and all three shook hishand warmly. 

"Yore mother will be mighty proud, son--and glad, " old Anton said. 

"Now, men, " said The Kid, "get those steers movin' toward the S Bar. Yuh ought to have 'em across the Rio by sunup. Theah won't be anypursuit. Don Floristo isn't in any position to ordah it. I'll seeyo'-all at Ma Thomas' dinnah table. "

"Where are you goin', Kid?" Lathum asked in astonishment. 

"Harry will help yo' get the cattle home, " said The Kid. "I'm ridin'like all get-out to make Mistah Goliday, Esquiah, a social call. "

"But why----" Wise began. 

"I've just remembahed, " drawled The Kid, "wheah I saw a pair oflow-heeled, square-toed ridin' boots. "

Anton gave a low whistle. 

"By golly, boys. He's right! I remember now, too. "

"So do I!" ejaculated Lathum. 

"How about lettin' us go, too?" asked Wise. "Goliday has some hardhombres workin' for him, and----"

"Please leave this to me, " begged The Kid. "Yo' duty is heah withthese cattle. All mah life I've made it mah duty to right wrongs--andnot only that, but to put the wrongdoers wheah they can't commit anymo' wrongs. Goliday is the mastah mind in all this trouble. Is theaha sho't cut to his ranch?"

Anton knew the trails of the district like a memorized map, and he gaveThe Kid detailed instructions. By following the mountain chain to thewestward he would reach a dry wash that would lead him to a pointwithin sight of Goliday's hacienda. 

"Still set on it?"

The Kid nodded. "Adios! Yuh'll probably get through to the S Bar ingood time. Good-by, Harry. "

"Good luck!" they shouted after him. 

At the crest of a mesquite-dotted swell of white sand, several hourslater, The Kid paused to look over the situation that confronted him. 

Ahead of him, to the westward, were the buildings of the Goliday ranch. Strangely enough, there was no sign of life around it--save for thehorses in the large corral and the cattle meandering about the waterhole. 

Was the entire ranch personnel in San Felipe? Impossible! And yet hehad seen no one. The Kid hoped that Goliday was not in town. 

A desert wash led its twisting way to one side of him, and he saw thatby following its course he could reach the trees about the water holeunobserved. 

"Easy, Blizzahd, " he said softly. 

The sand deadened the sound of the big white horse's hoofs as it tookthe dry wash at a speedy clip. Kid Wolf crouched low, so that his bodywould not show above the edge of the wash. At the water hole he drewup in the shelter of a cottonwood to listen. His ears had caught asuccession of steady, measured sounds. They came from one of the smalladobe outbuildings. Inside, some one was hammering leather. This wasthe ranch's saddle shop evidently. 

Very quietly The Kid dismounted. The saddle shop was not far away. Hestrolled toward it, wading through the sand that reached nearly to hisankles. He paused in the doorway, and the hammering sound suddenlyceased. 

"_Buenos dias_, " drawled the Texan. 

The man in the shop was Goliday! He had whirled about like a cat. Thehammer slipped from his right hand and dropped to the hard-packed earthfloor with a thud. 

Kid Wolf's eyes went from Goliday's dark, amazed face, with its shockof black hair, down to his boots. They were low-heeled, square-toedboots, embellished with scrolls done in red thread. The Kid's quietglance traveled again back to Goliday's startled countenance. Dismayand fury were mingled there. Kid Wolf had made no movement toward hisguns. His hands were relaxed easily at his sides. He was smiling. 

Goliday's ivory-handled gun was in his pistol holster. His hand moveda few inches toward it. Then it stopped. Goliday hesitated. Face toface with the show-down, he was afraid. 

"Well, " the ranchman's words came slowly, "what do yuh want with me?"

"I want yo', " said The Kid in a voice ringing like a sledge on solidsteel, "fo' the murdah of the ownah of the S Bar!"

"Bah!" sneered Goliday, but a strange look crossed his dark eyes. Hislegs were trembling a little, either from excitement or nervousness. 

"Yo're loco, " he added. "My men are in town or I'd have yuh rode offof my place on a rail!"

"Goliday, " snapped Kid Wolf crisply, "the man who shot Thomas down, wore low-heeled, square-toed boots. "

"Yuh can't convict a man on that, " replied the ranchman with a forcedlaugh. 

"No?" The Kid drawled. "Well, that isn't all. The man who fired thedeath shot used a very peculiah revolvah--very peculiar. The caliberwas . 45. Wait a moment--a . 45 with unusual riflin'. "

"Yo're crazy, " said Goliday, but his face was pale. 

"By examinin' the cahtridge, " continued the Texan in a dangerous voice, "I found that the fatal gun had five grooves and five lands. The usualsix-shootah has six grooves and six lands. Let me see yo' gun, sah!"

The command came like a whip-crack and little drops of perspirationstood out suddenly on Goliday's ashen forehead. 

"It's a lie, " he stammered. "I----"

"Yo' had bettah confess, Goliday. The game's up. Majah Stovah diedearly this mohnin' from heart trouble. Goliday, yo' can do just twothings. The choice is up to yo'. '"

"The choice?" repeated the rancher mechanically. 

"Yes, yo' can surrendah--and in that case, I'll turn yo' ovah to thenearest law, if it's a thousand miles away. Or--yo' can shoot it outwith me heah and now. It's up to yo'. "

"Yuh wanted to see my gun, " said Goliday, with a sudden, deadly laugh. "All right, I'll show yuh what's in it!"

Like a flash his hairy right hand shot down toward the ivory-handledColt. 

The ranchman's hand touched the handle before Kid Wolf made even a movetoward his own weapons. Goliday's eager, fear-accelerated fingerssnapped the hammer back. The gun slid half out of its holster as hetipped it up. 

There was a noise in the little adobe like a thunderclap! A red pencilof flame streaked out between the two men. Then the smoke rolled out, dense and choking. _Thud!_ A gun dropped to the hard, dirt floor. 

Goliday groped out with his two empty hands for support. His face wasdistorted. A long gasp came from his lips. A round dot had suddenlyappeared two inches left of his breast bone. He dropped heavily, grunting as he struck the ground. 

Paying no more attention to him, Kid Wolf holstered his own smoking . 45and bent over and picked up Goliday's ivory-handled weapon. He smiledgrimly as he peered into the muzzle. A very peculiar gun! There werefive grooves and five lands, which are the spaces between the grooves, the uncut metal. 

Goliday, with a bullet just below his heart, was not quite dead. Herealized what had happened. He was done for. Rapidly, as if afraidthat he could not finish what he wished to say, he began to speak:

"Yuh--were right. I killed Thomas. I wanted the S Bar. I'm afraid togo like this, Kid Wolf. I tell yuh I'm afraid!" His voice rose to ashriek. "There's murder on my soul, and there'll--be more. Quick!Quick!"

"Is there anything I can do?" The Kid asked, generous even to a fallenenemy such as Goliday. 

"Yes, " Goliday groaned. "All my men aren't in town. I sent SteveStacy and Ed Mullhall--down to the S Bar--a little while ago--to doaway with Mrs. Thomas. Stop 'em! Stop 'em! I don't want to die withthis on my soul. I--I----"

His words ended in a gurgling moan. His face twitched and thenrelaxed. He was dead. 

His dying words had thrilled Kid Wolf with horror. Steve Stacy and EdMullhall on their way to murder Ma Thomas! Perhaps they were at the SBar already! Perhaps their terrible work was done! The Kid went white. 

But he wasted no time in wringing his hands. At a dead run he left thesaddle shop and the dead villain within it. He whistled for Blizzard. The horse raced to meet him. With a bound The Kid was in the saddle. He knew of no trail to the S Bar. He must cut across country. Therewas no time to hunt for one. Then, too, he must cut off as much as hecould. In that way, if the two killers followed a more or less windingtrail, he might overtake them. 

The country was rough and broken. And, worse still, Blizzard wastired. He had been on the go for many hours. There was a limit evento the creamy-white horse's superb strength. It seemed hopeless. Southeast they tore at breakneck speed. Blizzard seemed to sense whatwas required of him. He ran like mad, clamping down on the bit, hismuscles rippling under his glossy hide--a hide that was already fleckedwith foam. 

"Go like yo' nevah went befo', Blizzahd boy, " The Kid sobbed. 

Never had he been up against a plot so ruthless, a situation moreterrible. A lone woman, Ma Thomas, had been selected for the nextvictim!

As they pounded along, a thousand thoughts tortured the mind of TheKid. In a way, it was his fault. It was by his suggestion that Mrs. Thomas had returned to the ranch. Already, possibly, she was dead!Kid Wolf had never been angrier. The emotion that gripped him was morethan anger. If he could only reach that S Bar in time!

He rode over hills of sand, across stretches of soft, yielding sandthat slowed even Blizzard's furiously drumming hoofs, over treacherousfields of lava rock, through cactus forests. Up and down he went, butalways on, and always heading southward toward the ranch. Very rarelydid The Kid use the spurs, but he used them now, roweling Blizzarddesperately. And the white horse responded like a machine. 

There is a limit to the endurance of any animal, however strong. Blizzard could not keep up that pace forever. He had begun to pant. He was running on sheer courage now. Then The Kid mounted a rise. Ahead of him he saw two moving dots--horsemen, bound toward the S Bar!They were Stacy and Mullhall, without a doubt!

Kid Wolf's heart leaped. They had not reached the ranch yet, at anyrate. There was still hope. Again and again he raked Blizzard withthe spurs. The horse was living up to his name now, running like awhite snowstorm. Already the distance between Kid Wolf and the otherhorsemen was lessened. But they had seen him! Before, they had beenriding at a leisurely pace. Now they broke into a gallop!

"Get 'em, Blizzahd, " cried The Kid. "We've got to get those men, boy!"

Suddenly before The Kid a deep arroyo yawned. The walls were steep. There was no time to go around, or seek a place to make the crossing. It looked like the end. A full twenty feet! A tremendous leap, andfor a tired horse----

"Jump it, boy! Jump it!"

Again Blizzard was raked with the spur. They were nearly at the arroyoedge now. It was very deep. Would Blizzard take it, or refuse?

Kid Wolf knew his horse. He already felt Blizzard rising madly in theair. The danger now was in the fall. For if the horse failed to makeit, death would be the issue. Jagged rocks thirty feet below awaitedhorse and rider if the leap failed. 

But Blizzard made it! He scrambled desperately on, the far edge for abreathless moment while the soft sand caked and caved. The Kid threwhis weight forward. Safely across, Blizzard was off again, gallopinglike a white demon. 

Kid Wolf unlimbered one of his Colts. The range was almost impossible. Six times The Kid shot. One of the men toppled from his saddle andfell sprawling. The other rider kept on. 

The Kid did not fire any more, for he knew that he had been luckyindeed, to get one of them at such a distance. He bent all his effortstoward heading off the other. Already the S Bar hacienda was withinsight. There was no time to lose!

As The Kid pounded past he saw the face of the man who had been struckby the chance bullet. It was Mullhall. Stacy kept going. He wasurging his horse to top speed, bent upon reaching the ranch and gettingin his work before The Kid could catch him. 

Blizzard had reached his limit. His pace was faltering. Little bylittle he began to lag behind. He was nearly spent. Only an expertrider could have done what The Kid did then. Without slackeningBlizzard's speed, he slipped his saddle. With the reins in his teeth, he worked loose the latigo and cinch, taking care not to trip thespeeding horse. Then he swung himself backward, freed the saddle andblanket and hurled both sidewise. He was riding bareback now!

Relieved of forty pounds of dead weight, Blizzard lengthened his strideand took new courage. He was overhauling Stacy now yard by yard!

Stacy turned in his saddle and emptied his gun at his pursuer--sixquick spats of smoke and six slugs of whining lead. All went wild, forit was difficult to aim at such a smashing gallop. 

"We've got him now, boy, " The Kid gasped. "Close in!"

Farther south, in the distance, he saw a great dust cloud moving inslowly. It was the riders with the recovered herd! But The Kid onlyhad a glimpse. Steve Stacy was whirling about desperately to meet him. Once again The Kid was involved in a showdown to the bitter finish!

Kid Wolf's left-hand Colt sputtered from his hip. He had no more mercyfor Stacy than he would have had for a rattlesnake that had bitten afriend. 

_Br-r-rang-bang! Spat-spat!_ Stacy, hit twice, still blazed away. Abullet ripped through the Texan's sleeve. Again he fired. Theex-foreman fell, part way. The stirrup caught his left foot as hishead went into the sand. Stacy's horse reared back, started to run, then stopped and waited patiently for its master who would never rise. 

There was feasting at the S Bar hacienda. The table was heavily ladenwith dishes--once full of delicious viands but now empty. The men, five in all, had brought out their "makin's. " Ma Thomas, bustlingabout with more coffee and a wonderful dessert she had mysteriouslyprepared, beamed down on them. 

"You're surely not through already, are you, boys?" she protested. "Why, there's more pie and cake, and besides the----"

"I've et, " sighed Anton, "until I'm about to bust. "

There was a pause during which five matches were struck and applied tothe ends of five cigarettes. 

"Well, " sighed Kid Wolf, "I hope Blizzahd has enjoyed his dinnah asmuch as I've enjoyed mine. He deserves it!"

"What a wonderful horse!" cried Ma Thomas. "And to think that if hehadn't ran so fast, those terrible men----" Her voice broke off. 

"Now don't yo' worry of that any mo', " drawled The Kid with a smile. "Yo' troubles are ovah, I hope. "

The Kid occupied the seat of honor, at Mrs. Thomas' right. Her son, Harry, as happy as he had ever been in his life, sat on the other. Anton, Wise, and Lathum were grouped about the rest of the table, leaning back in their chairs. 

"When Blizzahd is rested, " said The Kid, in a matter-of-fact tone, "we'll be strikin' westward. I'm kind of anxious to see what's doin'ovah in New Mexico and Arizona. "

"Yo're surely not goin' to leave us so soon!" they all cried. 

The Kid nodded. 

"Mah work seems to be done heah, " he said, smiling. "And I'm justnaturally a rollin' stone, always rollin' toward new adventures. I'msho' yo'-all are goin' to be very happy. "

"We owe it all to you!" Ma Thomas cried. "All of our good fortune. Ihave the ranch and the cattle, and more wonderful than everythingelse--my boy, Harry!"

Kid Wolf looked embarrassed. "Please don't try and thank me, " hemurmured. "It's just mah job--to keep an eye out fo' those in need ofhelp. "

"Won't yuh take a half interest in the S Bar, Kid?" Harry begged. 

Kid Wolf shook his head. 

"But, say, " blurted Harry. He leaned across the table to whisper:

"How about all that money in that poker game down in Mariposa? It'syores, not mine!"

"I did that, " said The Kid, as he whispered back, "so yo' could buy Maa little present. Don't forget! A nice one!"

"What did I ever--ever do to deserve this happiness?" Ma Thomas sighed, and she interrupted the furtive conversation of the two young men byplacing a big dish of shortcake between them. 

"By gettin' aftah me with a shotgun, " said Kid Wolf with a laugh. 

CHAPTER XVI

A GAME OF POKER

A whitened human skull, fastened to a post by a rusty tenpenny nail, served as a signboard and notified the passing traveler that he wasabout to enter the limits of Skull, New Mexico. 

 "Oh, we're ridin' 'way from Texas, and the Rio, Comin' to a town with a mighty scary name, Shall we turn and vamos pronto for the Rio, Or show some hombres how to make a wild town tame?"

Kid Wolf, who appeared to be asking Blizzard the rather poeticalquestion, eyed the gruesome monument with a half smile. Bullet holesmarked it here and there, testifying that many a passer-by with moremarksmanship than respect had used it for a casual target. The emptysockets seemed to glare spitefully, and the shattered upper jaw grinnedin mockery at the singer. It was as if the grisly relic had heard thesong and laughed. Kid Wolf's smile flashed white against the copper ofhis face. Then his smile disappeared and his eyes, blue-gray, took onfrosty little glints. 

The Kid, after straightening out the troubled affairs of the Thomasfamily, was heading northwest again. It was the age-old wanderlustthat led him out of the Rio country once more. 

"What do yo' say, Blizzahd?" he drawled. 

His tones held just a trace of sarcasm. It was as if he had weighedthe veiled threat in the town's sign and found it grimly humorousinstead of sinister. 

The big white horse threw up its shapely head in a gesture ofimpatience that was almost human. 

"All right, Blizzahd, " approved its rider. "Into Skull, New Mexico, wego!"

Kid Wolf had heard something of Skull's reputation, and although it wasjust accident that had turned him this way, he was filled with a mildcuriosity. The Texan never made trouble, but he was hardly the man toavoid it if it crossed his path. 

As he neared the town, he was rather surprised at its size. Thebudding cattle industry had boomed the surrounding country, and Skullhad grown like a mushroom. Lights were twinkling in the twilight froma hundred windows, and as the newcomer passed the scattered adobes atthe edge of it, he could hear the _clip-clop_ of many horses, the soundof men's voices, and mingled strains of music. The little city wasevidently very much alive. 

There were two principal streets, cutting each other at right angles, each more than a hundred yards long and jammed with buildings of frameand sod. Kid Wolf read the signs on them as the horse trottedsouthward:

"Bar. Tony's Place. Saloon. General merchandise. Saddle shop. Bar. Saloon. Hotel and bar. Well, well, seems as if we have mo' than ouahshare o' saloons heah. This seems to be the biggest one. Shall westop heah, Blizzahd?"

There seemed to be no choice in the matter. One could take his pick ofsaloons, for nothing else was open at this hour. The sign over thelargest read, "The Longhorn Palace. "

Kid Wolf left Blizzard at the hitch rack and sauntered through the opendoors. A lively scene met his eyes. It interested and at the sametime disgusted The Kid. A long bar stretched from the front door tothe end of the building, and a dozen or more men leaned against it invarious stages of intoxication. In spite of the fact that the salooninterior was well lighted by suspended oil lamps, the air was thick andfoul with liquor fumes and cigarette smoke. A half dozen gamblingtables, all busy, stood at the far end of the room. 

The mirror behind the bar was chipped here and there with bullet marks, and over it were three enormous steer heads with wide-spreading horns. It was evident that drunken marksmen had taken pot shots at theseornaments, also, for they were pitted here and there with . 45 holes. Kid Wolf was by no means impressed. He had been in bad towns aplenty, and he usually found that the evil of them was pure bluff and bravado. Smiling, he strolled over to the gambling tables. 

The stud-poker table attracted his attention, first by the size of thestakes and then by the men gathered there. It was a stiff game, opening bets sometimes being as much as fifty dollars. Apparently thelid was off. 

The hangers-on in the Longhorn seemed to be of one type and resembledprofessional gunmen more than they did cattlemen. The men at the pokertable looked like desperadoes, and one of them especially took TheKid's observing eye. 

A huge-chested man in a checkered shirt was at the head of the tableand seemed to have the game well in hand, for his chip stacks werehigh, and a pile of gold pieces lay behind them. His closely croppedblack beard could not conceal the cruelty of his flaring nostrils andsensual mouth. He was overbearing and loud of speech, and hismenacing, insolent stare seemed to have every one cowed. 

Kid Wolf was a keen student of men. He had learned to read humannature, and this gambler interested him as a thoroughly brutal specimen. 

"It'll cost yuh-all another hundred to stay and see this out, " thebearded man announced with a sneer. 

"I'm out, " grunted one of the players. 

Another, with "more in sight" than the bearded gambler, turned over hiscards in disgust, and with a chuckle of joy, the first speaker draggedin the pot and added the chips to his mounting stacks. He seemed tohave the others buffaloed. 

The card players had been absorbed in their game until now. But as thenew deal was begun, the bearded gambler saw the Texan's eyes upon him. 

"Are yuh starin' at me?" he rasped. "Walk away, or get in--one o' thetwo. Yuh'll kill my luck. "

"Pahdon me, sah. I don't think I could kill such luck as yo's. "

The Kid's voice was full of soothing politeness. The gambler made themistake of thinking the stranger in awe of him. Many a man before himhad taken the Texan's soft, drawling speech the wrong way. 

"Well, are yuh gettin' in the game?"

"I'm not a gamblin' man, sah. " The Texan smiled. 

The bearded man exposed his teeth in a contemptuous leer. 

"From yore talk, yo're nothin' but a cheap cotton picker. Guess thisgame's too stiff fer yuh, " he said. 

The expression of the Texan's face did not change, but curious littleflecks of light appeared in his steellike eyes. He laughed quietly. 

"I'd get in, " he said, "but I'd hate to take yo' money. "

"Don't let that worry yuh, " the big-chested gambler snarled. "Sit in, or shut up and get out!"

If Kid Wolf was angered, he made no sign of it. His lips still smiled, as he drew a chair up to the table. 

"Deal me in, " he drawled. 

The atmosphere of the game seemed to change. It was as if all theplayers had united to fleece the newcomer, with the bearded desperadoleading the attack. 

At first, Kid Wolf lost, and the gambler--called "Blacksnake" McCoy bythe other men--added to his chip stacks. Then the game seesawed, afterwhich the Texan began to win small bets steadily. But the crisis wascoming. Sooner or later, Blacksnake would try to run Kid Wolf out, andthe Texan knew it. 

The size of the bets increased, and a little crowd began to gatherabout the stud table. In spite of the fact that Blacksnake was aswaggering, abusive-mouthed fellow, the sympathies of the Longhornloafers seemed to be with him. 

He seemed to be a sort of leader among them, and a group of sullen-eyedgunmen were looking on, expecting to see Kid Wolf beaten in short order. 

Finally a tenseness in the very air testified to the fact that the timefor big action had come. The pot was already large, and all haddropped out except Blacksnake and the drawling stranger. 

"I'm raisin' yuh five hundred, 'Cotton-picker, '" sneered the beardedman insolently. 

He had a pair of aces in sight--a formidable hand--and if his hole cardwas also an ace, Kid Wolf had not a chance in the world. The best theTexan could show up was a pair of treys. 

"My name, sah, " said Kid Wolf politely, "is not Cotton-pickah, althoughthat is bettah than 'Bone-pickah'--an appropriate name fo' some people. I'm Kid Wolf, sah, from Texas. And my enemies usually learn to call meby mah last name. I'm seein' yo' bet and raisin' yo' another fivehundred, sah. "

At the name "Kid Wolf, " a stir was felt in the crowded saloon. It wasa name many of them had heard before, and most of the loungers began tolook upon the stranger with more respect. Others frowned darkly. Blacksnake was one of them. Plainly, what he had heard of The Kid didnot tend to make the latter popular in his estimation. 

"Excuse me, " he spat out. "I should have called yuh 'Nose-sticker. 'From what I hear of yuh, yuh have a habit of mindin' other folks'business. Well, that ain't healthy in Skull. "

If the Texan was provoked by these insults, he did not show it. Heonly smiled gently. 

"We're playin' pokah now, I believe, " he reminded. "Are yuh seein' mahbet?"

"That's right, bet 'em like yuh had 'em. And I hope yore hole card'sanother three-spot, for that'll make it easy for my buried ace. I'mseein' yuh and boostin' it--for yore pile!"

Quietly The Kid swept all his chips into the center of the table. Hehad called, and it was a show-down. With an oath, Blacksnake got halfto his feet. He turned his hole card over. It was a nine-spot, but hehad Kid Wolf beaten unless----

Slowly The Kid revealed his hole card. It was not a trey, but a four. Just as good, for this made him two small pairs--threes and fours. Hehad won!

"No, " he drawled, "I wouldn't reach for my gun, if I were yo'. "

Blacksnake took his hand away from the butt of his . 45. It came awayfaster than it had gone for it. Guns had appeared suddenly in theTexan's two hands. His draw had been so swift that nobody had caughtthe elusive movement. 

"This game is bein' played with cahds, even if they are crooked cahds, and not guns, sah!"

"Crooked!" breathed Blacksnake. "Are yuh hintin' that I'm a crook?"

"I'm not hintin', " said The Kid, with a flashing smile. "I'm sayin' itright out. The aces in that deck were marked in the cornahs withthumb-nail scratches. It might have gone hahd with me, if I hadn'tmahked the othah cahds too--with thumb-nail scratches!"

"Yuh admit yuh marked them cards?" yelled Blacksnake in fury. "Whatabout it, men? He's a cheat and ought to be strung up!"

Most of the onlookers were doing their best to conceal grins, and evenBlacksnake's sympathizers made no move to do anything. Perhaps TheKid's two drawn six-shooters had something to do with it. 

"Yuh got two thousand dollars from this game--twenty hundred even, "Blacksnake snarled. "Are yuh goin' to return that money?"

"I'll put the money wheah it belongs, " the Texan drawled. "Gentlemen, when I said I wasn't a gamblin' man, I meant it. I nevah gamble. Butwhen I saw that this game was not a gamble, but just a cool robbery, Isat in. "

He holstered one of his guns and swooped up the pile of money from thecenter of the table. This cleaned it, save for one pile of chips infront of the bearded bully. 

"It's customary, " said Kid Wolf, "always to kick in with a chip fo' the'kitty, ' and so----"

His Colt suddenly blazed. There was a quick finger of orange-coloredfire and a puff of smoke. The top chip of Blacksnake's stack suddenlyhad disappeared, neatly clipped off by The Kid's bullet. And the Texanhad shot casually from the hip, apparently without taking aim!

Kid Wolf returned his still-smoking gun to its holster, turned his backand sauntered leisurely toward the door. Halfway to it, he turnedquickly. He did not draw his guns again, but only looked Blacksnakesteadily in the eyes. 

"Remembah, " he said, "that I can see yo' in the mirrah. "

With an oath, Blacksnake took his hand away from his gun butt, towardwhich it had been furtively traveling. He had forgotten about thebullet-scarred glass over the long bar. 

As the Texan strolled through the door, a man who had been watching thescene turned to follow him. 

"Kid Wolf, " he called, "I'd like to see yuh, alone. "

The voice was friendly. Kid Wolf turned, and as he did so, he jostledthe speaker, apparently by accident. 

"Excuse me, " drawled the Texan. "I didn't know yo' were so closebehind me. "

"I'm a friend, " said the other earnestly. "Let's walk down the streeta way. I've something important to say--something that might interestyuh. "

The Kid had appraised him at a glance, although this stranger was farfrom being an ordinary person either in face or dress. His garb wassevere and clerical. He wore a long black coat, black trousers neatlytucked into boots, a white shirt, and a flowing dark tie. Yet he wasnot of the gambler type. He seemed to be unarmed, for he had no gunbelt. His face, seen from the reflected lights of the saloon, wasclean-shaven. His eyes seemed set too close together, and the lipswere very thin. 

"Very well, I'll listen, " The Kid consented. 

The two started to walk slowly down the board sidewalk. 

"They call me 'Gentleman John, '" said the black-clothed stranger. "Have yuh been in Skull long? Expect to stay hereabouts for a while?"

The Texan answered both these questions shortly but politely. He hadarrived that evening, he said, and he wasn't sure how long he wouldremain in the vicinity. 

"How would yuh like, " tempted the man who had styled himself GentlemanJohn, "to make a hundred dollars a day?"

"Honestly?" asked The Kid. 

The man in black pursed his lips and spread out his palms significantly. 

"Whoever heard of a gunman making that much honestly?" he laughedcoldly. "Maybe I should tell yuh somethin' about myself. They call methe 'Cattle King of New Mexico. ' The man yuh bucked in the pokergame--Blacksnake McCoy--is at the head of my--ah--outfit. "

"Oh, " said The Kid softly, "yo're that kind of a cattle king. "

"Out here, " Gentleman John leered, "the Colt is power. I've gotranches, cattle. I've managed to do well. I need gunmen--men who canshoot fast and obey orders. I can see that yo're a better man thanBlacksnake. I'm payin' him fifty a day. Take his job, and yuh'll geta hundred. "

Kid Wolf did not seem in the least enthusiastic, and the man in blackwent on eagerly:

"Yuh won a couple o' thousand to-night, Kid. But that won't lastforever. Think what a hundred in gold a day means. And all yuh haveto do is ter----"

"Murdah!" snapped the Texan. "Yo've mistaken yo' man, sah. Mah answahis 'no'! I'm not a hired killah, and the man who tries to hire me hadbettah beware. Why, yo're nothin' but a cheap cutthroat!"

The cold eyes of the other suddenly blazed. He made a quick motiontoward his waistcoat with his thin hand. 

Kid Wolf laughed quietly. "Heah's yo' gun, sah, " he said, handing theastonished Gentleman John a small, ugly derringer. "When I bumped intoyo' in the doorway, I took the liberty to remove it. I nevah trust anhombre with eyes like yo's. Nevah mind tryin' to use it, fo' I'veunloaded it. "

The face of the man in black was white with fury. His gimlet eyes hadnarrowed to slits, and his mouth was distorted with rage. It was theface of a killer--a murderer without conscience or pity. 

"I'll get yuh for this, Wolf!" he bellowed. "Yuh'll find out howstrong I am here. This country isn't big enough to hold us both, blastyuh! When our trails meet again, take care!"

The Kid raised one eyebrow. "I always do take care, " he drawled. "Andwhile I'm heah in Skull County, yo'd bettah keep yo' dirty work undahcovah. Adios!"

And humming musically under his breath, The Kid strolled toward thehitch rack where he had left his horse. 

CHAPTER XVII

POT SHOTS

There was an old mission at the outskirts of the town of Skull, established many years before there were any other buildings in thevicinity. The Spanish fathers had built it for the Indians, and itremained a sanctuary, in spite of the roughness and badness of the newcow town. 

Early on the morning after Kid Wolf's arrival in the town, the oldpadre was astonished to find a package of money inside his door. Itwas addressed simply: "For the poor. " It was a windfall and amuch-needed addition to the mission's meager finances. 

The padre considered it a gift from Heaven, and where it had come fromremained a mystery. The package contained two thousand dollars. Needless to say, it was Kid Wolf's gift, and the money had been takenfrom the town's dishonest gamblers. 

The Texan remained several days in Skull. He was in no hurry, and thetown interested him. Although he heard threats, he was left alone. Hesaw no more of Gentleman John, nor did he see Blacksnake McCoy. Theyhad disappeared from town, probably on evil business of their own. 

A note thrust under The Kid's door at the hotel two mornings laterthreatened him and advised him to leave the country. The Texan, however, paid no attention to the warning. 

The next day, he scouted about the country, sizing up the cattlesituation. The honest cattlemen, he found, were very much in theminority. By force, murder, and illegal methods, Gentleman John hadobtained most of the land and practically all of the vast cattle herdsthat roamed the rich rangelands surrounding the town on all sides. Yetto most of the honest element, Gentleman John's true colors were notknown. He shielded himself, hiring others to do his unclean work. There was no law as yet in the county. Gentleman John had managed tokeep it out. And even if there had been, it was doubtful if his crimescould be pinned to him, for he had covered his tracks well. Manythought him honest. Only The Kid's keen mind could sense almostimmediately what was going on. 

The country stretching out from Skull was wild and beautiful. It wasan unsettled land, and the trails that led into it were faint anddifficult to follow. 

One morning, Kid Wolf saddled Blizzard and rode into the southwesttoward the purple mountains tipped with snow. It was a beautiful day, cool and crisp. The tang of the air in that high altitude was sharpand invigorating. The big white horse swung into a joyous lope, andthe Texan hummed a Southern melody. 

Crossing a wide stretch of plain, they mounted a rise, and thecharacter of the country changed. The smell of sage gave way to thepenetrating odor of small pine, as they climbed into the brokenfoothills that led, in a series of steps, toward the jagged peaks. Splashing through a little creek of pure, cold water, The Kid turnedBlizzard's head up a pass between two ridges of piñon-covered buttes. 

"A big herd's passed this way, " The Kid muttered, "and lately, too. "

They climbed steadily onward, while the Texan searched the trail withkeen eyes that missed nothing. Suddenly he drew up his horse. Blizzard had shied at something lying prone ahead of them, and TheKid's eyes had seen it at the same instant. 

Stretched out on the sandy ground, The Kid saw, when he urged his horsecloser, was the body of a man, face down and arms flung out. A blotchof red on the blue of the shirt told the significant story--a bullethad got in its deadly work. Dismounting, the Texan found that the manwas dead and had met with his wound probably twenty-four hours before. There was nothing with which to identify the body. 

"Seems to me, Blizzahd, " Kid Wolf mused, "that Gentleman John is adeepah-dyed villain than we even thought. "

He continued on up the pass, eyes and ears open. The white horse tookthe climb as if it had been level ground, his hoofs ringing a brisktattoo against the stones. 

Nobody was in sight. The land stretched out on all sides--a vastlonesomeness of rolling green and red, broken here and there bytowering rocks, grotesque in shape and twisted by erosion into athousand fanciful sculptures. But at the bottom of a dry wash, KidWolf received a surprise. 

_Br-r-reee! Ping!_ A bullet breezed by his head, droning like ahornet, and glanced sullenly against a flat rock. Immediatelyafterward, The Kid heard the sharp bark of a . 45. He knew by the soundof the bullet and by the elapsed time between it and the sound of thegun that he was within dangerous range. Crouching low in his saddle, he wheeled Blizzard--already turned half around in mid-air--and cut upthe arroyo at a hot gallop. 

Flinging himself from his horse when he reached shelter, he touchedBlizzard lightly on the neck. The wise animal knew what that meant. Without slackening its pace, it continued onward, its hoofs drumming arapid _clip-clop_, while its master was running in another directionwith his head low. 

Breaking up the ambush was easy. The Kid took advantage of every bitof cover and went directly toward the sounds of the shots, for gunswere still barking. The men, whoever they were, were shooting in thedirection of the riderless horse. Squirming through a little piñonthicket, Kid Wolf saw three men stationed behind a low ledge of redsandstone. The guns of the trio were still curling blue smoke. 

"Will yo' kindly stick up yo' hands, gentlemen, " the Texan drawled, "while yo're explainin'?"

The three whirled about--to find themselves staring into the two deadlyblack muzzles of The Kid's twin six-shooters. Automatically theythrust their arms aloft. 

"Well, I guess yuh got us! Go ahead and shoot, yuh killer!"

Kid Wolf looked at the speaker in surprise. He was a little younger, perhaps, than the Texan himself--a slim, red-headed youth with a wide, determined mouth. The blue eyes, snapping angrily now, seemed frankand open. Then the Texan's eyes traveled to the youth's twocompanions. Both were older men, typical cow-punchers, rough andready, and yet hardly of the same type of the men The Kid had noticedin the Longhorn Saloon in Skull. 

"I'm not sure that I even want to shoot. " The Kid smiled slowly. "Maybe yo'd like to explain why yo' were tryin' to shoot me. "

"I guess we won't need to explain that, " snapped the redhead. "Yuhknow as well as we do that yo're one o' Blacksnake's thievin' gunmen!"

"What makes yo' think so?" the Texan laughed. 

The other opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. He was looking TheKid up and down. 

"Come to think about it, " he muttered, "we've never seen you before. And yuh don't look like one o' that rustler gang. "

"Take my word fo' it, " said the Texan earnestly, "I'm not. I thoughtyo' were Blacksnake and his gang myself. " He reholstered his guns. "Put yo' hands down, " he said, as he came toward them, "and we'll talkthis thing ovah. "

Reassured, the trio did so with sighs of relief. A few questions byeach helped to clear things up. The Kid told them who he was, and inreturn he was told that the three were members of the Diamond D outfit. 

"It's just half an outfit now, " said the red-haired youth bitterly. "They've run off our north herd. Yuh see, Mr. Wolf----"

"Just call me 'Kid, '" smiled the Texan, "fo' I think we'll be friends. "

"I hope so, " said the other, flashing him a grateful look. "Well, I'm'Red' Morton. My brother and me own the Diamond D, and we've shorebeen havin' one hot time. Guess we're plumb beat. "

"Wheah's yo' brother now?"

"He's at the sod house with our south herd. These two men are the onlypunchers left me--'Lefty' Warren and Mike Train. There was one more. The rustlers shot him. " Red Morton's eyes gleamed fiercely. 

"Yo' know who the rustlers were?"

"Blacksnake McCoy's gang. He's been causin' us a lot o' trouble. Until now, that bunch have just been runnin' a smooth iron and swingin'their loops wide. But yesterday they drove off every steer. Half ofall the longhorns on the Diamond D!" Red's lips tightened grimly. 

"Excuse us, " spoke up one of the cowboys, Lefty Warren, "for takin' yuhfer one o' them cutthroats, but we was b'ilin' mad. It's a good thingfer us yuh wasn't. Yuh shore slipped in on us slick as a whistle. "

"I'm hopin' my bud, Joe, don't think it was my fault that Blacksnakegot away with the herd, " groaned the red-haired youth. "Reckon we'llhave to sell out now. "

"That's it, " agreed the eldest of the trio--the man called Mike Train. "The Diamond D would be on Easy Street now, if we had the cattle back. The mortgage----"

"Who would yo' sell to?" asked The Kid quietly. 

"Gentleman John, the cattle king, " explained Red Morton. "He told mybrother some time ago that he'd like to buy it, if the price was low. Joe refused then, but reckon it'll be different now. "

Kid Wolf raised his brows slightly. 

"Is this--ah--Gentleman John the right sort of hombre?" he drawled. 

"Why, I guess so, " said Red in surprise. "He's one o' the biggestcattlemen in three States. "

The Texan was silent for a moment, then he smiled. 

"Wheah are yo' headed fo' now?" he asked. 

"Why, we're on the trail of the stolen herd, " Red replied, "and weintend to stop at the sod house and tell my brother, Joe, what'shappened--that is, if he don't already know. Maybe he's had trouble, himself. "

"If we find any of that Blacksnake gang, we'll fight, " Lefty Warrenspoke up. "The odds are mighty bad against us, but they got one o' thebest punchers in the valley when they drilled Sam Whiteman. "

"I'm interested, " Kid Wolf told them. "Do yo' mind if I throw in withyo'?"

"Do we mind?" repeated Red joyously. "Say, it would shore be great!And--well, Joe and I will try and make it right with yuh. "

"Nevah mind that, " the Texan murmured. "Just considah yo' troublesmine, too. And I'm downright curious to know what's happened to yo'steers. Let's go!" He whistled for Blizzard. 

For several hours the quartet of horsemen pressed southward, followingthe trail left by the stolen beef herd. The four quickly becamefriends. Kid Wolf liked them all from the first, and the Diamond D menwere overjoyed to have him enlisted in their cause. He learned thatRed Morton and his older brother, Joe, had worked hard to make theDiamond D a success. The ranch had been left them by their father afew years before, heavily burdened with debt. Now, until thecatastrophe of the day before, they were at the point of clearing it. Evidently the brothers did not know of Gentleman John's criminalmethods, and the Texan said nothing. He was waiting for better proof. 

"The ranch is in Joe's name, " said Red proudly, "but we're partners. He could sell it to Gentleman John, all right, without my consent, buthe wouldn't. I'm not quite twenty-one, but I'm a man, and Joe knowsit. "

"Will yo' have to sell the Diamond D now?" the Texan asked. 

"I hope not. Joe and two riders still have the south herd--at least, they have if nothin's happened. It might pull us through. Eighthundred head. "

After a time, they swung off the trail they had been following, inorder to reach the sod house. Here Red expected to find his brotherand the other two Diamond D riders. 

"With them, that'll make seven of us, " young Morton said. "Then we canshow that Blacksnake gang a fight that is a fight! There's over adozen of 'em, though I think Lefty here wounded one, just afterWhiteman was killed. We saw red stains on the sagebrush for a hundredyards along the cattle trail. "

Mounting a long rise, they began to descend again. A fertile valleystretched out beneath them, green with grass and watered by the bluestlittle stream that Kid Wolf had ever seen. It was a lovely spot; itwas small wonder that Gentleman John wished to add the Diamond D to hisholdings. 

"That's Blue-bottle Creek, " announced Red Morton. "Queer that we don'tsee any cattle. There's not a steer in sight. They ought to befeedin' through here. "

There was no sign of anything moving throughout all the basin, eitherhuman or cattle. The silence was unbroken, save for the steadydrumming of the little party's pony hoofs. 

"There's the sod house--over there in those trees, " said Red, afteranother mile. 

He was worried. The two other Diamond D men, too, were showing signsof nervousness. Had the south herd gone the way of the other?

They neared the sod house--a structure crudely built of layers ofearth. It had one door and one window, and near it was acorral--empty. There was no sign of any one about, and there was noreply to Red's eager shout. 

"Oh, Joe!" he hailed. 

His face was a shade paler, as he quickly swung himself out of hissaddle. He entered the sod house at a half run. 

"Is anything wrong?" Train shouted. 

Then they heard Red Morton cry out in grief and horror. Withoutwaiting for anything more, The Kid and the two Diamond D ridersdismounted and raced toward the sod hut. None of them was prepared forthe terrible thing they found there. 

CHAPTER XVIII

ON BLACKSNAKE'S TRAIL

At first, they could see little, for not much light filtered throughthe small door and window. Then details of the interior began to growmore distinct in the hut's one room. A tarp had been tacked over thedirt ceiling to keep scorpions and centipedes from dropping down on thebunks below. There was only a little furniture, and that of a crudesort. Some of it was smashed, as if in a scuffle. 

These things, however, were not noticed until later. What the visitorssaw was the form of a man with legs and arms outstretched at queerangles. 

Kid Wolf was accustomed to horrible sights, but he remembered this oneever afterward. The scene was stamped on his mind like a fragment ofsome wild nightmare. 

The body was that of a man a few years older than Red Morton, and thefeatures, though set and twisted, were the same. A rope had been tiedto one wrist and fastened to one wall; another rope had been knottedabout his other wrist and secured to the opposite side of the hut. Thelegs had been served the same way at the ankles. On the body of thesuspended figure rocks had been piled. They were of many sizes, varying from a few pounds to several hundred. It was easy to see howthe unhappy man had met his end--by slow torture. One by one, therocks had been placed on his chest and middle, the combined weight ofthem first slowly pulling his limbs from their sockets and thencrushing out the life that remained. 

Red, after his first outcry of agony, took it bravely. The Kid threwhis arm sympathetically around the youth's shoulders and drew him away, while the others cut the ropes that held the victim of the rustlergang's cruelty. In a few minutes, Red got a grip on himself and couldtalk in a steady voice. 

"Reckon I'm alone now, Kid, " he blurted. "Joe was all I had--and theygot him! I swear I'll bring those hounds to justice, or die a-tryin'!"

"Yo're not alone, Red, " said the Texan grimly. "I'm takin' a hand inthis game. "

Near the body they found a piece of paper--a significant document, forit explained the motive for the crime. Kid Wolf read it andunderstood. It was written in straggling handwriting:

I, Joe Morton, do hereby sell and turn over all interest in the DiamondD Ranch property, for value received. My signature is below, andtestifies that I have sold said ranch to Gentleman John, of Skull, NewMexico. 

There was, however, no signature at the space left at the bottom of thepaper. Joe Morton had died game!

"He refused to sign, " said The Kid quietly, "and that means that yo'rethe lawful heir to the Diamond D. Yo' have a man's job to do now, Red. "

"But I don't savvy this, " burst out the red-haired youth. "Surely thisGentleman John isn't----"

"He's the man behind it all, mah boy, " the Texan told him. And in afew words, he related how he had been approached by the self-styledcattle king, and something of his shady dealings. "He wanted to buyme, " he concluded, "not knowin' that I had nevah abused the powah ofthe Colt fo' mah own gain. Blacksnake is his chief gunman, actin' byGentleman John's ordahs. "

"Where's the other men--the two riders on duty with Joe?" Lefty Warrenwanted to know. 

It did not take much of a search to find them. One had fallen near thelittle corral, shot through the heart. The other lay a few hundredyards away, at the river bank. He, too, was dead. 

"Mo' murdah, " snapped the Texan grimly. "Well, we must make ouahplans. "

In this sudden crisis, the other three left most of the planning to KidWolf himself. First of all, the bodies were buried. Rocks were piledon the hastily made graves to keep the coyotes out, and they were readyto go again. 

The Texan decided to follow the trails left by the stolen cattle, forboth herds were gone now, driven off the Diamond D range. Failing intheir attempt to get Joe Morton's signature, the outlaws had evidentlydecided to take what they could get. 

There was one big reason why Gentleman John wished to get his hands onthe Diamond D. Although land was plentiful in that early day, Red'sfather had obtained a land grant from a Spanish governor--a grant thatstill held good and kept other herds from the rich grazing land andample water along Blue-bottle Creek. 

As they started down the trail again toward the broken, mountainouscountry to the southwest, The Kid sent Red a quick glance. 

"Are yo' all right, son?" he asked. 

"Fine, " said young Morton, now sole owner of the Diamond D. 

The Texan was glad to see that he had braced himself. Like hisbrother, Red was a man. 

"We'll soon overtake 'em, " old Mike Train muttered, savagely twirlingthe cylinder of his ancient . 45. "Blacksnake's gang can't make fasttime with those steers. He's probably drivin' 'em to Gentleman John'sheadquarters at Agua Frio. "

"Why, " asked Kid Wolf slowly, "do they call that hombre 'Blacksnake'?"

"Because he carries one with him--that's how he got his name, " spoke upLefty Warren. "He's a whipper. He's beaten more'n one Mex to deathwith it, and they say a white man or two. He can handle a blacksnakelike a demon. "

Kid Wolf smiled grimly. To have Blacksnake McCoy for an enemy was byno means a pleasant thing to think about, especially when the desperadowas backed by all the power that his employer--GentlemanJohn--possessed. And yet The Kid was afraid of neither of them. 

"It's shore great of yuh to help us this way, " Red told him. "But I'mafraid we haven't a chance. If Gentleman John is behind all this, we're buckin' mighty big odds. "

"I like a game like that, " said The Kid. "Unlike pokah, it's perfectlylegitimate to scratch the aces with yo' fingah nail. "

They were soon off the limits of the Diamond D and on the CasasAmarillas--a ranch owned by Gentleman John and taking its Spanish namefrom two yellow houses of adobe several miles distant. They sawscattered cattle branded with a Lazy J--one of Gentleman John's manybrands--but discovered no stragglers from the stolen Morton herds. 

Following the trail was easy, and they struck a hot pace down throughand out of the grassy valley, climbing through a pass and up on arolling mesa dotted with thirsty-looking sage. For two full hours theyrode, while the sun crept toward the west. Their horses were beginningto tire. A line of cedar-sprinkled hills loomed up ahead of them, butby keeping to the plateau they could circle them. 

"I think we'd bettah keep to the mesa, " The Kid advised. 

"But we're about on 'em, " put in Red. "They'll see us comin', milesaway. If we cut down through those hills, we'll gain time, too, andkeep hid. "

"It's a fine place to be trapped in, " mused the Texan. "Well, Red, yo'know this country, an' I don't, so use yo' own judgment. "

Against the far horizon they could make out a faint yellow haze--dustfrom the trampling hoofs of many cattle. They could cut off a fullmile by riding down into the cedars, and Red decided to do so. The Kidwas dubious, but said nothing more. If Blacksnake had a rear guard ofany kind, they might have been sighted. In that case, they would runinto trouble--ambushed trouble. 

Kid Wolf rode in the lead, the three others drumming along behind him. He was grimly wary. A chill gust of wind hit them, as they entered thedepths of the notch between the hills. The straggling growth of cedarsand stumpy evergreens loomed up ahead of them, and they crashedthrough. For several hundred yards they tore their way and found theirpace slowed by the difficult going. The trees began to thin out. Thenthey heard a spring tinkling down among the red rocks, and the cedarsbegan to thicken again, as the little canyon narrowed and climbedsteeply. 

"Stick 'em up!"

Kid Wolf fired at the sound of the voice while the loud shout was stillechoing. His double draw was lightning fast. Before the others knewwhat was taking place, his two guns had flashed. At the dull boom ofthe twin explosions, a crashing sound was heard in the brush, as ifsomething was wildly threshing about. Then bullets began to rip andsmash their way through the undergrowth. Cedar twigs flew. 

With a yell, Mike Train slumped down over his saddle pommel and rolledoff his horse. At the same instant, the two others--Lefty Warren andRed Morton--reached for their guns. The thing had happened so quicklythat until now they had not thought of drawing their weapons. 

But Kid Wolf stopped them. 

"Don't pull 'em, boys!" he cried. And at the same time, he droppedboth his own guns. It was a surprising thing for the Texan to do, buthis mind had worked quickly. His sharp eyes had taken in thesituation. They were covered, and from all sides. His first quickshots had brought one man down, but there were at least six others, andall were behind shelter and had a deadly drop. If The Kid had beenalone, he would, no doubt, have shot it out there and then, using hisown peculiar tactics. But he had the others to think of. If theytouched their guns, they would be killed instantly. 

The Texan's doubts had been well founded. They should have kept to themesa top. They had jumped into a trap. Surrender was the only thingto do now, for while there was life, there was hope. The Kid hadslipped from tight situations before. 

Lefty Warren, Red Morton, and The Kid elevated their hands. A lowlaugh came from behind the cedar thicket, and a group of desperadoes onfoot slipped through, holding drawn and leveled Colts. In the lead wasBlacksnake McCoy. His eyes fell on Kid Wolf and widened with surprise. Then his teeth showed through his close-cropped beard in a snarl ofhate. 

"Well, if it ain't the gamblin' Cotton-picker!" he ejaculated. "Ididn't know I was goin' to have such luck as this! Keep yore mitts up, the three of yuh. Pedro, collect their guns!"

A grinning desperado disarmed Lefty and Red and picked up The Kid's twoColts. 

"It'd 'a' been better fer yuh if yuh'd shot it out, " sneeredBlacksnake, "because Gentleman John will have somethin' in store feryuh that yuh won't like. Wait till he sets eyes on yuh, Cotton-picker!Boilin' alive will seem like a picnic! I knew we'd get yuh sooner orlater, if yuh kept stickin' yore nose in other folks' business. "

"Blacksnake, " said The Kid softly, "yo're a cheap, fo'-flushin' bully. "

Blacksnake's evil eyes went hard. His face reddened with anger, thenpaled. He was trembling with fury and deadly hate. He turned to hismen. 

"Take the others up to the Yellow Houses and wait for me there, " herasped. "Pedro, my whip's on my pony; bring it to me. I'm havin' thisout with Cotton-picker, alone! When I'm through with him, I'll bringhim on up. One of yuh ride up to the herd and tell Slim to letGentleman John know we've got 'em. He'll finish with Cotton-pickerwhen I'm done with him. Savvy?"

A blacksnake was brought to McCoy, and the others roughly surroundedLefty and Red, herding them through the timber and out of sight. 

"Take the skin offn him, Black!" an outlaw yelled back. 

The others laughed. And then Kid Wolf and his captor were left alone. 

CHAPTER XIX

THE FANG OF THE WOLF

"Well, yuh'd better get ready to take yore medicine, " sneered theoutlaw, his voice shaking with rage. "I'm goin' to make yuh crawl onyore hands and knees, Cotton-picker!"

He holstered his gun, watching Kid Wolf cunningly, and drew back alittle to give himself leeway with his whip. Then he began to roll uphis sleeve. 

"I'll make yuh beg, Cotton-picker, " he taunted insultingly, as he baredhis brawny right arm. "And if yuh run, I'll shoot--not to kill; that'dbe too easy. I'll blow yore legs in two!"

Kid Wolf had been pulled from his horse by the others, and the faithfulsnow-white animal had been taken along up the pass with the twoprisoners. There seemed no way of escape. Blacksnake had him, and thegang leader grinned confidently. 

"Yo're a bully, sah, " drawled the Texan. It was as if he weredeliberately trying to get his enemy aroused to white-hot fury. 

The words seemed to have that effect. With a loud oath, Blacksnakecracked his whip like a pistol shot. The whip was as strong and toughas a bull whip, with a loaded stock and a long, braided lash, thick inthe middle, like a snake. The outlaw had aimed for The Kid's thigh, and he was an expert with it. The lash landed with such cutting forcethat it cut through the Texan's clothing and tore into his flesh. 

"Now take off yore shirt!" Blacksnake bellowed. "I'm goin' to flay yuhalive! Take it off!"

There was no sign of pain in Kid Wolf's face. He was still smilingagreeably. Blacksnake McCoy did not know what was coming. The Texanwas not entirely disarmed. True, his Colts had been taken away, and hewas apparently helpless. The Kid, however, had his hole card that wasalways in the deck. This was his keen bowie knife, which more thanonce had saved his life. Cleverly concealed in its sheath sewn downthe back of his shirt collar, it had been overlooked in the outlaws'quick search. Pretending to remove his shirt, The Kid's right handwent to his throat and closed on the handle of the knife. 

Blacksnake, showing his teeth in a laugh of hate, stood a half dozenfeet away from him, swinging his cruel whip slowly from side to side, waiting. He was holding the whipstock in his right hand, and thatfavored the Texan. For in order to draw the gun that swung at his hip, Blacksnake would first have to drop his implement of torture. 

"Heah's wheah yo' get it!" snapped The Kid crisply. 

Blacksnake's eyes bulged with sudden, startled terror, for he had aglimpse of the shining blade for one brief instant. His whip handmoved toward the butt of his gun. But he was too late. Kid Wolf coulddraw and throw his bowie as swiftly as he could pull his firearms. Itflashed through the air--a streak of dazzling light! The fang of thewolf was striking!

_Ping!_ The steel tore its way through the outlaw's right wrist. TheTexan's throw had been as true as a rifle bead. Blacksnake yelled andtried to reach for his Colt with his left hand. 

Then The Kid leaped in. Blacksnake was still squirming about andclawing for his . 45 when the Texan's first blow landed. Blacksnake wasburly, powerful. He weighed well over two hundred, and his shoulderswere as broad as a gorilla's. But his bullet head went back with ajerk, as the Texan's hard fist thudded heavily on his cheek bone. 

In the quick scuffle, the Big Colt slipped from Blacksnake's holsterand fell to the ground. With all his fury now, the outlaw was lashingterrific, belting swings at Kid Wolf's head. The Texan dodged, elusiveas a shadow. He leaped in, bored with his right and jolted Blacksnakefrom top to toe with a smashing left. The big outlaw staggered, thenjumped back and tried to scoop up his gun. His right hand washelpless, however, and his left clumsy. His fingers missed it, and TheKid hit him again, bringing Blacksnake to his knees, groggy-headed andbleary-eyed. His hand closed over the whip. The stock was heavilyloaded with lead, and it was a terrible weapon when held reversed. Oneblow from it could crush a skull like an eggshell. 

"I'm a-goin' to brain yuh, Cotton-picker!" Blacksnake grated furiously. 

He reeled to his feet, shook his head to get his tangled hair out ofhis eyes and came in, whip swung back! Kid Wolf had no time to duckdown for the gun. The heavy stock was humming through the air in aswish of death!

_Smash!_ Blacksnake rocked on his feet. His teeth had come togetherwith a click. He wabbled, swayed. His whip fell from his relaxedfingers. The Kid's footwork had been as swift and cunning as amountain cat's! He had stepped aside, rocked his body in a pivot fromthe hips and landed a knock-out punch full on the point of thebig-chested outlaw's jaw! With a grunt, Blacksnake went down, first tohis knees, and then face thudding the ground. He landed with suchforce that he plowed the sand with his nose like a rooting hog. 

Taking a deep breath, Kid Wolf walked over and picked up Blacksnake's. 45. Then he turned the outlaw face up, none too gently, by jerkinghis tangled hair. "All right. Snap out of it, " he drawled. 

Blacksnake was out for a full two minutes. Gradually consciousnessbegan to show on his ugly, bruised face. He stared at the Texan, blinking his eyes in bewilderment. 

"Blast yuh!" he said thickly, when he could speak. "Guess yuh got me, Cotton-picker. I don't know yet how yuh done it. "

He tried to seize the gun, but The Kid was too quick for him. 

"None o' that, " he drawled. "Get up! Yo're takin' me to the othahs. Move pronto to the Yellow Houses!"

A cunning look mingled with the hate in Blacksnake's swollen eyes. 

"They'll kill yuh, " he sneered. "Yuh ain't out o' this yet, blast yuh!My men will pull yuh to pieces. "

"I'm thinkin' they won't. " The Texan smiled. "If they do, it won't bevery healthy fo' yo'. Now listen to what I say. "

Half an hour later, Kid Wolf strolled up the hill to the Yellow Houses, arm in arm with his enemy--Blacksnake McCoy!

The outlaw was swearing under his breath. Kid Wolf was chuckling. Forhe had his hand under Blacksnake's vest, and that hand held a . 45! Inhis left hand, the outlaw carried his whip. The other, wounded, was inhis trousers pocket. The Texan had ordered him to keep it there, outof sight. 

The two adobes, crumbling to ruins, dated from the Spaniards. For manyyears they had been used only as occasional stopping places for passingriders. It was here that Blacksnake had ordered Red Morton and LeftyWarren taken. 

Kid Wolf was free now, and had he wished, he could have made hisescape. That thought, however, did not enter the Texan's mind. Hemust rescue his friends if possible. 

"Walk with me as if nothing had happened, " he told Blacksnake softly. "If they suspect anything befo' I'm ready fo' 'em to know, you'll besorry. "

With the cold end of the six-gun pressing his ribs inside his shirt, the outlaw dared not disobey. 

The sun had set, and twilight was deepening. The faint dust haze onthe far horizon had disappeared. That meant that the stolen Diamond Dherd had been driven on. Blacksnake had been staying some distance inthe rear to keep off any possible pursuit. Kid Wolf had five otheroutlaws to contend with--no, four. For Blacksnake had sent one of themahead with the herd. 

Odds meant nothing, however, to the Texan. He knew that surprise andquick action always counted more than numbers. Everything now dependedon boldness. As they neared the two adobes, he pretended to reel andstagger close against Blacksnake for support, as if he had been beatenuntil he could hardly stand. This, too, allowed him to keep the gunagainst the outlaw's side without arousing suspicion. 

At tile edge of the little cleared space surrounding the two adobes, one of the bandits was saddling a horse. The others seemed to beinside with the prisoners. 

"Hello, Black!" the outlaw yelled. "Did yuh tear the hide offn him?From his looks, I reckon yuh did. "

"Tell him to go inside, " murmured Kid Wolf softly, "and be careful howyo' tell him. "

Blacksnake opened his lips to shout a warning, but felt the touch ofsteel against his ribs and quickly changed his mind. 

"Go into the dobe with the others, " he commanded gruffly. 

The walls of one of the mud huts had crumbled utterly. Only one ofthem was habitable, and it was to this one that the outlaw went, withBlacksnake and Kid Wolf following close behind. A yell greetedBlacksnake's arrival with his supposed prisoner. 

"I thought yuh'd have to carry him back, Black, or drag him by theheels, " one voice shouted. "Yuh must've got tired. "

The time for action was at hand! The Kid and the outlaw stood framedfor a brief second in the doorway. The Texan's eyes swept the room. The four outlaws were lazing comfortably about the ruined interior. Two were playing cards, and two were engaged in taking a drink from awhisky flask, one of these being the man Blacksnake had sent inside. The two prisoners--Lefty Warren and young Morton--were securely boundin lariat rope, sitting against one wall. The Kid saw their eyes lightup as they recognized him. Evidently they had not expected to see himagain alive. Kid Wolf jerked the revolver from Blacksnake's side, tripped him suddenly and sent him headlong into the room. 

"Up with yo' hands!" the Texan sang out. 

The outlaws were taken entirely by surprise. Only Blacksnake had knownwhat was coming, and he was unarmed. Kid Wolf was no longer reelingand staggering. The desperadoes looked up to stare into the sinistermuzzle of a . 45!

"Shoot him to pieces!" Blacksnake yelled, picking himself up on allfours and whirling to make a jump for The Kid's ankles. 

The Texan dodged to one side, his gun sweeping the room. A jet flamedarted from the barrel, and there was a crash of broken glass. He hadfired at the liquor flask that one of the outlaws still held at hislips. 

"That's a remindah, " he said crisply. "Put up yo' hands!"

Guns blazed suddenly. Two of the bandits had reached for their weaponsat the same moment. The walls of the adobe shook under blendedexplosions, and powder smoke drifted down like a curtain, turning thefigures of the men into drifting shadows. 

The firing was soon over. The Kid's gun had roared a swift tattoo ofhammering shots. Dust flew from the wall near his head, but he hadspoiled the aim of both outlaws by fast, hair-trigger shooting. Onesank against a broken-down bunk in one corner, reamed through the upperright arm and chest. The other fired again, but his gun hand wasdangling, and he missed by a foot. Playing cards were scattered, asthe other pair of bandits jumped up with their hands over their heads. 

"We got enough!" they yelped. "Don't shoot!"

Kid Wolf lashed out at Blacksnake, who was rushing him again. Theshort, powerful blow to the jaw sent the leader down for good. Herolled over, stunned. 

"_Bueno. _" The Texan smiled. "Keep yo' hands right theah, please, caballeros. "

Before the powder fumes had cleared away, he had liberated Lefty andRed with quick strokes of his bowie. 

"I reckon we've got the uppah hand now, boys. " He smiled. "Let's tryand keep it. Take their guns, Red. "

The two Diamond D men had been as surprised as the outlaws had been. They had watched the gun fight fearfully and hopefully, and it was anenthusiastic pair that shook off their severed bonds to clap The Kidacross the back. There was no time for conversation now, however, andthey busied themselves with disarming their five prisoners and bindingthem with rope. 

"Gee, Kid!" Red whistled. "We thought we were done, and when yuh camein and made sparks fly--whew!"

"Theah'll be moah spahks fly, I'm afraid, " the Texan drawled. "How'dyo' like to make some spahks fly yo'selves?"

The others showed their eagerness. The fighting fever was in theirveins, especially since the death of poor Mike Train. And now, withBlacksnake and half the outlaw gang captured, they felt that they had agood part of the battle won. Red tried to question Blacksnake abouthis brother's death, but the outlaw was stubborn and refused to talk. Had it not been for Kid Wolf, Red would have fallen on his enemy andbeaten him with his fists. And none of them could blame him. 

It was nearly dark, and they made quick plans The stolen herd was notfar ahead, and with it were not more than seven of Gentleman John'sriders. 

"We'll take those cattle away from 'em, " said Red fiercely, "and headthe steers back to the Diamond D!"

It was decided that the prisoners could be left where they were for thetime being, although Lefty Warren was for stringing them up there andthen. Kid Wolf shook his head at this suggestion, however, and theyarmed themselves, "borrowing" the guns of the Blacksnake gang. Thenthey mounted their horses and headed south through the deepening dusk. 

CHAPTER XX

BATTLE ON THE MESA

 "Oh, the cowboy sings so mournful on the Rio! To the dark night herd, so mournful and so sad, And I'd like to be in the moonlight on the Rio, Wheah good men are good, and bad men are bad!"

Kid Wolf sang the tune softly to the whispering wind, as the trioclimbed under a New Mexican moon to the top of a vast mesa. 

"Guess yuh'll find some plenty bad ones here in Skull County, eh, Kid?"laughed Red grimly. 

The Texan, brightly outlined on his beautiful horse in the moonlight, looked like a ghost on a moving white shadow. 

"Bad men, " mused Kid Wolf, "aren't so plentiful. Usually theah's somegood in the blackest. The men we're goin' to fight to-night, fo'instance, are probably just driftahs who've drifted the wrong way. ButGentleman John--well, he's one of the few really bad men I've met. He's really the one we want. "

The splendor of the night had a sobering effect on them. To bethinking of possible bloodshed in all that dream beauty seemedterrible. Yet it was necessary. It was a hard land. A man had to behis own law. And in Kid Wolf's case, he had to be the law for others, in a fight for the weak against the strong. 

"Listen!" cried Lefty suddenly. 

"And look!" whispered Red. "See those black dots against the sky overthere? And there's a camp fire, too. "

He was right. The glow of a fire reddened the horizon and the distantbawling of uneasy cattle could be heard on the night wind. 

The rustlers had made a camp on the mesa until the dawn. The big herdwas shifting, restless and milling. 

"A gun fight will stampede that herd, " observed Red. 

"Then, " said The Kid, "we'll be sure to stampede them in the rightdirection. Let's make a wide circle heah. "

They rode to the west, so that they would not be outlined against themoon. A full, curving mile slipped under their horses' pounding hoofsbefore The Kid gave the signal for the turn. He had the outlawsspotted, every one, and all depended now on his generalship. He knewthat the two riders on the far side of the night herd would be out ofit--for the time, at least. When the herd started their mad stampedetoward the Diamond D, they would have a high time just taking care ofthemselves. The others, five in number, would be dealt with first. 

The trio slipped closer as silently as moving phantoms. The Kid sawthree mounted men--two blocking their path, and the other on the farwing. Two other outlaws were at the fire. The Texan sniffed andsmiled. They were making coffee. 

"The two at the fiah make excellent tahgets, " murmured Kid Wolf. "I'llleave them to yo', Red. Lefty, start now and ride toward the fahridah. I'll try mah hand with these two. We'll count to fifty, Lefty;that'll give yo' time to get in range of yo' man. And then I'll givethe coyote yell, and we'll start ouah little row. Don't kill unlessnecessary, but if they show fight, shoot fast. "

Lefty grinned in the moonlight, roweled his horse lightly and drifted. Red and the Texan waited--ten seconds--twenty--thirty--forty----

"_Yipee yip-yipee-ee!_" The coyote cry rose, mournful and lonely. 

Then came a terrific rattle of gunfire, with the dull drum of horses'hoofs as a bass accompaniment. Red spurred his horse toward the fire, shouting his battle cry and throwing down on the two startled men wholeaped to their feet, reaching for their guns. Kid Wolf's great whitecharger burned the breeze at the two guards on the west wing. 

"Throw up yo' hands!" The Kid invited. 

But they didn't. Lead began to hum viciously. Bending low in theirsaddles, they drew and opened up a splattering fire. Their guns winkedred flashes. 

Lefty's man had shown fight, Lefty had bowled him over with a doubletrigger pull, and Lefty came racing back to help Red with the tworustlers at the camp fire. 

There were fireworks, and plenty of them! The herd, mad with fear, started moving away--a frantic rush that became a wild stampede. Theirplunging bodies milled about, and with uplifted tails and tossinghorns, they were on the run northward toward the home range--theDiamond D!

Although it was a case of shoot or be killed now, The Kid was aiming tocripple. A leaden slug burned a flesh wound just below his leftarmpit, as he opened up on the two rustlers. His gun hammers stuttereddown, throwing bullets on both sides of him, as he drove Blizzardbetween his two enemies at full tilt. One, raked with lead throughboth shoulders, thudded from his pony to the ground. The other leanedover his saddle and dropped his Colt. Two bullets, a few inches apart, had nipped his gun arm. 

The two rustlers at the fire were giving trouble. They had dashed outof the dangerous firelight and had opened up on Lefty and Red. KidWolf's heart gave a little jump. Red was down! Lefty and one of thebandits were engaged in a hand-to-hand scuffle, for Warren's horse hadbeen shot under him. The other outlaw had lifted his gun to finishRed, who was crawling along the ground. The range was a good fiftyyards, but Kid Wolf fired three times. The rustler standing over Reddropped. Lefty broke away from his man, just as The Kid rode up withlariat swinging. 

"Don't shoot!" the Texan sang out. "I've got him!"

The rope hummed through the air, spread out and tightened. The last ofthe outlaws went off his feet with a jerk. 

"One of 'em's runnin' away!" yelled Lefty, pointing to the man Kid Wolfhad shot through the arm. He was making a hot race in the direction ofSkull. 

"Let him go, " said The Kid. "We don't want him. See how bad Red'shurt. "

Outlined against the eastern sky were three riders now, far away andbecoming rapidly smaller. The two north riders were making theirget-away, also. The victory was complete. 

To their relief, Lefty and The Kid found that Red had received only aflesh wound above the knee. 

Kid Wolf tied the man he had caught with his lariat, then caught Red'shorse and one of the loose outlaw ponies for Lefty. 

"Now yo' ought to be able to ease those Diamond D cattle on home, " hedrawled. "I'll see how yo' are makin' it in the mo'ning. "

"Why, where are yuh goin'?" Red asked in surprise. 

"Goin' after Gentleman John. " Kid Wolf smiled. "How far is it to hisheadquartahs at Agua Frio?"

"About nine miles straight west, over the mesa. But say, yuh'd betterlet one of us go with yuh. "

The Texan shook his head. "I'm playin' a lone hand, Red. Yo' job isto line out yo' steers and get 'em back to the Diamond D feedin'grounds. Adios, amigos!"

And Kid Wolf, on his fleet white horse, swung off to the westward. 

Gentleman John sat up suddenly in his bed and opened his eyes. Themoon had gone down, and all was pitch dark. It was nearly morning. 

He had heard something--for Gentleman John was a light sleeper. Helistened intently, then sat on the edge of his bed to draw on hisboots. The sound came again from the direction of the patio. Had hisman, José, forgotten to lock the gate? Surely he had heard the chainrattling! Some horse, no doubt, or possibly a mule, had strayed intothe little courtyard. Perhaps it was some of his men returning. Andyet hardly that, for they would not dare disturb him at such an hour, but would go to their quarters behind the house until daybreak. Tiptoeing to the door, he put his ear to it. He heard faint noises, asif some one were moving about. 

"José!" Gentleman John called angrily. "What are yuh fumblin' at inthere? What's the matter? _Me oye usted?_"

There was no reply, and Gentleman John went to one corner of his room, scratched a sulphur match, and with its sputtering flame he lighted asmall lamp by his bedside. Then he slyly drew a derringer from underhis pillow. Again he went to the door, putting his hand on the knob. 

"José! Come here!" he cried, with an oath. 

The door swung open, and the lamplight shone on a human face--a facethat was not José's, but a stern white one with glinting blue eyes!

"José can't come, " said a voice in a soft drawl. "He's tied up. Butif I will do as well, I am at yo' service, sah!"

The color fled from Gentleman John's amazed face. 

"Kid Wolf!" he almost screamed, and at the words he whirled up hisblack and ugly double-barreled pistol!

_Span-ng-g-g-g! Br-r-rang!_ Both barrels of the derringer exploded intwo quick roars. The leaden balls, however, went wild. A steel handhad closed lightning-swift on Gentleman John's right wrist. 

"Be careful, " the Texan mocked. "Yo' almost put out the lamp. "

A terrific wrench made the bones pop in the cattle king's hand, andwith a yell of pain he let go. Kid Wolf took the derringer, empty now, and tossed it contemptuously to one side. 

"I'm ashamed of yo', " he drawled, with a slow smile. "Yo' ought toknow bettah than to use a toy like that. Sit down on the bed, sah. Ihave a few things to say to yo'. "

In his left hand The Kid held a big Colt . 45. Gentleman John obeyed. 

"My men will kill yuh fer this!" he raged. 

"Yo' haven't any men, sah. They're done. And now yo' are done. " KidWolf rolled a cigarette and lighted it over the lamp chimney. "Gentleman John, " he drawled, "whoevah named yo' suah had a sense ofhumah. Yo' are a murderah, and a cowardly one, because yo' have othahsdo yo' dirty work. "

"Kill me and get it over!" jerked Gentleman John. 

"Really, yo' shouldn't judge me by what yo' would do yo'self undah thecircumstances, " said The Kid mildly. "I'm not heah to kill yo'. I'mheah to take yo' back to Skull fo' trial and punishment. "

"Fer trial!" repeated the cattle king. "Why, there ain't any law----"

"I hope yo' don't think, " drawled the Texan, "that I wasted the time Ispent in town. Theah's a new cattlemen's organization theah--andthey've decided on drastic measures. "

"Yuh can't prove a thing!" Gentleman John shot at him loudly. 

The Kid raised his eyebrows. 

"No?" he said softly. "Yo' men slipped up a little and left evidencewhen they murdahed Joe Morton. They left the bill o' sale he wouldn'tsign! It'll go hahd with yo, but I'm givin' yo' one chance. "

Kid Wolf glanced around the room, and his eyes fell on paper and pennear the lamp. Placing his gun at his elbow, within easy reach, theTexan wrote steadily for a full minute. Then he turned and handed thecattle king the slip of paper. 

"Yo' through in Nueva Mex, Gentleman John, " The Kid drawled. "It'sjust a question of who falls heir to yo' holdin's. Read that ovah. "

The cattle king read it. It was brief, but to the point:

I, Gentleman John, do hereby give and hand over all my estates, land, holdings, and live stock to Red Morton, of Skull County, New Mexico, for consideration received. 

"Theah's a bill o' sale fo' yo' to sign. " The Texan smiled grimly. 

"If I sign under pressure, it won't hold good, " blustered GentlemanJohn. 

"Yo' won't be in this country to contest it, " Kid Wolf drawled. "Thiswon't in any way repay Red fo' the loss of his brothah, but it'ssomething. Yo' can do as yo' like about signin' it. "

"Then of course I won't sign!" snarled the other. 

"The honest cattlemen at Skull will probably hang yo', " reminded TheKid softly. 

Beads of sweat suddenly stood out on Gentleman John's forehead. Hisown guilty conscience told him that what The Kid said was true. Hisgimlet eyes grew big with fear. There was a long silence. 

"If--if I sign, yo'll let me go?" he quavered. 

The Texan's face grew hard and stern. 

"No, " he said. "I haven't any right to do that. Justice demands thatyo' face the ones yo' have wronged. And justice has always been myguidin' stah. I'm a soldier of misfohtune, fightin' fo' the undahdawg. I'm takin' yo' to Skull, sah. "

Gentleman John groaned in terror. All the blustering bravado had goneout of him. 

"I can't promise yo' yo' life, " Kid Wolf went on. "I can, howevah, recommend banishment instead of death, and mah word carries some weightin Skull, undah the new ordah of things. If yo' sign--thus doin' rightby Red Morton, whom yo' wronged--I'll do what I can to save yo' fromthe rope, but I can't promise that yo'll escape it. Are yo' signin'?"

Gentleman John moistened his lips feverishly, and his hand trembled ashe reached for the pen. 

"I'll sign, " he groaned. 

When he had scratched his signature, Kid Wolf took the paper, folded itcarefully and put it in his pocket. 

"_Bueno, _" he said softly. "Now get yo' hat and coat. I hate to robyo' of yo' sleep, but I have some othah prisonahs to round up to-night. "

And while binding Gentleman John's wrists, Kid Wolf hummed a new verseto his favorite tune, "On the Rio. "

CHAPTER XXI

APACHES

In the half light of the early morning, a stagecoach was rattling downa steep hill near the New Mexico-Arizona boundary line. The team ofsix bronchos fought against the weight of the lumbering vehicle behind, with stiff front legs threw themselves back against their harness. Thedriver, high on his box, sawed at the lines with his foot heavy on thecreaking brake. 

"Whoa!" he roared. "Easy, yuh cow-faced loco-eyed broncs! Steady now, or I'll beat the livin' tar outn yuh!"

The ponies seemed to disregard his bellowing abuse. They had heard itbefore, and knew that he didn't mean a word he said. They were almostat the foot of the hill now, and the thick white dust, kicked up inchoking spurts by the rumbling wheels, sifted down on the leatherymesquite and dagger plants below. 

"I don't like the looks o' that brush down there, " said the other manon the box. He was an express guard, and across his knees was asawed-off shotgun loaded with buckshot. 

"Perfect place fer an ambush, ain't it?" admitted the driver. "Well, if the Apaches do git us, I will say they'll make a nice haul. "

It was a dangerous time on the great Southwest frontier. Law had notyet come to that savage country of flaming desert and baking mountain. Even a worse peril than the operations of the renegades and bad men ofthe border was the threat of the Apaches. Behind any clump ofmesquites a body of these grim and terrible fighters of the arid landsmight lurk, eager for murder and robbery. And it was rumored that achief even more cruel than Geronimo, Cochise, or Mangus Colorado was attheir head. 

The men who operated the stage line knew the risk they were taking inthat unbroken country, but they were of the type that could look dangerin the face and laugh. The two steely-eyed men on the coach box, thisgray morning, were samples of the breed. 

Inside the vehicle were four passengers. Three of them were men pastmiddle life--miners and cattlemen. The third was a youth who addressedone of the older men as "father. " All were armed with six-guns, andall were bound for the valley of San Simon. 

The stage had reached the bottom of the hill now, and as the teamreached the level ground, the driver lined them out and settled back inhis seat with a satisfied grunt. About both sides of the trail at thispoint grew great thickets of brush--paloverde, the darker mesquites, and grotesque bunches of prickly pear. One of the bronchos suddenlyreared backward. 

"Steady, yuh ornery----" the driver began. 

He did not finish. There was a sharp twang! An arrow whistled out ofthe mesquites and buried itself in the side of the coach nearly to thefeather! As if this were a signal, a dozen rifles cracked out from thebrush. Bowstrings snapped, and a shower of arrows and lead hummedaround the heads of the frightened ponies. The driver cried out inpain as a bullet hit his leg. 

"Apaches!" the express guard yelled, throwing up his sawed-off shotgun. 

Two streaks of red fire darted through the haze of black powder smokeas he fired both barrels into the brush. The driver recovered himself, seized the reins and began to "pour leather" onto his fear-crazed team. With drawn guns, the four passengers in the coach waited for somethingto shoot at. They were soon to see plenty. 

The mesquites suddenly became alive with brown-skinned warriors, hideous with paint and screaming their hoarse death cry. Some weremounted, and others were on foot. All charged the coach. 

There must have been fifty in the swarm, and still they came! Thosethat were armed with rifles fired madly into the coach and at the team. Others rushed up and tried to seize the bridles. 

"It's all up with us!" the guard cried, drawing his big . 45 Colt. 

"But we ain't--goin' to sell out--cheap!" the driver panted. 

Escape was impossible now, for two of the horses went down, plungingand kicking at the harness in their death agony. The otheranimals--some wounded, and all of them mad with fright--overturned theold stagecoach. With a loud crash, the vehicle went over on its side!The driver and guard, teeth bared in grins of fury, raised theirsix-guns and prepared to sell their lives as dearly as possible. Thepassengers inside began firing desperately. 

The renegade Indians rushed. They nearly gained the wrecked stage, butnot quite. Before the straight shooting of the trapped whites, theyfell back to cover again. They did not believe in taking unnecessarychances. They had their victims where they wanted them, and it wouldbe only a question of time before they would be slaughtered. The fightbecame a siege. 

It was sixty against six--or, rather, it was sixty to five. For theredskins had increased the odds by shooting down the driver. Thesecond bullet he received drilled him through the heart. The guard, scrambling for shelter, joined the four men in the overturned coach. 

The Apaches, back in their refuge among the brush, began playing awaiting game. The fire, for a moment, ceased. 

"They'll rush again in a minute, " muttered the guard. "We'll do wellto stop 'em. Anyways, we won't hold out long. Just a question o'time. "

"Is there any chance o' help?" asked one of the men, while loading hisrevolver. 

He was a broad-shouldered, big-chested man of fifty--the father of theyouth who was now fighting beside him. 

The guard shook his head. "Afraid not. Unless one of us could getthrough to Lost Springs, six miles from here. Even if we could, Idon't think we'd get any help. There's not many livin' there, andthey're all scared of Apaches. Can't say I blame 'em. "

Bullets began to buzz again. The Indians were making another charge. A dense cloud of smoke hung over the ambushed coach. White powderspurts blossomed out from the brush, and the war cry came shrilly. Therush brought a line of half-naked warriors to within a few yards of thecoach. Then they fell back again, leaving four of their number dead orwounded on the sand. 

"So far, so good, " panted the guard. "But we can't do that forever!"

The youngest of the party, pale of face but determined, spoke upquickly:

"I'm willin' to take the chance o' gettin' to Lost Springs, " he said. 

"Yuh can't make it alive through that bunch o' devils, " the guard toldhim. 

"It's our only chance, " the other returned. "I'm goin' to try. Good-by, dad!"

It was a sad, heart-wrenching moment. There was small chance that thetwo would ever see each other alive again. But father and son shookhands and passed it over with a smile. 

"Good luck, son!"

And then the younger one slipped out of the coach and was gone. 

The others watched breathlessly. This movement had taken the savagesby surprise. The lad darted into the mesquites, running with head low. Bullets buzzed about him, kicking up clouds of dust at his feet. Arrows whistled after him. A yell went up from the Apaches. 

"Will he make it?" groaned the father, in an agonized voice. 

"Doubt it, " said the guard. 

The messenger sprinted at top speed through the brush, then dived downinto an arroyo. A score of warriors swarmed after him, firing shotafter shot from their rifles. Already the youth was out of arrow range. 

The guard shaded his eyes with his hand. "He's got a chance, anyways, "he decided. 

The town of Lost Springs--if such a tiny settlement could have beencalled a town--sprawled in a valley of cottonwoods, a scattering oflow-roofed adobes. To find such an oasis, after traveling theheat-tortured wilderness to the east or the west, was such relief tothe wayfarer that few missed stopping. 

There was but one public building in the place--a large building ofplastered earth which was at the same time a saloon, a store, agambling hall, and a meeting place for those who cared to partake ofits hospitality. 

The crude sign over the narrow door read: "Garvey's Place. " It wasenough. Garvey was the storekeeper, the master of the gamblers, andthe saloon owner. Lost Springs was a one-man town, and that man wasGil Garvey. His reputation was not of the best. Dark marks had beenchalked up against his record, and his past was shady, too. There werewhispers, too, of even worse things. It was, however, a land wherenobody asked questions. It was too dangerous. Garvey was accepted inLost Springs because he had power. 

It was a hot morning. The thermometer outside Garvey's door alreadyregistered one hundred and five. Heat devils chased one another acrossthe valley. But inside the building it was comparatively cool. Glasses tinkled on the long, smooth bar. The roulette wheel whirred, and even at that early hour, cards were being slapped down, faces up, at the stud-poker table. Including the customers at the bar, therewere perhaps a dozen men in the house besides Garvey himself. Garveywas tending bar, which was his habit until noon, when his bartenderrelieved him. 

Gil Garvey was a menacing figure of a man, massive of build andsinister of face. His jet-black eyebrows met in the center of hisscowling forehead, and under them gleamed eyes cold and dangerous. Athin wisp of a dark mustache contrasted with the quick gleam of hisstrong, white teeth. On the rare occasions when he laughed, his mirthwas like the hungry snarl of a wolf. 

The sprinkling of drinkers at the bar strolled over to watch the farogame, and Garvey, taking off his soiled apron, joined them, lighting ablack cigar. The ruler of Lost Springs moved lightly on his feet forso heavy a man. Around his waist was a gun belt from which swung asilver-mounted . 44 revolver in a beaded holster. 

Suddenly a slim figure reeled through the open door, and with groping, outstretched arms, staggered forward. 

"Apaches!" he choked. 

Nearly every one leaped to his feet, hand on gun. Some rushed to thedoor for a look outside. A score of questions were fired at thenewcomer. 

"They're attackin' the stage at the foot of the pass!" explained themessenger. 

There were sighs of relief at this bit of news, for at first they hadthought that the red warriors were about to enter the town. But sixmiles away! That was a different matter. 

"I'm Dave Robbins, " the youth went on desperately. "I've got to goback there with help. When I left, they were holdin' 'em off. Fiftyor sixty Indians!"

Some of the saloon customers began to murmur their sympathy. But itwas evident that they were none too eager to go to the aid of theambushed stagecoach. 

Young Robbins--covered with dust, his face scratched by cactus thorns, and with an arrow still hanging from his clothing--saw the indifferencein their eyes. 

"Surely yuh'll go!" he pleaded. "Yuh--yuh've got to! My father's inthe coach!"

Garvey spoke up, smiling behind his mustache. 

"What could we do against sixty Apaches?" he demanded. "Besides, themen in the stage are dead ones by this time. We couldn't do any good. "

Robbins' face went white. With clenched fists, he advanced towardGarvey. 

"Yo're cowards, that's all!" he cried. "Cowards! And yo're thebiggest one of 'em all!"

Garvey drew back his huge arm and sent his fist crashing into theyouth's face. Robbins, weak and exhausted as he was, went sprawling tothe floor. 

And at that moment the swinging doors of the saloon opened wide. Theman who stood framed there, sweeping the room with cool, calm eyes, wasscarcely older than the youth who had been slugged down. His ratherlong, fair hair was in contrast with the golden tan of his face. Hewore a shirt of fringed buckskin, open at the neck. His trousers weretucked into silver-studded riding boots, weighted with spurs thatjingled in tune to his swinging stride. At each trim hip was the buttof a . 45 revolver. 

The newcomer's eyes held the attention of the men in Garvey's Place. They were blue and mild, but little glinting lights seemed to sparklebehind them. He was silent for a long moment, and when he finallyspoke, it was in a soft, deliberate Southern drawl:

"Isn't it rathah wahm foh such violent exercise, gentlemen?"

Robbins, crimsoned at the mouth, raised on one elbow to look at thestranger. Garvey's lips curled in a sneer. 

"Are yuh tryin' to mind my business?" he leered. 

"When I mind somebody else's business, " said the young stranger softly, "that somebody else isn't usually in business any moah. "

Garvey caught the other's gaze and seemed to find something dangerousthere, for he drew back a step, content with muttering oaths under hisbreath. 

"What's the trouble?" the stranger asked Robbins quietly. 

The youth seemed to know that he had found a friend, for he at oncetold the story of the ambushed stage. 

"I came here for help, " he concluded, "and was turned down. These menare afraid to go. My--my father's on that stage. Won't you help me?"

The stranger seemed to consider. 

"Sho', " he drawled at length, "I'll throw in with you. " He paused toface the gathered company. "And these othah men are goin' to throw inwith yo', too!"

The men in the saloon stood aghast, open-mouthed. But they didn'thesitate long. When the stranger spoke again, his words came like thecrack of a whip:

"Get yo' hosses!"

Garvey's heavy-jawed face went purple with fury. That this youngunknown dared to try such high-handed methods so boldly in LostSprings--which he ruled--maddened him! His big hand slid down towardhis hip with the rapidity of a lightning bolt. 

There was a resounding crash--a burst of red flame. Garvey's handnever closed over his gun butt. The stranger had drawn and fired soquickly that nobody saw his arm move. And the reason that the amazedGarvey did not touch the handle of his . 44 was because there was nohandle there! The young newcomer's bullet had struck the butt of theholstered gun and smashed it to bits. 

Garvey stared at the handleless gun as if stupefied. Then his amazedglance fell upon the stranger, who was smiling easily through theflickering powder fumes. 

"Who--who are yuh?" he stammered. 

The stranger smiled. "Kid Wolf, " he drawled, "from Texas, sah. Myfriends simply say 'Kid, ' but to my enemies I'm The Wolf!"

CHAPTER XXII

THE RESCUE

The stranger's crisp words had their effect, since "Kid Wolf" was aname well known west of the Chisholm Trail. His reputation had beenpassed by word of mouth along the border until there were few who hadnot heard of his deeds. His very name seemed to fill the riffraff ofthe barroom with courage. Some of them cheered, and all prepared toobey the young Texan's orders. Every one was soon busy loading andexamining six-guns. 

Garvey was the one exception. He was infuriated, and his malignanteyes gleamed with hate. Kid Wolf had made an enemy. He was, however, accustomed to that. Smiling ironically, he faced Garvey, who wasquivering all over with helpless rage. 

"Yo' won't need to come along, " he drawled. "I'd rathah have Apachesin front of me than yo' behind me. "

Kid Wolf lost no time in rounding up his hastily drafted posse. Ahorse was procured for Robbins and The Kid prepared to ride by hisside. Kid Wolf's horse was "tied to the ground" outside, and a shoutof genuine admiration went up as the men caught sight of themagnificent creature, beautiful with muscular grace. Swinging into hisCalifornia saddle, the Texan, with Robbins at his side and the posse, numbering eleven men, swept down toward the mountain pass. 

Some of the men carried Winchesters, but for the most part they werearmed with six-guns. Now that they were actually on the way, the menseemed eager for the battle. Perhaps Kid Wolf's cool and determinedleadership had something to do with it. 

Young Robbins reached over and clasped the Texan's hand. 

"I'll never forget this, Mr. Kid Wolf, " he said, tears in his eyes. "If it wasn't for you----"

"Call me 'Kid, '" said the Texan, flashing him a smile. "We'll save yo'fathah and the men in the stage if we can. Anyway, we'll make it hotfo' those Apaches. "

After a few minutes of fast going, they could hear the faint cracklingof gunfire ahead of them, carried on the torrid wind. Robbinsbrightened, for this meant that some survivors still remained on theirfeet. Kid Wolf, experienced in Indian warfare, understood thesituation at once, and ordered his men to scatter and come in on theIndians from all sides. 

"Robbins, " he said, "I want yo' with me. Yo' two, " he went on, singling out a couple of the posse, "ride in from the east. The restof yo' come in from the west and south. Make every shot count, fo' ifwe don't scattah the Apaches at the first chahge, we will be at a bigdisadvantage!"

It was a desperate situation, with the odds nearly five to one againstthem. Reaching the pass, they could look down on the battle from thecover of the mesquites. From the overturned stage, thin jets of firestreaked steadily, and a pall of white smoke hung over it like a cloud. From the brush, other gun flashes answered the fire. Occasionally awrithing brown body could be seen, crawling from point to point. Thethicket seemed to be alive with them. 

Kid Wolf listened for a moment to the faint popping of the guns. Thenhe raised his hand in a signal. 

"Let's go!" he sang out. 

A second later, Blizzard was pounding down the pass like a snowstormbefore the wind. 

The leader of this band of murderous Apaches was a youthful warriornamed Bear Claw, the son of the tribal chief. Peering at the coachfrom his post behind a clump of paloverde, his cruel face was lightedby a grin of satisfaction. From time to time he gave a hoarse order, and at his bidding, his braves would creep up or fall back as theoccasion demanded. 

Bear Claw was in high good humor, for he saw that the ambushed victimsin the stage could not hope to hold out much longer. Only threeremained alive in the coach, and some of these were wounded. The whitemen's fire was becoming less accurate. 

The young leader of the Apaches was horrible to look at. He was nakedsave for a breechcloth and boot moccasins and his face was daubed withocher and vermilion. Across his lean chest, too, was a smear of paintjust under the necklace of bear claws that gave him his name. He wasarmed with a . 50-caliber Sharps single-shot rifle and with the onlyrevolver in the tribe--an old-fashioned cap-and-ball six-shooter, takenfrom some murdered prospector. 

Bear Claw was about to raise his left hand--a signal for the final rushthat would wipe out the white men in the overturned coach--when aterrific volley burst out like rattling thunder from all sides. Bullets raked the brush in a deadly hail. An Indian a few paces fromBear Claw jumped up with a weird yell and fell back again, piercedthrough the body. 

The young chief saw whirlwinds of dust swooping down on the scene fromevery direction. In those whirlwinds, he knew, were horses. Bear Clawhad courage only when the odds were with him. How many men were in theattacking force, he did not know. But there were too many to suit him, and he took no chances. He gave the order for retreat, and thestartled Apaches made a rush for their ponies, hidden in an arroyo. Bear Claw scrambled after them, with lead kicking up dust all about him. 

But it did not take Bear Claw long to see that his band outnumbered thewhite posse, more than four to one. Throwing himself on his horse, hedecided to set his renegade warriors an example. Giving the Apache warwhoop, he kicked his heels in his pony's flanks and led the charge. Picking out the foremost of the posse--a bronzed rider on a snow-whitehorse--he went at him with leveled revolver. 

What happened then unnerved the Apaches at Bear Claw's back. The manBear Claw had charged was Kid Wolf! The Texan did not return theIndian's blaze of revolver fire. He merely ducked low in his saddleand swung his big white horse into Bear Claw's pony! At the same time, he swung out his left hand sharply. It caught Bear Claw's jaw with aterrific jolt. The weight of both speeding horses was behind theimpact. Something snapped. Bear Claw went off his pony's back like abag of meal and landed on the sand, his head at a queer angle. Hisneck was broken!

Then Kid Wolf's guns began to talk. Fire burst from the level of bothhis hips as he put spurs to Blizzard and charged with head low directlyinto the amazed Apaches. The others, too, followed the Texan'sexample, but it was Kid Wolf who turned the trick. It was the decidingcard, and without their chief, the redskins were panic-stricken. Theonly thing they thought of now was escape. The little hoofs of theirponies began to drum madly. But instead of rushing in the direction ofthe whites, they drummed away from them. Kid Wolf ordered his men notto follow. Nor would he allow any more firing. 

"No slaughter, men, " he said. "Save yo' bullets till yo' need them. Let's take a look at the stage. "

Wheeling their mounts, the posse, who had lost not a man in theencounter, raced back to the overturned coach. The vehicle, riddledwith bullets and arrows, resembled a butcher's shop. On the groundnear it was the body of the driver, while the guard, hit in a dozenplaces, lay half in and half out of the coach, dead. 

Young Robbins had left four men alive when he made his escape towardLost Springs. There now remained only two. And one of these, it couldbe seen, was dying. 

"Dad!" Robbins cried. "Are yuh hurt?"

"Got a bullet in the shoulder and one in the knee, " replied his father, crawling out with difficulty. "Good thing yuh got here when yuh did!See to Claymore. He's hit bad. I'm all right. "

Kid Wolf drew out the still breathing form of the other survivor. Hewas quick to note that the man was beyond any human aid. Thefrontiersman, his six-gun still emitting a curl of blue smoke, wasplaced in the shade of the coach, and water was given to him. 

"I'm all shot to pieces, boys, " he gasped. "I'm goin' fast--but I'mglad the Apaches won't have me to--chop up afterward. Take my word forit--there's some white man--behind this. There's twenty thousanddollars in the express box----"

His words trailed off, and with a moan, he breathed his last. Kid Wolfgently drew a blanket over his face and then turned to the others. 

"I think he's right, " he mused, as he took off his wide-brimmed hat. "When Indians murdah, theah's usually a white man's brains behind them. "

Garvey, when Kid Wolf had left with his quickly gathered posse, went tothe bar and took several drinks of his own liquor. It was a fiery redwhisky distilled from wheat, and of the type known to the Indians as"fire water. " It did not put Garvey in any better humor. Wiping hislips, he left his saloon and crossed the road to a tiny one-room adobe. 

A young Indian was sleeping in the shade, and Garvey awakened him witha few well-directed kicks. The Indian's eyes widened with fear at thesight of the white man's rage-distorted face, and when he had heard hisorders, delivered in the hoarse Apache tongue, he raced for his pony, tethered in the bushes near him, and drummed away. 

"Tell 'em to meet me in the saloon pronto!" Garvey shouted after him. 

The saloon keeper passed an impatient half hour. A quartet of Mexicansentered his place demanding liquor, but Garvey waved them away. Something important was evidently on foot. 

Soon the dull _clip-clop_ of horses' hoofs was heard, and he went tothe door to see five riders approaching Lost Springs from the north. He waved his hand to them before they had left the cover of thecottonwoods. 

The group of sunburned, booted men who hastily entered Garvey's Placewere individuals of the Lost Springs ruler's own stamp. All weregunmen, and some wore two revolvers. Most of them were wanted by thelaw for dark deeds done elsewhere. Sheriffs from the Texas Panhandlewould have recognized two of them as Al and Andy Arnold--brothermurderers. Another was a killer chased out of Dodge City, Kansas--aslender, quick-fingered youth known as "Pick" Stephenson. HenryShank--a gunman from Lincoln, New Mexico--strode in their lead. 

The fifth member of the quintet was the most terrible of them all. Hewas a half-breed Apache, dressed partly in the Indian way and partlylike a white. He wore a battered felt hat with a feather in the crown. He wore no shirt, but over his naked chest was buttoned a dirty vest, around which two cap-and-ball Colt revolvers swung. 

His stride, muffled by his beaded moccasins, was as noiseless as acat's. This man--Garvey's go-between--was Charley Hood. He grinnedcontinually, but his smile was like the snarl of a snapping dog. 

"What's up, Garvey?" Shank demanded. "We was just ready to start outfer a cattle clean-up. "

"Plenty's up, " snarled Garvey. "Help yoreselves to liquor while I tellyuh. First o' all, do any of yuh know Kid Wolf?"

It was evident that most of them had heard of him. None had seen him, however, and Garvey went on to tell what had happened. 

"How many men did he take with him?" Stephenson wanted to know. 

"About a dozen. "

"Bear Claw will wipe him out, then, " grinned Al Arnold. 

"Somehow I don't think so, " said Garvey. "And if that stage deal failsus----"

"A twenty-thousand-dollar job!" Shank barked angrily. "And we gethalf!"

"We get all, " chuckled Garvey. "The Apaches will give their share tome for fire water. That's why this must go through. If Bear Claw andhis braves slip up, we'll have to finish it. As for Kid Wolf----"

Garvey's expression changed to one of malignant fury, and he made thesignificant gesture of cutting a throat. 

"I hear that this Kid Wolf makes it his business to right wrongs, "Shank sneered. "Thinks he's a law of himself. Justice, he calls it. "

"Well, one thing!" roared Garvey, thumping the bar. "There ain't nolaw west o' the Pecos! And he's west o' the Pecos now! The only lawhere is this kind, " and he tapped his . 44. 

"What's happened to yore gun?" one of them asked. 

Garvey's face suddenly went dark red. 

"I dropped it this mornin' and busted the handle, " he lied. "If it hadbeen in workin' order, I'd have got this Kid Wolf the minute he openedhis mouth. "

"Well, if the Apaches don't get him, we will, " Stephenson declared. "By the way, Garvey, there's another deal on foot. What do yuh thinko' this?" And he laid a chunk of ore on the bar under the saloonkeeper's nose. 

"Solid silver!" Garvey gasped. "Where's it from?"

"From the valley of the San Simon. It's from land owned--owned, mindyuh--by an hombre named Robbins. Gov'ment grant. "

"We'll figger a way to get it, " returned Garvey, then his eyesnarrowed. "What name did yuh say?"

"Robbins. Bill Robbins. "

Garvey grinned. "Why, he was on the stage! It was his kid that camehere and made his play fer help. Looks like things is comin' our way, after all. "

The conference was interrupted by the sound of galloping hoofs. AnIndian pounded up in front of the saloon in a cloud of yellow dust. The pony was lathered and breathing hard. 

"It's a scout!" Garvey cried. "Let him in, and we'll see what he hasto say. "

The Indian runner's words, gasped in halting, broken English, broughtconsternation to Garvey and his treacherous gunmen:

"No get money box. Have keel two-three, maybe more, of white men instage wagon. Then riders come. White chief on white devil horse, hebreak Bear Claw's neck. Bear Claw die. We ride away as fast as coulddo. White men fix stage wagon. Hunt for horse to drive it to LostSprings. "

Garvey clenched his huge fists. 

"Get me another gun!" he rasped. "We'll have this out with Kid Wolfright now!"

Charley Hood spoke for the first time, and his bestial face withdistorted with rage. 

"Bear Claw son of Great Chief Yellow Skull! Yellow Skull get Keed Wolfif he have to follow him across world! And when he get him----"

Charley Hood, the half-breed, laughed insanely. 

"I never thought of that, " said Garvey. "Maybe we'd be doin' Mr. Wolffrom Texas a favor by puttin' lead through him. Bear Claw was YellowSkull's favorite. The old chief is an expert at torture. I'd like tobe on hand to see it. But I've got an idea. Shank, have José dig agrave on Boot Hill--make it two of 'em. We've got to get that expressmoney. "

"And the silver, " chuckled the desperado, as he took a farewell drinkat the bar. 

CHAPTER XXIII

TWO OPEN GRAVES

It was some time before the overturned stagecoach could be righted. Ittook longer to provide a team for it. When the bodies of theunfortunate white men had been loaded into the vehicle and the ponieslined out it was late in the afternoon. 

Kid Wolf had examined the contents of the express box and found that itcontained a small fortune in money. He decided to take charge of itand see that it reached proper hands. Twenty miles west of LostSprings, he learned, were an express-company station and agent. TheTexan planned to guard the money at Lost Springs overnight and thentake it on to the express post, located at Mexican Tanks. 

The two Robbinses, both father and son, were overcome with gratitudetoward the man who had saved them. They at once agreed to stay withKid Wolf. 

The posse members that the Texan had drafted at revolver point were notso willing. Although most of them were honest men, they fearedGarvey's gang and the consequences of their act. All of them suspectedthat Garvey had a hand in the plot to rob the stagecoach. Most of themmade excuses and rode away in different directions. 

"We beat the Apaches, " explained one, "so I reckon I'll go back to theranch. Adios, and good luck!"

Kid Wolf smiled. He knew that the men were leaving him for otherreasons. Perhaps a man with less courage would have avoided LostSprings, or even abandoned the money. The young Texan, however, wasnot to be swerved from what he believed to be the right. 

"Look out for Garvey, Kid, " begged Dave Robbins. "He hates yuh forwhat yuh done. "

"I've heard of him, " the elder Robbins added. "If helpin' us has gotyou into trouble, I'm sorry. He's a man without a heart. "

"Then some day, " Kid Wolf said softly, "he's liable to find a bullet inthe spot wheah his heart ought to be. I don't regret comin' to yo'aid, not fo' a minute. And I guess Blizzahd and I are ready to seethis thing through to the end. "

Kid Wolf was riding on his white horse alongside the rumbling stage. The only member of the drafted posse who had stayed was driving thevehicle, and beside him on the box rode the two Robbinses, father andson. 

The road to Lost Springs was not the direct route the Indian messengerhad taken. It led around steep side hills and high-banked washes inwhich nothing grew but tough, stunted clumps of thirsty paloverde. Near the tiny settlement, the trail climbed a long slope to swingaround a cactus-cluttered mound which served as Lost Springs' BootHill. The stage trail cut the barren little graveyard in two, and onboth sides of it were headboards, some rotting with age, and othersquite new, marking the last resting places of men who had died withsmoke in their eyes. 

It was nearly sundown when Kid Wolf and the party with thebullet-riddled coach reached this point. They found a group ofhard-eyed men waiting for them. With Garvey were his five gunmen, mounted, armed to the teeth, and blocking the road! Kid Wolf caughtthe driver's eyes and nodded for him to go on. The stage rumbled up tothe spot where Garvey waited. 

"Stop!" the Lost Springs ruler snarled. "I reckon we want some wordswith yuh!"

"Is it words yo' want, " drawled the Texan, drawing up his snowy mount, "or bullets?"

"That depends on you!" Garvey snapped. "We mean business. Hand overthat express money. "

"And the next thing?" the Texan asked softly. 

"Next thing, we got business with that man!" Garvey pointed to DaveRobbins' father. 

"With me?" Robbins demanded in astonishment. 

"The same. We want yuh to sign this paper, turnin' over yore claim inthe San Simon to me. Now both of yuh have heard!"

"But why should yuh want my claim in San Simon?"

"Yuh might as well know, " Garvey sneered in reply, "there's silver onit. And I want it. Hand over that express box now and sign the paper. If yuh don't----"

"And if we don't?" Kid Wolf asked mildly. His eyebrows had risen themerest trifle. 

"Here's the answer!" Garvey rasped. He pointed at two mounds offreshly disturbed earth a few feet from the road. "Read what's writtenover 'em, and take yore choice. "

Kid Wolf saw that two headboards had been erected near the shallowgraves. One of them had the following significant epitaph written onit in neatly printed Spanish:

 _Aqui llacen restos de Kid Wolf. _

This in English was translated: "Here lies in the grave, at rest, KidWolf. "

The other headboard was the same, except that the name "Bill Robbins"had been inserted. 

"Those graves will be filled, " sneered Garvey, "unless yuh both comethrough. Now what's yore answer?"

"Garvey, " spoke up Kid Wolf, "I've known of othah white men who hiredthe Apaches to do their dirty work. They all came to a bad end. Andso, if yo' want my answah--take it!"

Garvey's gang found themselves staring into the muzzles of two . 45s!

The draw had been magical, so swiftly had the Texan's hands snappeddown at his hips. Al Arnold, alone of the six riders, saw the movementin time even to think about drawing his own weapon. And perhaps itwould have been better if he had not seen, for his own gun pull wasslow and clumsy in comparison with Kid Wolf's. His right hand hadmoved but a few inches when the Texan's left-hand Colt spat a wickedtongue of flame. 

Before the thunder of the explosion could be heard, the leaden slugtore its way through Arnold's wrist. Before the puff of black powdersmoke had drifted away, Arnold's gun was thudding to the ground. Theothers dared not draw, as Kid Wolf's other six-gun still swept them. They knew that the Texan could not fail to get one or more of them, andthey hesitated. Garvey himself remained motionless, frozen in thesaddle. His lips trembled with rage. 

"I'm not a killah, " Kid Wolf drawled. "I nevah take life unless it'sforced on me. If I did, I'd soon make Lost Springs a bettah place tolive in. Now turn yo' backs with yo' hands in the air--and ride! Thenext time I shoot, it's goin' to be on sight! Vamose! Pronto!"

Muttering angrily under their breath, Garvey and his gunmen obeyed theorder. Yet Kid Wolf knew that the trouble had not been averted, butmerely postponed. He was not through with the Lost Springs bandit gang. 

The driver of the coach--the only member of the posse who had remainedloyal in the face of peril--was a man of courage. Johnson was hisname, and he offered his adobe house as a place of refuge for the night. 

"I'm thinkin' yuh'll be needin' it, " he told the Texan. "We can stand'em off there, for a while, anyway. Garvey will have a hundred Mexesand Injuns with him before mornin'. "

Kid Wolf accepted, and the coach was deserted. They buried the bodiesof the men they had brought in the stage, not in the Lost Springsgraveyard, but in an arroyo near it. Then they removed the valuableexpress box and took it with them to the Johnson adobe. 

The house was a two-room affair, not more than a quarter of a mile fromthe Springs, and still closer to Boot Hill. On the side next to thewater hole, the grass and tulles grew nearly waist-high. On the otherthree sides, barren ground swept out as far as eye could reach. 

Kid Wolf placed the express box in the one living room of the hut. Asa great deal might depend upon having horses ready, Blizzard, alongwith two pinto ponies, was quartered in the other apartment. Thisredone, and with one of the four men standing watch at all times, theyprepared a hasty meal. 

"One thing we lack that we got to have, " stated Johnson. "It's water. I'll take a bucket and go to the spring. I know the path through thetulles. "

They watched him proceed warily toward the water hole. The landscapewas peaceful. Not a moving thing could be seen. In a few moments, Johnson was swallowed up in the high grass. He reappeared again, carrying a brimming bucket. They could see the setting sun sparklingon the water as he swung along. Then suddenly a shot rang outsharply--the unmistakable crack of a Sharps . 50-caliber rifle! Withouta cry, Johnson sank into the tulles, the bucket clattering beside him. He had been shot in the back!

A cry of horror burst from the lips of the watchers in the adobe. Itwas all that Kid Wolf could do to hold back the excitable youngerRobbins, who wanted to avenge their friend's death immediately. 

"No use fo' us to show ouahselves until we know how the cahds arestacked, " the Texan said grimly. "Nevah mind, Dave. They'll pay fo'it!"

It was hard to tell just how many of their enemies might be lurking inthe tulles or beyond them. They were soon to find that there were fartoo many. Gunfire began to blaze out in sharp, reëchoing volleys. Bullets clipped the adobe shack, sending up spurts of gray dust. 

"Don't show yo'selves, " Kid Wolf warned. 

His keen eyes lined out the sights of his own twin Colts, and he firedtwice, and then twice again. As far as the others could see, there wasnothing in view to shoot at; but agitated threshings about in thetulles showed them that at least some of his bullets had found humanlodging places. 

Garvey had evidently succeeded in adding men to his gang, for more thana dozen gun flashes burst out at once. The attackers soon learned, however, that it wasn't healthy to attempt to rush the adobe. Surrounding it was impossible, and for a while they contentedthemselves with sending lead humming through the small window on theexposed side of the hut. 

"We're in fo' a siege, " Kid Wolf told the elder Robbins. 

"Maybe we'd better give in to 'em, " said the other. 

Kid Wolf smiled and shook his head. 

"That wouldn't save us. They'd butchah us, anyway. Nevah yuh worry. Before they get us, they'll find that The Wolf, from Texas, has teeth!"

"Then we'll play out the hand, " agreed Robbins. 

"To the last cahd, " Kid Wolf drawled. "I have two hands heah that canturn up twelve lead aces fo' a show-down. And I have anothah ace--asteel one, that's always in the deck. "

The Texan saw as well as the others how desperate the situation hadbecome. He knew that death would be the probable outcome for all ofthem. 

Kid Wolf, however, was not a type of man who gave up. If they must goout, he decided, they would go out fighting. 

The sun climbed the sky and disappeared over the distant blue range tothe west, leaving the desert behind bathed in warm reds and softpurples. Then the shadows deepened, and night fell. 

With it came a full moon, riding high out of the southeast--apumpkin-colored, gigantic Arizona moon that changed to shining silver. Its light illuminated the scene and turned the landscape nearly asbright as day. This was a fact in favor of the three men cornered inthe adobe. The attackers dared not show themselves in a rush. Allnight long their guns cracked, and they continued to do so when theeast was beginning to lighten with the dawn. 

Another day, and it proved to be one of torment. There was no water. Before the hour of noon, the three besieged men were suffering fromintense thirst. The little adobe was like an oven. The sun burneddown pitilessly, distorting the air with waves of heat, and drawingmocking mirages in the sky. Bullets still hummed and buzzed aboutthem. Every hissing slug seemed to whistle the mournful tune of"Death--death--death!" Late in the afternoon, the elder Robbins couldendure the torture no longer. 

"I'm goin' after water!" he cried. 

Neither his son nor Kid Wolf could reason with him. He would notlisten. He reasoned that although it was death to venture to thespring, it was also death to remain. He was nearly crazed with thirst. 

"Let me go, then, " said the Texan. 

"No!" gasped Robbins. "Yuh stay with Dave. I'm old, anyway. Promiseyuh'll stick with him, no matter what happens to me!"

"I promise, " said The Kid, and the two men shook hands. 

Getting to the water hole and back again was a forlorn hope, butRobbins was past reasoning. Lurching through the door, he ran outsidethe hut and toward the tulles. Young Robbins cried after his father, and then covered his eyes. 

There was a sudden crackling of revolver fire. Spurts of bluish smokeblossomed out from the high grass--half a score of them! Bill Robbinsstaggered on his feet, reeled on a few steps, and then fell. His bodyhad been riddled. 

Kid Wolf's touch was tender as he took the orphaned youth's hand in hisown. But his voice, when he spoke, was like his eyes--hard as steel:

"Garvey will join him, Dave, or we will! And if we do, let's hopewe'll meet it as bravely. I have a plan. If we escape, we must do itto-night. Can yo' stick it out till then?"

Young Robbins nodded. The death of his father had been a great shockto him, but he did not flinch. In that desperate hour, Kid Wolf knewthat he no longer had a boy at his side, but a man!

How the day wore its way through to a close was ever afterward amystery to them. Their throats were parched, and their eyes bloodshot. To make matters worse, their horses, too, were suffering. Blizzardnickered softly from time to time, but quieted when Kid Wolf called tohim through the wall. 

Night brought some relief. Again the moon rose upon the tragic scene, and it grew cooler. Before the twilight had quite faded, Kid Wolf andDave Robbins saw something that made them boil inwardly--the burial ofBill Robbins on Boot Hill!

Out of revolver range, a group of the bandits was filling up the grave. Garvey had made half of his threat good. And he was biding his time tocomplete his boast. The Texan's grave still waited!

A thin bank of clouds rolled up to obscure somewhat the light of themoon. This was what Kid Wolf had been waiting for. It was their onlychance. 

"I'm goin' to try and get through on foot, " he whispered. "Befo' I go, I'll unloose Blizzahd. He's trained to follow, and he'll find melatah, if I make it. I don't dare ride him, because he's white and toogood a tahget in the moon. I'll have to crawl toward Boot Hill. It'sthe only way out. In half an houah, yo' follow. Savvy?"

Dave nodded. Then The Kid added a few terse directions:

"I'll show yo' the way and meet yo' on the hill. Be as quiet andcareful as an Indian, and take yo' time. If anything should happen tome, strike fo' yo' place on the San Simon. The reason I'm goin' firstis so that yo' can escape in the excitement if they spot me. Heah'sluck! I'll turn my hoss loose now. "

They shook hands. Then, like a lithe moving shadow, the Texan creptout into the night. 

CHAPTER XXIV

PURSUIT

Fire flames darted occasionally from the high tulles, licking thedarkness like the tongues of venomous serpents. Rifles cracked, andbullets, fired at random, buzzed across the sand flats. Kid Wolf hadan uncomfortable few minutes ahead of him. 

Whenever the moon peeped out of its flying blanket of cloud, he wasforced to lie flat and motionless on the ground. Lead often spattereduncomfortably close, but foot by foot he made his way toward Boot Hill. 

This rise in ground, he believed, would be free from his enemies. After once reaching this, Dave Robbins and he would be on the road tosafety. Blizzard, well trained, would follow him if he managed toelude the bullets of the Garvey gang. 

The Texan was on Boot Hill now, and for the first time in many minutes, he breathed freely. The firing behind had become faint, and it washardly likely that any watchers remained on the hill. 

But Kid Wolf received a thrill of horror and surprise. The moondrifted free of its cloud curtain for a moment. He was standing not adozen feet from the two freshly made graves. One, with Bill Robbins'headboard over it, was covered with a mound of earth. 

Standing near the other, with a cocked revolver in his hand, was thehalf-breed, Charley Hood! His cruel lips were parted in a terriblesmile as he slowly raised the weapon to a level with his eyes!

While Kid Wolf had been creeping toward Boot Hill, Dave Robbins was inthe adobe hut, counting the dragging minutes. The suspense, now thatthe time for action was at hand, was nerve-racking. Would the Texanmake it? Robbins strained his ears for the triumphant yells that wouldannounce The Kid's death or capture. 

As the seconds grew to minutes, he began to breathe easier. When itseemed to him that a half hour had passed, he prepared to follow. Themoon, however, was now too bright, and he had to wait fully a quarterof an hour more before the light faded to shadow again. When themoment arrived, he squirmed through the doorway and across the sands onhis hands and knees. 

Dave Robbins was frontier bred, and although his progress was slowerthan the Texan's had been, he crept along as silently as one of theredskins themselves. Not a mesquite twig snapped under his body; not apebble rattled. It seemed to take him hours to reach the hill whichKid Wolf had pointed out to him. As he did so, the moonlight againbecame so bright that it made the landscape nearly as white as day. For a time, he lay flat against the ground; then he wriggled on. 

Where was he? Would he find his friend, the Texan? He waited a while, and then whistled, soft and low. There was no answer. He lookedaround him, trying to decide where he was and what to do. His eyesfell upon the two recently dug graves. Headboards stood at each ofthem. Both were covered. Near the mounds lay a spade. The earthclinging to it was moist. 

With his heart in his throat, Dave Robbins again looked at the gravemarkers. One read: "Bill Robbins. " It was the grave of his father!The other mound was marked "Kid Wolf"!

For a few minutes, Dave Robbins stood numbed. Something terrible hadhappened; just what, he did not know. It seemed the end. Could hisfriend, the gallant Texan, have met death? It didn't seem possible, and yet the evidence was before his eyes. Anger against Garvey and hishired killers suddenly overcame him. A hot wave seemed to sweep overhim. He turned about and faced, not the distant San Simon, but in thedirection of his enemies. 

"I'll get some of 'em before I go, Kid!" he cried. 

As if in answer, something came to his ears that brought a cry of joyto the youth. It was a stanza of a familiar song, sung in the soft, musical accents of the South:

 "Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie-ee!"

Turning about, Dave Robbins saw Kid Wolf's face in the moonlight! Theshock of it left the youth weak for a moment. The two wrung hands, andRobbins blurted:

"I thought yuh were dead! What happened? Why this covered grave?"

"A half-breed lookout, " the Texan explained in a whisper. "Ugly, butslow with a gun. He had the drop, so instead of reachin' fo' mahColts, I pretended to raise mah hands. Then I gave him this--mah holecahd, the thirteenth ace. "

And Kid Wolf showed him the heavy bowie knife so carefully hidden inits sheath sewn to the inside of his shirt collar. 

"With this through his throat, he fell right in the grave they'd dugfo' me. Then I saw the shovel, and I couldn't resist throwin' somedirt ovah him. Well, that's that. I hated to take his life, but I hadto do it to save mine. The thing to do now is to get out of this. "

"How do yuh expect yore hoss to get to us?" breathed Robbins. 

"Listen. " The Texan smiled. "He knows this call. "

He waited for a lull in the rifle-popping below, and then he gave thecoyote yell--a mournful cry that seemed to echo and reëcho. The soundwas so perfect an imitation that Robbins could scarcely believe hisears. And it even fooled the Indians. It did not, however, deceivethe sagacious horse that waited patiently in the adobe. The Kidclutched his young companion's arm. Straining their eyes, they saw awhite something moving up an arroyo. 

"That Blizzahd hoss is smahter than I am, " chuckled the Texan. "Heknows who his enemies are, and he knows how to keep out of their sight. Watch him climb that dry wash. "

They held their breath until Blizzard, moving so noiselessly that hishoofs seemed as cushioned as a cougar's, reached the top of the hill. Then Kid Wolf led him over it and down again into a gully a littledistance to the west of it. Ahead of them now was safety, if theycould make it. The Texan mounted and swung up Robbins behind thesaddle. 

"Too bad we had to leave that twenty thousand, Kid, " said Robbins. 

The Kid's white teeth flashed in a smile. 

"Really, Dave, " he drawled, "do yo' think I'd let Garvey get away withthat? That express box was just a blind. Don't yo' know what I didwhile the rest of yo' were tippin' back the stagecoach? No? Well, Itransferred the twenty thousand to Blizzahd's saddlebags, so themoney"--he tapped the bulges on each side of the big saddle--"is rightheah!"

Kid Wolf, ever since he had taken charge of the express money, hadrealized his responsibility and trust. He would protect it with hislife. If he could reach Mexican Tanks with it, the money would besafe, for a small post of soldiers and government scouts guarded theplace. 

They had not gone a half mile, however, when a sound of distantshouting broke out behind them. 

"That means they've discovahed ouah absence, " said the Texan, grimly. "We'll have ouah hands full befo' long!"

Robbins, and the Texan as well, had been through the country before, and knew the lay of the land. The former had learned the location of awater hole west of them in the hills, and they decided to head forthat, as they were suffering from intense thirst. Blizzard, too, hadnot taken water for thirty-six hours. 

The Apache is one of the best trailers in the world. They were under aterrible handicap, and both realized it. With the great white horse, strong as it was, carrying double, they could not hope to out-distancepursuit. 

"Yuh'd better leave me, Kid, " Robbins begged. 

"Befo' I'd leave yo', " returned the Texan, "I'd leave _me_!"

Dawn began to glow pink and orange behind them, and gradually the dim, star-studded vault overhead became gray with the new day. Shortlyafterward, they reached the water hole. It was nearly dry, but enoughmoisture remained to refresh both horse and riders. 

Then they went on again. Kid Wolf could, tell by Blizzard's actionsthat they were being followed. Before long he himself saw signs. Little dust clouds began to show behind them, scattered over a linemiles long. 

"Garvey and his Apaches!" the Texan jerked out. "And they're gainin'fast. "

"Can we beat 'em to Mexican Tanks?"

"No, " The Kid drawled, "but we can fight!"

They soon saw the hopelessness of it all. The horizon behind themswarmed with moving dots--dots that grew larger and more distinct withevery fleeting minute. Garvey had obtained reënforcements, withoutdoubt, for there seemed to be no end to the pursuing Apaches. 

Blizzard ran like the thoroughbred he was. But even his iron musclescould not stand the strain for long. The ponies behind were fresh, andthe snow-white charger was tremendously handicapped with the addedweight which had been placed upon it. 

Puffs of white smoke blossomed out behind them. A bullet, spent andfar short, dropped away to their left, sending up a geyser of sand. 

"I guess we'll fight now, " Kid Wolf said, drawing his six-guns. 

The grim-faced fighter from Texas knew the ways of the Apaches and wasprepared for what followed. It was not his first encounter withrenegade red men of the Southwest. He was also aware of what awaitedthem if they were taken captive. Death with lead would be far moremerciful. 

The line of Apache warriors spread out even farther. Blizzard wasspeeding over a flat table-land now, flanked by two ridges of iron-grayhills. A file of Indians separated from the main body and raced alongthe left-hand ridge. Another file of copper-brown, half-naked savagesdrummed along to the right. 

Rifle fire crackled and flashed. Bullets now began to buzz and whinelike infuriated insects. Arrows, falling far short, whistled an angrytune. The Kid held his fire and bade Dave Robbins follow his example. It was no time to waste lead. 

"Go, Blizzahd, like yo' nevah went befo'!" cried the Texan. 

The beautiful white horse seemed to realize its master's danger. Itran on courage alone. Its nostrils were expanded wide, its flanks andneck foam-flecked. The steel muscles rippled under its snowy hide, until it seemed to fly like a winged thing. But it is one thing tocarry a hundred and sixty pounds; another thing to bear nearly threehundred. The pace could not last. 

Kid Wolf pinned his hopes on reaching a deep arroyo ahead of them. Already the range was becoming deadly. A bullet ripped through theTexan's hat. Another burned his side. Directly behind them, Garveyand his gunmen--the two Arnolds, Henry Shank, and Stephenson--poundedfuriously, gaining at every jump. Their mounts were better than thoseof the Indians, and Kid Wolf saw that they must be stopped at all costs. 

For the first time, his guns belched flame. The two Arnolds went down, unhorsed. Even in that desperate moment, Kid Wolf hesitated to killuntil it was necessary. The Arnolds, however, were out of the chasefor good and all. Stephenson also felt the crippling sting of theTexan's lead and toppled from his mount, drilled high in the shoulder. 

Henry Shank and Gil Garvey, shaken at The Kid's marksmanship, drew intheir horses, unwilling to press closer. That gave Blizzard his chanceto make the shelter of the arroyo. Suddenly it yawned at their feet--aterrific jump. Would Blizzard take it? A reassuring pressure of aknee was all the inspiration the horse needed. They seemed to rushthrough the air. Then they were sliding down the bank in a cloud ofdust, Blizzard tense and stiff-legged. By a miracle, they reached thebottom unhurt, and without losing a second, Kid Wolf headed hisfaithful mount into a thick paloverde clump. 

"We'll have to stand 'em off heah, " he panted. 

The Texan's eyes surveyed his exhausted horse. They seemed to lightwith an idea. Even in that desperate plight, his mind worked rapidly. 

"I've got a hunch, Dave, " he said. "It may not help us, but----"

He quickly loaded one of his . 45s and stuck it down in one ofBlizzard's stirrups in such a way that it could not jolt out. Then hegave the horse a sharp pat on the neck. 

"Go, Blizzahd, " he urged, "until I call!"

The horse seemed to understand perfectly, for it wheeled and ran withall its speed down the arroyo. It was soon lost to sight among themesquites. 

"He'll stay out of sight and within call, " explained the Texan. "Wemay need him worse than we do now. Anyway, Garvey will have plentytrouble gettin' that express money. "

They prepared to fight it out until the last, for already the Indianswere forcing their ponies down into the arroyo. A triumphant shoutwent up--a shout that became an elated, bloodthirsty war cry. TheApaches saw that the two white men were almost within their grasp. 

"Good-by, Dave, " said The Kid. 

They grasped hands for a moment. There was no fear in their faces. Then they confronted the renegades. It was to be their last stand!

"Here's hopin' we get Garvey before we go!" said Robbins fiercely. 

A storm of bullets tore through the paloverdes, sending twigs andleaves flying. Kid Wolf smiled coolly along the barrel of hisremaining gun, and he deliberately lined the sights. 

The impact of the explosions kicked the heavy weapon about in his hand, but every shot brought grief to some savage. Robbins' gun also blazed. 

A half dozen screaming Apaches rushed their position in the thicket. The charge failed, stopped by lead. Another came, almost in the samebreath. It faltered, then came on, reënforced. There were too many ofthem for two men to check. 

Kid Wolf understood their guttural cries as they advanced. 

"They mean to take us alive!" he cried. "Don't let 'em do it, son!It's better to die fightin'!"

But the Apaches seemed to have more than an ordinary reason for wantingto capture them. They came on, a coppery swarm, clubbing their guns. 

There was no time to reload! The two young white men found themselvesfighting hand to hand in desperate battle. Kid Wolf smashed two of theIndians, sending them sprawling back into their companions with brokenheads. But still they came--dozens of them!

Robbins was down, then up again. He felt hands seize him. Kid Wolffelt the impact of a gun stock on his head. The world seemed to swaycrazily. Even while falling to the ground he still fought, his hardfists landing on the faces and chests of the red warriors in smashingblows. His feet were seized, then one arm. In vain he tried to tearhimself loose. 

"Fine! Now throw some rope around 'em!" they heard Garvey say. 

A shower of blows fell upon the Texan's head. He dropped, with a halfdozen red warriors clinging to him. It was the end!

CHAPTER XXV

BLIZZARD'S CHARGE

Kid Wolf was so dazed for a time that he but dimly realized what washappening to him. Half stunned, he was carried, along with DaveRobbins, out of the arroyo. He was light-headed from the blows he hadreceived. 

That torture was in store for them, he well knew. He heard GilGarvey's voice calling for Yellow Skull. Red faces, smeared with warpaint, glared at him. He was being taken on a pony's back through athicket of brush. 

They were up on the mesa again, for he felt the sun burn out and a hotwind sweep the desert. What were they waiting for?

Yellow Skull! Kid Wolf had heard of that terrible, insane Apachechief. He could expect about as much mercy from him as he could fromGarvey. 

Some one was shaking his shoulder. It was the Lost Springs banditleader. 

Kid Wolf looked about him. A score or more of warriors, naked save forbreechcloths, stood around in a hostile circle. Garvey was chucklingand in high good humor. With him was Shank, sneering and cold-eyed. 

"We want to know where that money is!" Garvey shouted. 

Kid Wolf's brain was clearing. On the ground, a few feet away, layDave Robbins, still stunned. 

"I'm not sayin', " the Texan returned calmly. 

Garvey's blotched face was convulsed with rage. 

"Yuh'll wish yuh had, blast yuh!" he snarled. "I'm turnin' yuh bothover to Yellow Skull! He's got somethin' in store for yuh that'll makeyuh wish yuh'd never been born! Yo're west o' the Pecos now, Mr. Wolf--and there's no law here but me!"

The Kid eyed him steadily. "Theah's no law, " he said, "but justice. And some of these times, sah, yo' will meet up with it!"

"I suppose yuh think yuh can hand it to me yoreself, " leered the banditleader. 

"I may, " said Kid Wolf quietly. 

Garvey laughed loudly and contemptuously. 

"Yellow Skull!" he called. "Come here!"

The man who strode forward with snakelike, noiseless steps washorrible, if ever a man was horrible. He was the chief of the renegadeApache band, and as insane as a horse that has eaten of the loco weed. Sixty years or more in age, his face was wrinkled in yellow folds overhis gaunt visage. Above his beaked nose, his beady black eyesglittered wickedly, and his jagged fangs protruded through his animallips. He wore a breechcloth of dirty white, and his chest was naked, save for two objects--objects terrible enough to send a thrill ofhorror through the beholder. Suspended on a long cord around his neckwere two shriveled human hands. Above this was a necklace made ofdried human fingers. 

"Yellow Skull, " said Garvey, pointing to Kid Wolf, "meet the man whoslew yore son, Bear Claw!"

The expression of the chief's face became ghastly. His eyes wideneduntil they showed rings of white; his nostrils expanded. With a fierceyell, he thumped his scrawny chest until it boomed like an Indian drum. Then he gave a series of guttural orders to his followers. 

Kid Wolf, who knew the Apache tongue, listened and understood. Hissunburned face paled a bit, but his eyes remained steady. He turnedhis head to look at Robbins, who was recovering consciousness. 

"Keep up yo' nerve, son, " he comforted. "I'm afraid this is goin' tobe pretty terrible. "

The bonds of the two white men were loosened, and they were pulled totheir feet and made to walk for some distance. Garvey and Shank, grinning evilly, accompanied them. 

Kid Wolf felt the comforting weight of his hidden knife at the back ofhis neck. It would do him little good, however, to draw it, for he washemmed in by the Apaches. He might get two or three, but in the end hewould be beaten down. He was determined, at any rate, to go outfighting. If he could only bring justice to Garvey before he died, hewould be content. Tensely he waited for the opportune time. 

One of the redskins carried a comb of honey. The Texan knew what thatmeant. The most horrible torture that could have been devised by menawaited them. 

The torture party paused in a clear space in the middle of a highthicket of mesquite. Here in the sun-baked, packed sand were two anthills. 

Kid Wolf had heard of the method before. What Yellow Skull intended todo was this: The two prisoners would be staked and tied so tightlyover the ant hills that neither could move a muscle. Then their mouthswould be propped open and honey smeared inside. The swarming coloniesof red ants would do the rest. 

For the first time, Dave Robbins seemed to realize what was in storefor them. He turned his face to the Texan's, his eyes piteous. 

"Kid!" he gasped, horrified. 

"Steady, son, " said Kid Wolf. "Steady!"

Quick hope had suddenly begun to beat in his breast. Deep within themesquite thicket, he had caught sight of something white and moving. It was his horse! Blizzard had followed his master, and stood ready todo his bidding. 

Already the grinning Apaches were coming forward with the stakes andropes. Not a second was to be lost. It was a forlorn hope, but KidWolf knew that he could depend on Blizzard to do his best. Sharp andclear, the Texan gave the coyote yell!"

"_Yip-yip-ee!_"

What happened took place so suddenly that the Apaches never realizedwhat it all was! Crash! Like a white, avenging ghost horse, thesuperb Texas charger leaped out of the mesquite, muscles bunched. Itmade the distance to its master's side in two flashing leaps, bowlingover a half dozen Indians as it did so! The Apaches fell back, overcome with astonishment. 

With a quick movement, Kid Wolf drew his knife, pulling it from hisneck sheath like lightning. With it he felled the nearest warrior. Another step brought him to Blizzard's side. 

Garvey and Shank, acting quicker than their red allies, drew theirrevolvers. 

"Get him! Shoot 'em down!" they yelled. 

But Kid Wolf had seized the gun he had placed in Blizzard's stirrup. He dropped to his knees to the sand, just as lead hummed over his head. 

Dave Robbins had struck one of the amazed Apaches and had jerked hisrifle away from him. Clubbing it, he smashed two others as fast asthey dived in. 

Shank rushed, his gun winking spurts of fire. 

Kid Wolf could not spare his enemies now. His own life depended on hisflashing Colt. He lined the tip of his front sight and thumbed thehammer. 

_Thr-r-r-rup!_ Shank gasped, as lead tore through him. He droppedheadfirst, arms outstretched. 

"Get on the hoss!" The Kid yelled at Robbins. Then he turned his gunon Garvey. 

In his rage, the Lost Springs desperado fired too quickly. His aim wasbad, and the slug sang over the Texan's head. 

"Reckon yo' are about to get the law that's west of the Pecos now, Garvey--justice!"

With his words, The Kid threw down on Garvey and suddenly snapped thehammer. The bullet found its mark. If Garvey had no heart, Kid Wolf'sbullet found the spot where it ought to be. With his glazing eyes, GilGarvey--wholesale murderer--saw justice at last. Dropping his gun, heswayed for a moment on his feet, then fell heavily. 

"Look out, Kid!" Robbins yelled. 

The Texan whirled just in time. A pace behind him was Yellow Skull, his hideous face distorted with mad fury. In his thin hand was a longleather thong, to which was attached a round stone. A second more, andKid Wolf's skull would have been smashed!

A burst of flame stopped him. The chief sagged, dropped. The Kid hadfired just as the stone was whirled aloft. The Indians, now that theirchief and white allies had fallen, retreated. The almost miraculousappearance of the horse had dismayed them and filled them withsuperstitious fear. A few more shots served to scatter them and sendthem flying for cover. Kid Wolf vaulted into the saddle. Robbins wasalready on Blizzard's back. 

"Heads low!" sang out the Texan. 

He headed the horse for the mesquites. Crashing through them, theyfound themselves on the mesa plain once more. Kid Wolf urged Blizzardto greater speed. Bullets buzzed around them, but it was evident thatthe Apaches had lost heart. Blizzard pounded on, and the cries behindsoon grew fainter and fainter. Kid Wolf relaxed a little and grinned. 

"That's what I'd call a narrow squeak, " he chuckled. "How far toMexican Tanks?"

"On over the mesa, " panted Robbins, "five or six miles. "

"Then we'll make it, " decided The Kid. 

A quarter of an hour later, they drew rein and looked behind. Whetherthe Indians feared to approach any nearer to the government post, orwhether they had given up through superstitious fear, would have beenhard to tell. At any rate, there was nothing to be seen of them. 

Two miles below the two men could see the little post known as MexicanTanks, scattered out in a fertile, cottonwood-grown valley. With oneaccord, they shook hands. 

"Now will yo' believe me, " asked the Texan, "when I tell yo' thatBlizzahd's a smaht hoss?"

Dave Robbins grinned. "So's his master, " he chuckled. "And speakin'o' Blizzard again, I guess we owe him some water and a peck of oats. Reckon we'll find it down there. " His face sobered. "It won't do meany good, Kid, to thank yuh. "

"Don't try, " drawled The Kid. "I'm a soldier of misfohtune, andexcitement's mah business. I'll leave yo' down heah, son. Go to yo'claim on the San Simon and make good--fo' yo' fathah's sake. And goodluck!"

"Yuh won't come along?"

Kid Wolf shook his head and smiled. 

"I'm just a rollin' stone, " he confessed, "and I just naturally rolltoward trouble. If yo' evah need me again, yo'll find me where thelead flies thickest. As soon as I turn this express money ovah to theauthorities, I'll be on my way again. Maybe it'll be the Rio Grande, perhaps the Chisholm Trail, and maybe--well, maybe I'll stay west ofthe Pecos and see what I can see. Quién sabe?"

Blizzard cocked his ears and turned his head to look his master in theeye. Blizzard savvied. He was "in the know. "

THE END.