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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/22057-8.txt b/22057-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..078bb02 --- /dev/null +++ b/22057-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8366 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Kid Wolf of Texas, by Ward M. Stevens + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Kid Wolf of Texas + A Western Story + +Author: Ward M. Stevens + +Release Date: August 26, 2008 [EBook #22057] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KID WOLF OF TEXAS *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + + [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 a +plaintive whistle, leaving the scene more lonely than ever. For a few +moments nothing was to be seen except the endless expanse of +wilderness, and nothing was to be heard save the mournful warble of the +singer. Then a horse and rider were suddenly framed where the sparse +timber opened out upon the plain. + +Together, man and mount made a striking picture; yet it would have been +hard to say which was the more picturesque--the rider or the horse. +The latter was a splendid beast, and its spotless hide of snowy white +glowed in the rays of the afternoon sun. With bit chains jingling, it +gracefully leaped a gully, landing with all the agility of a mountain +lion, in spite of its enormous size. + +The rider, still whistling his Texas tune, swung in the +concha-decorated California stock saddle as if he were a part of his +horse. He was a lithe young figure, dressed in fringed buckskin, +touched here and there with the gay colors of the Southwest and of +Mexico. + +Two six-guns, wooden-handled, were suspended from a cartridge belt of +carved leather, and hung low on each hip. His even teeth showed white +against 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 was +colored with just a trace of Spanish--a musical drawl seldom heard far +from 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 that +men have called the Llano Estacado. The land rose to it in a long +series of steppes with sharp ridges. + +Queerly shaped and oddly colored buttes ascended toward it in a +puzzling tangle. Dim in the distance was the Llano itself--a mesa with +a floor as even as a table; a treeless plain without even a weed or +shrub for a landmark; a plateau of peril without end. + +The rider was doing well to avoid the Llano Estacado. Outlaw Indian +bands roamed over its desolate expanse--the only human beings who could +live there. In the winter, snowstorms raced screaming across it, from +Texas to New Mexico, for half a thousand miles. It was a country of +extremes. In the summer it was a scorching griddle of heat dried out +by dry desert winds. Water was hard to find there, and food still +harder to obtain. And it was now late summer--the season of mocking +mirages and deadly sun. + +The horseman was just about to turn his steed's head directly to the +southward when a sound came to his ears--a cry that made his eyes widen +with horror. + +Few sounds are so thrillingly terrible as the dying scream of a mangled +horse, and yet this was far more awful. Only the throat of a human +being could emit that chilling cry. It rose in shrill crescendo, to +die 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 mortal +agony. + +Giving his mount a touch of spur, the horseman turned the animal +westward toward the Llano Estacado. So horrible were the sounds that +he had paled under his tan. But he headed directly toward the +direction of the cries. He knew that some human being was suffering +frightful 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 with +horror. + +Although accustomed to a hundred gruesome sights in that savage land, +he had never seen one like this. Staked on the ground, feet and arms +wide-stretched, and securely bound, was a man. Or rather, it was a +thing that had once been a man. It was a torture that even the +diabolical mind of an Indian could not have invented. It was the +insane 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. Flies +buzzed, and a raven flapped away, beating the air with its startled +wings. The horseman dismounted, took his water bag from his horse, and +approached the tortured man. + +The moaning man on the ground did not see him, for his eyes were +shriveled. He was blind. + +The youth with the water bag tried to speak, but at first words failed +to come. The sight was too ghastly. + +"Heah's watah," he muttered finally. "Just--just try and stand the +pain 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 a +generous portion of the contents over the shriveled eyes and +skeletonlike face. + +For a while the tortured man could not speak. But while his rescuer +slashed loose the rawhide ropes that bound him, he began to stammer a +few words: + +"Heaven bless yuh! I thought I was dead, or mad! Oh, how I wanted +water! 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 move +his limbs. Groans came from his lips. + +"Shoot me!" he cried. "Put a bullet through me! End this, if yuh've +got any pity for me! I'm blind--dying. I can't stand the pain. Yuh +must 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 was +startin' 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 know +yore name, pard, but----" + +"Call me 'Kid Wolf,'" answered the youth, "from Texas." His eyes had +narrowed at the mention of the name "The Terror." + +"Somethin' on my mind, Kid Wolf. It's that wagon train. The Terror +will wipe it out. Promise me yuh'll try and warn 'em." + +"I promise, old-timah," murmured the Texan. "Only yo' needn't to have +asked that. When yo' first mentioned it, I intended to do it. Where +is this wagon train, sah?" + +In gasps--for his strength was rapidly failing him--the prospector gave +what directions he could. Kid Wolf listened intently, his eyes +blazing-blue coals. + +"I'm passin' in my checks," sighed the sufferer weakly, when he had +given 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 of +misfohtune, goin' through life tryin' to do all I can fo' the weak and +oppressed. I'll risk mah life fo' these people, and heah's mah hand on +that!" + +The prospector groped for his hand, took it, and tried to smile. In a +few moments he had breathed his last, released from his pain. Kid Wolf +removed the bandanna from his own throat and placed it over the dead +man'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," he +sighed, addressing his white horse, "I find somethin' like this. Well, +seems like we hit out across the Llano, aftah all. Let's get a move +on, 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 good +spirits had returned. His voice rose tunefully and cheerily above the +steady drumming of Blizzard's hoofs. + +Surely the scene that lay before his eyes could not have aroused his +enthusiasm. It was lonely and desolate enough, with its endless sweeps +dim against each horizon. The sky, blue, hot and pitiless, came down +to meet the land on every hand, making a great circle unbroken by hill +or mountain. + +So clean-swept was the floor of the vast table-land that each mile +looked 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 the +Spanish padres, who had crossed this enormous plateau long before, had +named it the Llano Estacado--the Staked Plains. They had had a good +reason of their own. In order to keep the trail marked, they had been +compelled to drive stakes in the ground as they went along. Although +the stakes had gone long since, the name still stuck. + +The day before, the Texan had climbed the natural rock steps that led +upward and westward toward the terrible mesa itself, each flat-topped +table bringing him nearer the Staked Plains. And soon after reaching +the plateau he had found the trail left by a wagon train. + +From the ruts left in the soil, Kid Wolf estimated that the outfit must +consist of a large number of prairie schooners, at least twenty. The +Texan puzzled his mind over why this wagon train was taking such a +dangerous route. Where were they bound for? Surely for the Spanish +settlements of New Mexico--a perilous venture, at best. + +Even on the level plain, a wagon outfit moves slowly, and the Texan +gained rapidly. Hourly the signs he had been following grew fresher. +Late in the afternoon he made out a blot on the western horizon--a blot +with a hazy smudge above it. It was the wagon train. The smudge was +dust, dug up by the feet of many oxen. + +"They must be loco," Kid Wolf muttered, "to try and cut across The +Terror's territory." + +The Texan had heard much of The Terror. And what plainsman of that day +hadn't? He was the scourge of the table-lands, with his band of a +hundred cutthroats, desperadoes recruited from the worst scum of the +border. More than half of his hired killers, it was said, were Mexican +outlaws from Sonora and Chihuahua. Some were half-breed Indians, and a +few were white gunmen who killed for the very joy of killing. + +And The Terror himself? That was the mystery. Nobody knew his +identity. Some rumors held that he was a white man; others maintained +that he was a full-blooded Comanche Indian. Nobody had ever seen his +face, for he always was masked. His deeds were enough. No torture was +too cruel for his insane mind. No risk was too great, if he could +obtain loot. With his band behind him, no man was safe on the Staked +Plains. Many a smoldering pile of human bones testified to that. + +As the Texan approached the outfit, he could hear the sharp crack of +the bull whips and the hoarse shouts of the drivers. Twenty-two +wagons, and in single file! Against the blue of the horizon, they made +a pretty sight, with their white coverings. Kid Wolf, however, was not +concerned with the beauty of the picture. Great danger threatened +them, and it was his duty to be of what assistance he could. Touching +his 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 was +the beef herd, on which the outfit depended for food. Behind that was +the rear guard, armed with Winchesters. + +The Texan neared the horseman at the head of the train, raising his arm +in the peace signal. To his surprise, one of the scouts threw up his +rifle! There was a puff of white smoke, and a bullet whistled over Kid +Wolf'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 drew +up in front of them. The Texan found himself covered by half a dozen +Winchesters. + +"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 leader +of this outfit." + +One of the sextet separated himself from the others and came so close +to the Texan that their horses almost touched. + +"I'm in command!" he barked. "My name's Modoc. I'm in charge o' this +train, and takin' it to Sante Fe." + +The man, Modoc, was an impressive individual, bulky and stern. His +face was thinner than the rest of his body, and Kid Wolf was rather +puzzled to read the surly eyes that gleamed at him from under the bushy +black brows. He was more startled still, however, when Modoc whispered +in 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 face +took 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 the +wagon train being led to its doom by a madman? What did Modoc mean by +his low-voiced, mysterious query? Or did he mean anything at all? The +Texan put it down as the raving of a mind unbalanced by hardship and +peril. + +"I suppose yo'-all know," he drawled loudly enough for them all to +hear, "that yo're on the most dangerous paht of the Llano, and that +yo'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 he +got 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're +either a liar or a fool, Kid! And I'd advise yuh to mind yore own +business." + +"Call me 'Wolf,'" said the Texan, a ring of steel in his voice. "I'm +just 'The Kid' to friends. Others call me by mah last name. And +speakin' of the trail, that wasn't the Red Rivah yo' crossed. It was +the Wichita. And yo' must have gone ovah the Wichita Mountains, too." + +"The Wichita!" ejaculated one of the other men. "Why, Modoc, yuh told +us----" + +"And I told yuh right!" said the leader furiously. "I've been over +this route before, and I know just where we are." + +"Yo're in The Terror's territory," drawled The Kid softly. "And I've +heahd from a reliable source that he's planned to raid yo'." + +The others paled at the mention of The Terror. But Modoc raised his +voice 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 might +be a spy for The Terror himself--probably measurin' the strength of our +outfit!" + +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've +trusted yuh so far." + +Modoc grinned, showing a line of broken and tobacco-stained teeth. He +looked 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 bullet +through yuh. Savvy?" + +Kid Wolf decided to make one last appeal. If Modoc were insane, it +seemed terrible that these others should be led to their doom on that +account. Only the Texan could fully appreciate their peril. The wagon +train was loaded with valuable goods, for these men were traders. The +Terror would welcome such plunder, and it was his custom never to leave +a 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 save +yo', and now I'm ready to give mine, if necessary. Let me stay with +yo' and guide yo' to safety, fo' yo' own sakes! Mah two guns are at +yo' service, and if The Terror strikes, I'll help yo' fight." + +The advance guard heard him out. Unbelief was written on all their +faces. + +"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 hurt +him, not on his own account, but because these blindly trusting men +were being deceived. Modoc, whether purposely or not, had led them +astray. + +He was about to ride away when his eyes fell upon the foremost of the +wagons, which was now creaking up, pulled by its straining team. Kid +Wolf gave a start. Thrust out of the opening in the canvas was a +child'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 picturesque +stranger. + +"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 this +little boy would ever reach Santa Fe, or anywhere else. Tears came to +his 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 a +small, 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 the +wagon train, he circled back and drummed west at a furious clip. The +only 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 were +sure to meet with trouble. If he could bring back a company of +soldiers from that Mexican settlement, he might aid them in time. "If +they won't let me help 'em at this end," he murmured, "I'll have to +help 'em at the othah." + + +The town of Santa Fe--long rows of flat-topped adobes nestling under +the mountain--was at that day under Spanish rule. Only a few Americans +then lived within its limits. + +It was a thriving, though sleepy, town, as it was the gateway to all +Chihuahua. A well-beaten trail left it southward for El Paso, and its +main street was lined with cantinas--saloons where mescal and tequila +ran like water. There were gambling houses of ill repute, an open +court for cockfighting, and other pastimes. The few gringos who were +there looked, for the most part, like outlaws and fugitives from the +States. + +It lacked a few hours until sunset when Kid Wolf drummed into the town. +The mountains were already beginning to cast long shadows, and the +sounds of guitars and singing were heard in the gay streets. + +Galloping past the plazas, the Texan at once went to the presidio--the +palace of the governor. It was of adobe, like the rest of the +buildings, but the thick walls were ornately decorated with stone. It +was a fortress as well as a dwelling place, and it contained many +rooms. Several dozen rather ragged soldiers were loafing about the +presidio when Kid Wolf reached it, for a regiment was stationed in the +town. + +Kid Wolf sought an interview with the governor at once, but in spite of +his pleading, he was told to return in two hours. "The most honored +and respected Governor Manuel Quiroz," it seemed, was busy. If the +señor would return later, Governor Quiroz would be highly pleased to +see 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 foods +were being offered for trade or barter. Cooking was even being done in +open-air booths, and the air was heavy with seasoning and spice. Here +and there was a drinking place, crowded with revelers. It was +evidently some sort of feast day in Santa Fe. + +In front of one of the wine shops a little knot of men and soldiers had +gathered. All were flushed with drink and talking loudly in their own +tongue. One of them--a captain in a gaudy uniform--saw the Texan and +made a laughing remark to his companions. + +Kid Wolf's face flushed under its tan. His eyes snapped, but he +continued his walk. He had too much on his mind just then to resent +insults. + +But the captain had noticed his change of expression. The gringo, +then, knew Spanish. His remarks became louder, more offensive. More +than half intoxicated, he called jeeringly: + +"I was just saying, señor, that many men who wear two guns do not know +how to use even one. You understand, señor? Or perhaps the señor does +not 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 he +addressed the Texan. + +"Then, amigo, that is well," he mocked. "Perhaps the señor can shoot +also. Perhaps the señor could do this." + +A peon stood near by, and the captain pulled off the fellow's straw +sombrero and tossed it into the street. The wind caught it and the hat +sailed for some distance. With a quick movement the Spanish captain +drew 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 stroked +his 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 not +care to make a public exhibition of his shooting, especially when he +had graver matters on his mind. But the jeers and taunts that broke +loose from the half-drunken assembly were more than any man could +endure, especially a Texan with fiery Southern blood in his veins. He +turned, smiling. His eyes, however, were as cold as ice. + +"Why," he asked calmly, "should I mutilate this po' man's hat?" His +words were spoken in perfectly accented Spanish. + +"The hat? Ah," mocked the captain, "if the señor hits it, I will pay +for 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 like +thunder--six shots, blended into one stuttering explosion. He had +emptied his gun in a breath! + +A gust of wind blew away the cloud of black powder smoke, and the crowd +stared. 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 game +of 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 to +examine the target. When they had done so, they cried out in +amazement. It was true that just one bullet hole showed in the front +of the sombrero. The captain's shot had drilled that one. Naturally +all 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 bullet +mark! 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 its +approval and enthusiasm. Never had such shooting been seen within the +old city of Santa Fe. + +The Spanish captain, after his first gasp of surprise, had nothing to +say. Chagrin and disgust were written over his face. If ever a man +was crestfallen, the captain was. He hated to be made a fool of, and +this 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 Kid +Wolf 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 flame +leaped from the region of his hip. Along with the crashing roar of the +explosion came a sharp, metallic twang. + +The bullet had neatly clipped away the captain's belt buckle! A yell +of laughter rang out on all sides. For the captain's trousers, +suddenly unsupported, slipped down nearly to his knees. With a cry of +dismay, the disgruntled officer seized them frantically and held them +up. + +"Reach down in those," drawled the Texan, "and see if yo' can't find +that piece of gold!" + +The officer, white with rage in which hearty fear was mingled, obeyed +with alacrity, pulling out a gold coin and handing it, with an oath, to +the 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 sweeping +bow, 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 rode +at once to the governor's palace. + +Although it did not occur to him that Quiroz would reject his plea for +aid, he was filled with foreboding. He had a premonition that made him +uneasy, although there seemed nothing at which to be alarmed. + +Dismounting, he walked up the stone flags toward the presidio +entrance--a huge, grated door guarded by two flashily dressed but +barefooted soldiers. They nodded for him to pass, and the Texan found +himself in a long, half-lighted passage. Another guard directed him +into the office of Governor Quiroz, and Kid Wolf stepped through +another carved door, hat in hand. + +He found that he had entered a large, cool room, lighted softly by +windows of brightly colored glass and barred with wrought iron. The +tiles of the floor were in black-and-white design, and the place was +bare of furniture, except at one end, where a large desk stood. + +Behind it, in a chair of rich mahogany, sat an impressive figure. It +was the governor. + +While bowing politely, the Texan searched the pale face of the man of +whom he had heard so much. By looking at him, he thought he discovered +why Quiroz was so feared by the oppressed people of the district. Iron +strength showed itself in the official's aristocratic features. + +There was something there besides power. Quiroz had eyes that were +mysterious and deep. Not even the Texan could read the secrets they +masked. Cruelty might lurk there, perhaps, or friendliness--who could +say? At the governor's soft-spoken invitation, Kid Wolf took a chair +near the huge desk. + +"Your business with me, señor?" asked the official in smoothly spoken +English. + +Kid Wolf spoke respectfully, although he did not fawn over the +dignitary or lose his own quiet self-assertion. He was an American. +He told of finding the tortured prospector and of the plight of the +approaching wagon train. + +"If they continue on the course they are followin', guv'nor," he +concluded, "they'll nevah reach Santa Fe. And I have every reason to +believe 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 to +them with a company of yo' soldiers." + +"My dear señor," the governor said with suave courtesy, "the people you +wish 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 women +and children in the wagon train." + +Quiroz rubbed his chin as if in thought. His eyes, however, seemed to +smolder 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 the +Lone Star State. From the time of Santa Anna, Texas fighters had been +thorns in their sides. But if Quiroz was thinking of this, he made no +sign. He smiled with pleasure, either real or assumed. + +"That is good," he said. "Señor Wolf, to show your good faith, will +you be kind enough to lay your weapons on my desk? It is a custom here +not to come armed in the presence of the governor." + +Suspicion began to burn strongly in the back of the Texan's brain. Was +Quiroz playing a crafty game? He was supposed to be friendly toward +those from the States, but once before, in California, Kid Wolf had had +dealings 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 of +misfohtune. Anyway, I try and do good. What good I have done fo' the +weak and oppressed, sah, I've done with these." The Kid tapped his +twin Colts and went on: "I've twelve lead aces heah, sah, and I'm not +in 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, I +want a hand to play with." + +His eyes were fixed on the carved front of the governor's desk. There +seemed something strange about the carved design. He was seated +directly 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 had +attracted his attention. + +The desk was carved with a series of squares chiseled deep into the +dark wood. In one of the squares was a black circle about the size of +a 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 to +take chances. Slowly, and with his eyes still on the official's +smiling face, he edged his chair away from it, an inch at a time. His +progress 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 steel +spring. + +The governor moved his knee. There was a sharp report, and a streak of +flame 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 trap +gun. + +Quiroz's death-dealing apparatus had failed. The Texan's cleverness +had matched his own. Concealed in the desk had been a pistol, the +trigger of which had been pressed by the weight of the official's knee +on a secret panel. Quick as a flash, Kid Wolf was on his feet, hands +flashing down toward his two .45s! + +The governor, however, was not in the habit of playing a lone hand +against any antagonist. Behind Kid Wolf rang out a command in curt +Spanish: + +"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 of +Santa Fe with him to death, perhaps cutting down some of the men behind +him, 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 little +golden-haired child crossed his mind. No, while there was life, there +was hope. Slowly he took his hands away from his gun handles and +raised 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 audience +with the governor. Quiroz snarled an order to them. + +"Take away his guns!" he cried. Then, while the Texan was being +disarmed, he took a long black cigarette from a drawer and lighted it +with 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 you +will not like--the adobe wall." Quiroz bowed. "I bid you adios." He +turned to his soldiers. "Take him to the _calabozo_!" he ordered +sharply. + + +The building that was then being used as Santa Fe's prison was +constructed of adobe with tremendously thick walls and no windows. The +only place light and air could enter the sinister building was through +a 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 the +door was being opened, he glanced around him, taking what might prove +to be his last look at the sky. His eyes fell upon one of the walls of +the jail. It was pitted with hundreds of little holes. The Texan +smiled grimly. He knew what had made them--bullets. It was the +execution place! + +The door clanged behind him, and a scene met The Kid's eyes that caused +him 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 and +deliverance. A guttering candle shed a ghastly light over their thin +bodies. + +So this was what his audience with the governor had come to! What a +tyrant Quiroz had proved to be! Strangely enough, The Kid's thoughts +were not of his own terrible plight, but of the peril that awaited the +wagon train. If he could only escape this place, he might at least +help 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, that +Blizzard was free. Nobody could touch him save his master. He was +also sure that the faithful animal awaited his beck and call. The +white horse was somewhere near and on the alert. Kid Wolf had trained +it well. + +He soon saw that escape by ordinary means from the prison was quite +hopeless. There was no guard to overpower, the walls were exceedingly +thick, and the door impregnable. + +Only one of the prisoners, Kid Wolf noted, was an American--a sickly +faced youth of about the Texan's own age. A few questions brought out +the information that all the inmates of the jail were under sentence of +death. + +The hours passed slowly in silent procession while the dying candle +burned low in the poison-laden air. Kid Wolf paced the floor, his eyes +cool and serene. + +His mind, however, was wide awake. When was he to be shot? In the +morning? Or would his execution be delayed, perhaps for days? + +The Texan never gave up hope, and he was doing more than hoping now--he +was planning carefully. Kid Wolf had a hole card. Had the Spanish +soldiers known him better, they would have used more care in disarming +him. But then, enemies of Kid Wolf had made that mistake before, to +their sorrow. + +Clearly enough, he could not help the wagon train where he was. He +must get out. But the only way to get out, it seemed, was to go out +with the firing squad--a rather unpleasant thing to do, to say the +least. + +The tiny grated square in the jail door began to lighten. It grew +brighter. 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, "but +we 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 in +Spanish, "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 beans +meant 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, "and +one black one. We all draw. The man who gets the black bean dies this +morning." + +The hair prickled on the Texan's head. Every morning these +unfortunates were compelled to play a grim game with death. + +The prisoners were all quaking with terror, as they came up to the ugly +red jug to take their chance for life. As much as these miserable men +suffered in this terrible place, existence was still dear to them. + +One soldier shook the beans in the olla; the other stood back against +the wall with leveled gun to prevent any outbreak. Then the lottery +began. + +Kid Wolf viewed the situation calmly, and decided that to try to wrest +the weapon from the soldier would be folly. Other soldiers were +watching through the grated door. + +One by one, the prisoners drew. The opening in the olla was just large +enough for a hand to be admitted. All was blind chance, and no one +could see what he had drawn until his bean was out of the jug. Some of +the peons screamed with joy after drawing their white beans. The black +one was still in the jar. + +The two white men were the last to draw. Both took their beans and +stepped to one side to look at them. It was an even break. Kid Wolf +was smiling; the other was trembling. + +The eyes of Kid Wolf met the fear-stricken eyes of the other. They +stood close together. Each had looked at his bean. The sick man's +face 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 were +cautiously exchanged. Then Kid Wolf turned to the soldiers and +displayed a black bean. + +"Guess I'm the unlucky one." He smiled whimsically. He turned to the +sick boy for a final handshake. "Good luck," he whispered, "and if my +plans fail, adios forever." + +"Come!" ordered a Spanish soldier. + +Waving his hand in farewell, Kid Wolf stepped out to meet the doom that +had been prepared for him. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +SURPRISES + +At the prison door, Kid Wolf was met by a squad of ten soldiers. It +was the firing squad. The Texan fell in step with them and was marched +around the building to the bullet-scarred wall. Kid Wolf faced the +rising sun. Was he now seeing it for the last time? + +If he was afraid, he made no sign. His expression was unruffled and +calm. He was smiling a little, and his arms, as he folded them on his +breast, did not tremble in the slightest. + +The officer who was to have charge of the execution had not yet +appeared on the scene, and the soldiers waited with their rifle stocks +trailing in the sand. + +Then there was a quick bustle. The officer sauntered around the corner +of the building, his bright uniform making a gay sight in the early +sun. He was a captain--the captain whom Kid Wolf had humiliated the +afternoon before! The eyes of the Spanish officer, when they fell upon +his 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 at +this chance to square things with his enemy for good and all. He did +not try to. His laugh was sneering and amused. + +"And to think it will be me--Captain Hermosillo--who will say the word +to fire!" He turned to his soldiers in high good humor and waved his +sword. "At twenty paces," he ordered. "We shall soon see how bravely +the señor dies. Ready!" + +The rifle mechanisms clattered sharply. + +Then the captain turned to his victim, an insolent smile on his cruel +features. "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 is +brave, yes!" he mocked. "He cannot endure seeing the _carabinas_ aimed +at his heart. He wants his eyes bandaged--the _muchos grande +Americano_! Ah, the coward!" He spat contemptuously on the sand. "He +does not know how to face the guns. Well, we will humor him!" + +The captain whipped a silk handkerchief from his pocket and stepped +forward. Kid Wolf's eyes were gleaming with icy-blue lights. This was +the moment he had been waiting for! That handkerchief was a necessary +cog in his carefully laid plans. Captain Hermosillo was soon to learn +just how cowardly this young Texan was. And the surprise was not going +to be pleasant. + +Kid Wolf's hole card was a big bowie knife--the same weapon that had +played such havoc at the Alamo. He carried it in a strange hiding +place--tucked into a leather sheath sewn to the inside of his shirt +collar, between his shoulder blades. That knife had rescued Kid Wolf +from many a tight situation, and he had practiced until he could draw +it with all the speed of heat lightning. + +When the captain placed the handkerchief over his eyes, Kid Wolf +reached back, as if pretending to assist him. Like a flash, his +fingers closed over the bone handle of the knife instead. Hermosillo +found himself with the cold point of the gleaming bowie pressed against +his throat! + +At the same time, Kid Wolf whirled his body about so that the officer +was between him and the firing squad. His left hand held the captain +in a grip of steel; his right held the glittering blade against +Hermosillo's Adam's apple! + +"Throw down yo' rifles and back away from 'em!" Kid Wolfe called to the +soldiers. "Pronto! Or I'll kill yo' captain!" + +Hermosillo gave an agonized yell of fear. In a voice of quaking +terror, he ordered his men to do what Kid Wolf had commanded them. His +breath was coming in wheezing gasps. + +The firing squad, taken aback by this sudden development--for only a +few seconds had passed since The Kid had drawn the knife--hesitated, +and then obeyed. At best, they were none too quick-thinking, and they +saw 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 good +hitting range. Then he lashed out at him with his hard fist, catching +the fear-crazed officer directly on the point of the jaw. Many pounds +of lean muscle were behind the blow, and Hermosillo landed ten feet +away in a cloud of dust. + +The Texan lost no time in whirling on his feet and sprinting for the +corner of the building. He reached it just in time to bump into +another officer, who was just then arriving on the scene. Kid Wolf +snatched the pistol from his belt and sent him up against the wall with +a jar. Before the disarmed Spaniard knew what had happened, he was +sitting on the ground, nursing a bruised jaw, and Kid Wolf was gone! + +The Texan found the streets deserted at that early hour. Racing across +the 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 running +down another street like a white snowstorm. + +Kid Wolf ran to meet the horse. A sharp rattle of rifle fire rang out +behind him. The soldiers had given chase! A bullet zipped the stone +flags under his feet; another smacked solidly into the corner of an +adobe house. + +The alarm had been given. Two gayly uniformed officers ran into the +street from the direction of the presidio. They were trying to head +the Texan off, attempting to get between him and his horse. + +But Blizzard was coming at too hot a pace. The two Spaniards cut in +just as Kid Wolf leaped to the saddle. He fired the pistol's single +barrel at one of the officers, and hurled the useless weapon into the +other's face. + +"Come on, Blizzahd!" Kid Wolf sang out. "Let's go from heah!" + +The powerful animal's hoofs thundered against the flagstones, leaped a +stone wall, and charged down the street. Behind them, already +organized, came the pursuit. To Kid Wolf's ears came the whine of +bullets. + +"From now on," he cried to his plunging horse, "it all depends on +yo'-all! Burn that wind!" + +Once Blizzard had hit his stride, Kid Wolf knew that no horse in Santa +Fe could catch him. Striking off to the eastward in the direction of +the Staked Plains, the Texan gave his animal free rein. + +The pursuit was dropping behind, a few yards at a time. Instead of +buzzing around his ears now, the bullets were falling short, kicking up +spurts of dust. The cries in angry Spanish grew fainter until they +died into a confused hubbub. Kid Wolf had left the town behind him and +was racing out over the level plain. Looking back, he could see a +score or more of brown clouds--dirt stirred by the horsemen who were +now almost lost from view. These dwindled. In an hour only half a +dozen riders remained on his trail. Blizzard was still going strong. + +Out on the great Llano Estacado, The Kid managed, by superior +horsemanship, to give the balance of his pursuers the slip. When he +had succeeded in confusing them, he slowed his faithful mount down for +a needed rest. And now where was the wagon train? Where was he to +find it? A chill raced down his spine. Had The Terror already struck? +The thought of the women and children in the hapless outfit filled him +with a feeling akin to panic. He must find the wagon train. It might +not yet be too late. + +Kid Wolf was a plainsman. He could locate water where none appeared to +exist; he could discover game when older men failed; and he could +follow a course on the limitless prairie as surely as a sailor could +navigate 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 left +it. In this way he fixed a point in his mind--an imaginary dot that he +must reach if he meant to find the prairie schooners. If Modoc--the +leader of the outfit--had kept to his original course, The Kid could +not fail to meet them. + +Accordingly, Kid Wolf traveled all the rest of that day in a straight +line, marking his course by the sun. He stopped only once at noon for +water and a short rest, going on again until dusk. + +At nightfall, he made camp and lay awake, looking at the stars +overhead. 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 just +obstinacy? If the latter, what had he meant by his strange expression: +"What color will the moon be to-night?" Kid Wolf thought for a long +time and then gave it up. + +He did not fear any further pursuit by the Spanish soldiers. The trail +he had left behind was too puzzling; he had taken care of that. +Besides, he knew that the average Spaniard feared the Apache and the +other Indian tribes that infested portions of the Staked Plains. If +there 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 in +the saddle again. The day promised to be hot. The midsummer sun had +burned the grass to a crisp brown. By midday, mirages began to show in +hollows. Heat flickered. Both horse and rider drank at a pool of +yellow-brown water and pressed on. + +Late in the afternoon, Kid Wolf made out a faint white line on the far +horizon. It was the wagon train! He sighed with relief. The Terror, +then, had not yet raided it. For The Terror left only destruction in +his wake. Had he already plundered it, he would have burned the wagons +to the ground. + +Increasing his speed, Kid Wolf rapidly approached it. As he came +nearer, he saw that the outfit was in the center of a field of alkali +and 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 recognized +him at once. Modoc started to raise his rifle. One of the others +struck the weapon down. Obviously the train commander had lost some of +his influence. Another of the pathfinders shouted for Kid Wolf to come +on. A dozen of the travelers left their wagons and came forward. This +time they seemed glad to see Kid Wolf. + +"Yuh was right, after all!" one of them cried. "Modoc led us out of +the way. We're lost!" + +"I meant all right," Modoc grumbled. "I did my best--must have made a +mistake somewhere. I'll find the trail, never worry. And if yuh take +my advice, yuh'll drive this four-flusher away from here! He don't +mean 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 we +believe he's our friend." He turned to the Texan. "Yuh can consider +yoreself in command here now," he added. + +Modoc trembled with ungovernable anger, but, outnumbered as he was, he +could say nothing. Sulkily he returned to his own wagon. + +From the drivers, Kid Wolf learned a story of hardship and semi +starvation. Indians had driven away their beef herd, leaving them +without food. All day they had had nothing to eat, and were at the +point of killing and devouring prairie dogs. The water, too, was +bad--so full of alkali as nearly to be undrinkable, and as bitter as +gall. + +Kid Wolf lost no time in taking the situation in hand. His own +provisions he turned over to the women and children of the outfit. +Then he changed the course of the train so that it led toward +civilization. At nightfall they made camp by a pool of fair drinking +water. The outfit told him that as yet they had seen no sign of The +Terror. + +"Probably we won't," said one. + +Kid Wolf was not so optimistic. That night he borrowed two .45 Colt +revolvers from the wagon-train supplies. He selected them with extreme +care, testing them by shooting at marks. So accurate was his shooting +that the men of the outfit could not conceal their admiration. The +first weapon he tried threw the shots an inch or two to one side, but +he finally obtained a pair that worked perfectly. Then he sanded the +wooden 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's +suggestion. On that wide plain a light showed for many miles, and it +was 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 the +wagon train, he suddenly stopped in his tracks and sniffed. There was +no mistaking the delicious odor. It made Kid Wolf hungry. It was +frying meat. The Texan quietly aroused some of the men and led them to +one 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-train +commander had a shielded lantern burning inside, and he was in the act +of eating a big supper! When he saw that he had visitors, he tried to +reach the gun belt he had hung up at one end of the wagon. Kid Wolf +was 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 wondered +why 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 of +dried beef and other provisions. It was Modoc's little private supply. + +"We'll divide it up with everybody in the mohnin'," suggested the +Texan, "with a double allowance fo' the children and the women." + +The wagon men were so furious at Modoc's selfishness that they could +have torn him to pieces. Kid Wolf, however, prevented the trouble that +was brewing. + +"Every one to their blankets, men," he said. "We can't affohd to fight +among ouahselves just now." + +When the camp was asleep again, he took up his lonely vigil. The night +was pitch black, without moon or stars. A wind whispered softly across +the great Llano. + +Suddenly The Kid's attention was attracted by something on the western +horizon. It seemed to be in the sky--a faint red glow, across which +shadows appeared to move like phantoms. Like a picture from the ghost +world, it flickered for a few minutes like heat lightning, then +disappeared, leaving the night as dark as before. It was a night +mirage, and something more than an optical illusion. It was a rare +thing on the plain. The Kid knew that it meant something. That glow +was 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 while +I'm gone. I'm on a little scoutin' pahty of mah own. It might be that +Quiroz 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 his +horse just a touch of the spur--that was always enough for +Blizzard--and they proceeded to split the wind. The horse was as +sure-footed as a cat, and was not an animal to step into a prairie-dog +hole, even on a black night. Blizzard had ample rest and water, and +was never fresher. He ran like a greyhound. + +Kid Wolf never forgot that gallop across the Llano by night. It was +like running full tilt against an ever-opening velvet curtain. He +could hardly see his horse's head. + +Blizzard's hoofs pounded on and on across the level plateau. Miles +disappeared under his flying feet, while Kid's keen eyes were fastened +on the horizon ahead. Finally he made out an orange glow--a light that +changed 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 no +sound. Not once did his high-heeled boots snap a weed or rustle the +dried grass. He would not have been more silent had he been wearing +moccasins. + +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 restless +horses, and the men were thick around the fire. A conference of some +kind was being held. + +The Texan approached closer and closer, all eyes and ears. If he could +discover the identity of this band and something of their plans---- + +Suddenly a sentry rose up from the grass not a yard from him. His eyes +fell upon the intruder, and his mouth flew open. In his hand was a +short-barreled carbine. + +The Texan seized him, dodged under the half-raised weapon and cut off +the man's cry with the pressure of a muscular hand. He fought +noiselessly, and the sentry--a Mexican--was no match for him. Throwing +him to the ground, Kid Wolf gagged him with the man's own gayly colored +scarf. Then he bound him securely, using the sentry's sash and carbine +strap. + +Kid Wolf exchanged his hat for the Mexican's steep-crowned sombrero and +picked up the carbine. In this guise he could approach the camp with +comparative safety. Pulling the sombrero over his eyes, he came in +closer to the camp fire. As he did so, a trio of men--two white men +and one half-breed--came into the camp from another direction. The Kid +heard 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 had +asked 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 and +approached the ring around the fire. + +There was no doubt now that he was in the camp of The Terror! The men +outlined in the ruddy fire-light were desperadoes. Never had the Texan +seen such a gathering. Some were American gunmen, evil-faced and +heavily armed. Others were Mexicans and Indians. There was a +tenseness 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 the +glowing fire. + +The man was talking and seemed to be in authority. He was dressed in a +red Mexican coat, rich silver-trimmed pantaloons, and carried a brace +of gold-mounted pistols. His face was covered with a mask of black +velvet. Instinctively Kid Wolf knew that he was looking at the dread +scourge of the Llano Estacado--The Terror of the Staked Plains! The +bandit, then, kept himself masked even in front of his own men! Kid +Wolf, as he listened, grew tense. His eyes were shining with snapping +blue fire. The Terror was planning a raid upon the wagon train! His +voice, cold and deadly, came to Kid Wolf's ears: + +"Everything, then, caballeros, is arranged. We strike at dawn and wipe +them out, sparing nobody. If a man escapes, you are all running a +risk, for some of you might be identified. Man, woman, and child, they +must die! Our man, of course, you all know. Do not fire on him." + +Kid Wolf listened to that sinister voice and wondered what the face +behind the mask looked like. The bandit leader had no more soul than a +rattler, and one might expect more mercy from a wolf. And Kid Wolf +already knew whom The Terror meant when he spoke of "our man." Anger +shook the Texan from head to foot. He had learned enough. The bandits +were already about to mount their horses in order that they might reach +the wagon train at daybreak. There was no time to lose. He must get +back to the helpless outfit ahead of them. + +Sauntering carelessly, he slipped out of the circle about the fire and +made his way out of the camp without being noticed. Once out of the +range of the firelight, he raced into the darkness for his horse. + +Blizzard was waiting patiently. He had not moved from his tracks. An +ordinary animal might have nickered upon scenting other horses, but +Blizzard had been trained otherwise. Kid Wolf leaped into the saddle, +slapped his mount gently on the neck, and was swallowed up in the night +as Blizzard answered the summons. + + +The east was a pale line against the dark of the prairie night when +Blizzard drummed up to the sleeping wagon train with his rider. It +still lacked a half hour until the dawn. + +The Texan sent the sentries to arouse every available fighting man in +the 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 their +hands. It was just light enough now to see. Modoc ran out of his +wagon, strapping on his Colt .45 as he came. He advanced toward the +Texan 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 a +wolf. "Has this four-flusher been up to his tricks again?" + +Kid Wolf's voice came cool and calm. "Modoc," he drawled, "what color +will the moon be to-night?" + +Modoc's face went the color of putty. Like a flash, the insolence had +gone out of his eyes, to be replaced with fear. He moistened his lips +feverishly. + +"I--I don't know what yo're talkin' about," he stammered. + +"Are yo' sure," said Kid Wolf with deadly quietness, "that the moon +won't be red?" + +Modoc began to tremble like a leaf. His gun hand moved part way to his +hip, then stopped. Beads of perspiration stood out on his clammy +forehead. + +"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 like +rats." + +Modoc's face was blue-white as Kid Wolf continued: + +"When I first showed up, Modoc thought I might be one of The Terror's +messengahs. I didn't come through with the password, and he learned +different. I didn't know what he meant, then, but I know now!" + +The wagon men surged around Modoc threateningly. Fury was written over +the faces of them all. There were cries of "Kill him!" "Hang the +traitor!" + +Kid Wolf still faced the fear-frozen Modoc, smiling coolly. There was +quiet menace in that easy smile. + +"I usually shoot the head off a rattlesnake when I see one," he said +softly. "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 gentleman +alongside 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 hand +streaked for his hip. But Kid Wolf had drawn a split second later and +more than a split second faster. The fingers of his right hand closed +upon the handle of one of his twin Colts. In the same instant, fire +flew! + +With the first explosion, Modoc grunted with pain, dropping his gun. +The bullet had caught him squarely in the wrist, rendering his fingers +useless. But Kid Wolf kept firing, although he did not aim for Modoc's +head or body. His gun flashed and stuttered twice, three times, +four--five--six! Dust flew from Modoc's coat sleeve as the bullets +landed with a series of terrific smashes. As he had torn the +rattlesnake bit by bit, Kid Wolf ripped Modoc's gun arm. + +Each bullet took effect, and Modoc staggered from the impacts, knees +slumping to the ground. The traitor would never use that gun arm +again. It dangled from his body, broken and useless. The others would +have literally torn Modoc limb from limb had not the Texan ordered +otherwise. + +"He doesn't deserve hangin'," he said, "so let him be. We've got work +to do. The Terror and his gang will be here at any minute. Now listen +carefully to what I say." + +Quietly he gave his orders, and just as carefully, the wagon men +carried them out. Under Kid Wolf's masterly leadership they had +regained their nerve. Panic left them, and they became grim and +determined. + +The Kid learned that there were thirty-four men in the outfit. +Thirty-four against at least a hundred! The odds were great, but the +Texan had faced greater ones alone. With the train in the hands of +Modoc--one of their own men--the marauders expected to take the outfit +by surprise. Thanks to the Texan, all that was changed now. He gave +orders that the wagons be shifted into a circle, with the children and +women on the inside behind shelter. The men were posted in the wagons +and behind them, Kid Wolf giving each man his station. + +"Do not fiah until I give the coyote yell," he said. "And then keep +yo' sights down. Shoot low!" + +Kid Wolf himself took a position between two of the covered wagons, his +horse Blizzard within quick call. In the narrow chink, just wide +enough 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 the +wagons had been shifted when Kid Wolf saw a body of horsemen +approaching from the west. It was The Terror's band! Dust stirred by +the hoofs of a hundred galloping horses rose in the air like brown +thunderclouds. + +As the grim defenders watched, the band split up, divided into two +rapidly moving lines, and began to surround the train in a sweeping +circle. The circle formed, began to close in. Kid Wolf peered along +the barrel of one of the Sharps rifles. Then, after what seemed +minutes, he uttered his coyote cry: + +"Yip, yip, yip-ee!" + +It was followed by a terrific burst of fire from the wagon train. The +signal had been given at the opportune time. The bandits faltered. +They hadn't expected this! The Terror had hoped to find the wagon +train still asleep and defenseless. The rolling powder smoke cleared +away somewhat, and it could be seen that a dozen or more of the +attackers had melted out of their saddles, like butter on a hot stove. + +But the raiders, outnumbering the defenders and realizing it, still +came on. Kid Wolf threw aside the rifle and drew his twin .45s. +Deliberately stepping out into the open, he fanned the hammers from the +level of his hip. His waistline, as he swung the thundering Colts from +side to side, seemed to be alive with sputtering red sparks. Smoke +rolled around him. The bandits in front of him dropped by twos and +threes. + +Holes appeared in this side of the bandits' circle--holes that did not +close up. Riderless mounts dashed about frantically, their reins +trailing; 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, Kid +Wolf ran across to reenforce the other sides of the circle. At one +point the outlaws had already broken through the circle of wagons. Kid +Wolf sent three screaming slugs toward them, and they fell back in +disorder, leaving one desperado stretched out behind them. + +Reloading his guns, Kid Wolf climbed upon one of the wagons and again +opened fire; this time with such an effect that all sides of the +attacking circle began to break and fall back to safety. Mere force of +numbers does not always count in a gun fight. Not more than half a +dozen of the defenders had been hit. The survivors raised a hearty +cheer. Kid Wolf's generalship had beaten back the first outlaw charge! + +It was then that Modoc played his final card. Hoping to gain the +protection of the outlaws, and fearing the wagon train's vengeance, he +slipped out of the circle of covered wagons and, on foot, began +running. His goal was ahead of him, but he never reached it. His late +comrades--the bandits--evidently thought he had played the traitor with +them, for they fired on him relentlessly. He fell, then rose again to +scramble on. Bullets kicked up the sod around him. Others plumped +into his body. Again he fell, this time to stay. His body was riddled +with 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 a +counter-charge. He knew that it might break down the courage of the +bandit band. At least it would be a surprise. He called for +volunteers. + +"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 for +their 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 the +covered-wagon tops, smashed into wheels and wagon trees, and kicked up +geysers of sand. They would be hard to stop this time! + +But Kid Wolf gave the word for his own charge. He had several reasons +for doing this. It amounted to folly in the eyes of some, but the +Texan knew the value of a countercharge. And if he could bring down +The Terror himself, he knew the battle was as good as won. Out of the +wagon circle they came, saddle leather creaking and guns blazing! The +Kid, on his snow-white charger, was in the lead. A lane opened in the +bandit ranks as if by magic. + +Kid Wolf pressed his quick advantage. His movement had taken the +outlaw band by surprise. The utter recklessness of it shook their +nerve. + +Two of the wagon men fell. The others kept on, clearing a swathe with +their sputtering Colts. + +The bandits hesitated. The defenders who had remained behind the +wagons kept up their deadly barrage. They were dropping accurately +placed shots where they would be sure to do the most good. Then The +Terror's band retreated, broke formation. The retreat became a rout--a +mad get-away with every man for himself. Outnumbered as they were, the +defenders were making more than a good account of themselves. + +Kid Wolf's eyes sought for The Terror himself--and found him. His red +coat 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, wildly +attempting to get the drop on Kid Wolf as he came in. One of his +gold-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 a +fight to the end. He fired his other weapon almost in the Texan's +face. The Kid, however, had pulled the trigger of his own gun just a +fraction of a second before. The Terror's aim was spoiled just enough +so that the bullet whined wide. The bandit chief collapsed in his +saddle. He had been hit in the shoulder. + +The Texan closed in. There was a violent shock as Blizzard thudded +into the bandit's horse. The Terror, eyes glittering wickedly through +the openings in his velvet mask, slid from his horse, landing feet +first. With a glittering knife in his unwounded hand, he made a spring +toward Kid Wolf. The blade would have buried itself in the Texan's +thigh 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 use +his 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 of +any weapons. With a snarl, the bandit chief leaped forward, knife +swishing aloft. Never had Kid Wolf struck so hard a blow as he struck +then! Added to the power of his own tremendous strength and leverage +was The Terror's own speed as he lunged in. Fist met jaw with a +sickening thud. + +The Terror was a big and heavy man. His weight was added to Kid Wolf's +as both men came together. There was a snap as his head went +back--went back at too great an angle. His neck was broken instantly. +Without a moan, the bandit chief dropped limply to the sand, dead +before he ever reached it! + +Kid Wolf took a deep breath. Then he bent over the fallen man and +jerked the velvet mask from his features. He gasped in amazement. It +was Quiroz! For a moment the Texan could not believe his eyes. Then +the truth began to dawn on him. The Terror and the tyrannical governor +of Santa Fe were one and the same! Quiroz had led a double life for +years, and had covered his tracks well. So powerful had he become that +he had received the appointment as governor. No wonder he had refused +Kid Wolf aid! And no wonder he had sought his life! + +"Well, I guess his account is paid," said Kid Wolf grimly. "The Terror +of the Staked Plains is no more." + +He looked about him. The remainder of the bandits had made a thorough +retreat, leaving a large number of their companions on the plain behind +them. 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 people +of 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's +company. He had saved them from death--and worse. Not only that, but +they had learned to like him and depend on him. + +The Texan, however, declined to stay longer. Nor would he listen to +any thanks. + +"Adios," he called, "and good luck! Wheahevah the weakah side needs a +champion, 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 the +wagons. + +"Good-by, Jimmy Lee!" he called. + +He whirled in his saddle, touched Blizzard with the reins, and rode +away at a long lope. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +ON THE CHISHOLM TRAIL + +From the sweeps of high country bordering close upon Santa Fe, it was +no easy journey to the Chisholm Trail, even for a trail-eating horse of +Blizzard's caliber. But The Kid had taken his time. His ultimate +destination, unless fate altered his plans, was his own homeland--the +sandy Rio Grande country. + +More than anything else, it was the thirst for adventure that led the +buckskin-clad rider to the beaten cattle road which cut through +wilderness and prairie from Austin to the western Kansas beef markets. + +And now, after following the trail for one uneventful day, Kid Wolf had +left it--in search of water. A line of lofty cottonwoods on the +eastern horizon marked the course of a meandering stream and The Kid +had been glad of the chance to turn Blizzard's head toward it. Horse +and rider, framed in the intense blue of the western sky, formed a +picture of beauty and grace as they drummed through the unmarked +wastes. The Kid, riding "light" in his saddle, his supple body rising +and falling with the rhythm of his loping mount and yet firm in his +seat, dominated that picture. His face was tanned to the color of the +buckskin shirt he wore, and a vast experience, born of hardship and +danger on desert and mountain, was in his eyes--eyes that were +sometimes gray and sometimes steely blue. Just now they were as +carefree as the skies above. + +A stranger might have wondered just what Kid Wolf's business was. He +did not appear to be a cow-puncher, or a trapper or an army scout. A +reata was coiled at his saddle, and two big Colts swung from a beaded +Indian belt. No matter how curious the stranger might be, he would +have thought twice before asking questions. + +The horse, in color like snow with the sun on it, was splitting the +breeze--and yet the stride was easy and tireless. Blizzard, big and +immensely strong, was as fast as the winds that swept the Panhandle. + +The stream, Kid Wolf discovered, was a fairly large creek bordered with +a wild tangle of bushes, vines, and creeper-infested trees. It was no +easy matter to force one's way through the choked growth, especially +without 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 through +underbrush, even while on horseback. The country of the Indian +Nations, at that time, was a territory infested with peril. And even +now, although he seemed to be alone on the prairie, he was cautious. + +Some distance before he reached it, he saw the creek, swollen and brown +from rains above. So quiet was his approach that even a water +moccasin, sunning itself on the river bank, did not see him. + +Suddenly the white horse pricked up its ears. Kid Wolf, too, had heard +the sound, and he pulled up his mount to watch and listen, still as a +statue. + +Splash! Splash! A rider was bringing his horse down to the creek at a +walk. The sounds came from above and from across the stream. The +water on that side had overflowed its bank and lay across the sand in +blue puddles. In a few minutes Kid Wolf caught sight of a man on a +strawberry 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, even +before his quick muscles could act in time to save the newcomer it had +happened. From behind a bush clump, a figure had popped up, rifle +leveled. 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 pitched +headlong 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 frightened +pony 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 a +half-breed Indian. The dying sun glistened on his coppery, strongly +muscled flesh, for he was stripped to the waist. He wore trousers and +a hat, but his hair hung nearly to his shoulders in a coarse snarl, and +his feet were shod with dirty moccasins. + +Kid Wolf's eyes crackled. He had seen deliberate murder committed, an +unsuspecting 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 nothing +soft about his tone. The half-breed whirled about, then slowly +loosened his hold on his gun. It thudded to the grass. On a line with +his 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 Kid +did not shoot or seem to be about to do so, they began to glitter with +mockery. 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 do +about 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 to +bulge; his tongue protruded. With all his strength he struggled, but +Kid 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 about +it!" The Kid declared. + +The half-breed's yell was wild and unearthly, when the grip at his +throat was released. All the fight was taken out of him. Kid Wolf +shook him until his teeth rattled, picked him up bodily and hurled him +across his saddle. + +"I'm takin' yo' to the law," he drawled. "I might kill yo' now and be +justified, 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, men +make their own commandments. + +"Theah's a new town, I hear, not far from heah--Midway, I think they +call it," he drawled. "Yo're goin' theah with me, and if theah's no +law in Midway, I'll see that some laws are passed. And yo' won't need +that, eithah!" he added suddenly. + +The knife that the half-breed had attempted to draw tinkled to the +ground as The Kid gave the treacherous wrist a quick twist. + +"Step along, Blizzahd," sang out Kid Wolf in his Southern drawl. "Back +to 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 to +one of snakelike cunning. But if The Kid noted his half-concealed +smile, he paid no attention to it. They were soon on their way. + +Always, even in the savage lands beyond civilization, Kid Wolf tried to +take sides with the weak against the strong, with the right against the +wrong. And on more than one occasion he had found himself in hot water +because of it. + +The average man of the plains, upon seeing the murder committed, would +have considered it none of his business, and would have let well enough +alone. Another type would have killed the half-breed on general +principles. Kid Wolf however, determined that the murderer would be +given a fair trial and then punished. + +Again striking the Chisholm Trail--a well-beaten road several hundred +yards wide--he veered north. Thousands upon thousands of longhorns +from Texas and New Mexico had beaten that trail. This was the halfway +point. Kid Wolf had heard of a new settlement in the vicinity, and, +judging from the landmarks, he estimated it to be only a few miles +distant. + +In the meantime, the sun went down, creeping over the level horizon to +leave the world in shadows which gradually deepened into dusk. All the +while, the half-breed maintained a stoical silence. Kid Wolf, keeping +a careful eye on him, but ignoring him otherwise, hummed a fragment of +song: + + "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 The +Kid 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, or +camp 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 by +its light, as well as the few lights of the town, he could see that the +word "town" flattered the place known as "Midway." + +There were a few scattered sod houses, and on the one street were two +large buildings, facing each other on opposite sides of the road. The +first was a saloon, brilliantly lighted in comparison to the +semidarkness of the other, which seemed to be a general store. A sign +above it read: + + THE IDEL HOUR SALOONE + + +Below it, in similar letters, the following was spelled out, or rather +misspelled: + + JACK HARDY + OWNER AND PROPRIATER + + +As the only life of Midway seemed to be centered here, Kid Wolf drew up +his horse, Blizzard, dismounted, and dragged his prisoner to the +swinging green doors that opened into the Idle Hour Saloon. + +Pushing the half-breed through by main strength, he found himself in a +big room, lighted by three oil lamps and reflectors suspended from +beams in the roof. For all the haze of tobacco smoke, the place was +agleam with light. For a moment Kid Wolf stood still in astonishment. + +To find such a group of men together at one place, and especially such +a remote place, was surprising. A score or more of booted-and-spurred +loungers were at the bar and at the gambling tables. A roulette wheel +was spinning at full clip, its little ivory ball dancing merrily, and +at other tables were layouts of faro and various games of chance. +Cards were being riffled briskly at a poker game near the door, and a +little knot of men were in a corner playing California Jack. + +Kid Wolf took in these details at a glance. What puzzled him was that +these men did not appear to be cattlemen or followers of any calling, +unless possibly it was the profession of the six-gun. All were heavily +armed, and although that fact in itself was by no means unusual, The +Kid did not like the looks of several of the men he saw there. Some +were half-breeds of his prisoner's own stripe. + +At The Kid's entrance with his still-struggling prisoner, every one +stared. The bartender--a bulky fellow with a scarred face--paused in +the act of pouring a drink, his eyes widening. The quiet shuffle of +cards ceased, the wheel of fortune slowed to a clicking stop, and every +one looked up in sudden silence. + +Kid Wolf dragged the half-breed to the center of the room, holding him +by 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 approaching +trouble. Was it his imagination, or was a look flashed between the +half-breed and several of the men in the room? He sensed an alert +tenseness in the faces of those who were listening. One of the men, +whom the Kid immediately put down as the owner of the saloon--Jack +Hardy--was staring insolently. + +Hardy was flashily dressed, wearing fancy-stitched riding boots, a +fancy vest, and a short black coat, under which peeped the butt of a +silver-mounted .44. Kid Wolf's intuition told him that he was the man +he must eventually deal with. + +The saloon owner had been watching the faro game. Now, having heard +Kid Wolf out, he turned his back and deliberately faced the layout +again. + +"Go on with the game," he sneered to the dealer. + +There was a world of contempt in his silky voice, and Kid Wolf flushed +under his tan. Hardy pretended to ignore the visitor completely. The +faro dealer slid one card and then another from his box; the case +keeper moved a button or two on his rack. Then the dealer raked in the +winnings from the losers. The game was going on as usual. The +gamblers, taking their cue from Jack Hardy, turned to their games +again. It was as if Kid Wolf had never existed. + +The Kid took a firmer hold on the wriggling half-breed. "Do yo' know +this 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. The +lookout 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 dishonest +and unfriendly toward law and order. + +"I want yo' to understand me," he said in a voice he tried to make +patient. "This hombre--Tucumcari Pete, yo've called him--shot and +killed a man from ambush. Isn't there any law heah?" + +With long, tapered fingers, Jack Hardy rolled a cigarette, placed it +between his lips and leered insultingly. + +"There's only one law in Midway," he laughed evilly, "and that law is +that all strangers must attend to their own business. Now I don't know +who yuh are, but----" + +"I'm Kid Wolf," came the soft-spoken drawl, "from Texas. My enemies +usually 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 in +the Kid's hand as he passed by. So quickly was it done that nobody, it +seemed just then, had seen the movement. Kid Wolf's heart gave a +little 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 paper +ball? + +Hardy's eyes met the Texan's. They were insect eyes, beady and +glittering black. + +"All right," he snarled. "Mr. Wolf, you clear out!" + +The Texan's fiery Southern temper had reached its breaking point. It +snapped. In a twinkling, things were happening. Using quick, almost +superhuman strength, he picked up the half-breed by the neck and one +leg and hurled him, like a thunderbolt, into the group at the faro +table! + +Tucumcari Pete's wild yell was drowned out by the tremendous crash of +splintering wood and thudding flesh, as the half-breed's body hurtled +through the air to smash Jack Hardy down to the floor with the impact. + +The table went into kindling wood; chips and markers flew! A chair +banged against the lookout's high perch, just as he was bringing his +sawed-off shotgun to his shoulder. + +_Br-r-r-ram, bang!_ The double charge went into the ceiling, as the +lookout toppled to the floor to join his companions, now a mass of +waving arms and legs. + +Kid Wolf's twin .45s had come out as if by magic. He ducked low. He +did not need eyes in the back of his head to know that the men at the +bar would open fire at the drop of the hat! A bullet winged venomously +over him. Another one whined three inches from his ear. At the same +instant, a bottle, hurled by the bartender, smashed to fragments +against the wall. + +But with one quick spring, Kid Wolf had his back against the +green-shuttered door. For the first time, his Colts splattered red +flame and smoke. There were three distinct reports, but they came so +rapidly that they blended into one sullen, ear-shattering roar. He had +aimed at the swinging lamps, and they went out so quickly that it +seemed 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 as +well as the othah kind!" + +A score of revolver slugs, aimed at the sound of his voice, sent +showers 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 nowhere +to be seen! + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +M'CAY'S RECRUIT + +The Texan, after circling the town of Midway, rode in again. It was +not his way to leave a job unfinished, with only a threat behind. The +cigarette-paper note had aroused his curiosity to a fever heat. He +read it by the light of the moon. It consisted of three +pencil-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? He +dismissed the latter possibility and decided to go at once to the big +frame general store, using all the caution possible. + +Approaching the place from behind, he looked it over carefully before +dismounting. As Blizzard was conspicuous in the moonlight, he left him +in a thick clump of bushes and slipped through the shadows on foot. As +he 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 of +logs. It was so planned that a handful of defenders might hold it +against great odds. + +As Kid Wolf knocked softly on the rear door, he wondered if it had been +built merely as a security against the renegade Indians, or for some +other and deeper purpose. For a few minutes after he knocked, there +was silence, then the door slowly opened. The Texan found himself +looking into the barrel of a .45! + +"What do yuh want here?" + +Framed in the doorway, the Kid saw a grim young face glaring at him +over 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've +got it!" + +But it didn't. Kid Wolf's left hand snapped up under the gun and +rapped smartly at just the right spot the wrist that held it. It was a +trick blow--one that paralyzed the nerves for a second. The Colt +dropped from the boy's quickly extended fingers and fell neatly into +Kid Wolf's right hand! All had happened so quickly that the youth +hadn't time to squeeze the trigger. Before the amazed young man could +recover himself, the Texan handed over the gun, butt first. + +"Here yo' are," he drawled humorously. "To show yo' I mean well, I'm +givin' it back. I do wish, though, that yo'd kindly point it some +other way while I'm talkin'." + +The manner of the other changed at this. After losing his gun, he had +expected a quick bullet. + +"Guess yo're all right," he grinned slowly. "Come on in." + +Passing through the door, Kid Wolf noted the thick loophole-pierced +walls and other provisions for defense. Rifles stood on their stocks +at intervals, ready to be snatched up at a moment's notice. + +"Oh, dad!" the youth called in a low voice, as they entered the big +main room of the building. + +Six men were in the place, and The Kid took stock of them with one +appraising glance. Although just as heavily armed as the faction +across the street in the Idle Hour had been, they were of a different +type. They were cattlemen, some old, some young. All looked up, +startled. One of them got to his feet. He was a huge man and very +fat. His face was round and good-humored, although his puckered blue +eyes told of force and character. + +"What's the matter, 'Tip'?" he asked of Kid Wolf's escort. "Who is +this man?" + +The Texan smiled and bowed courteously. "Maybe I should explain, sah," +he drawled. "And aftah I'm done, perhaps yo'll have some information +to give me." + +He began his story, but was soon interrupted by an exclamation of anger +and grief from the boy's father. + +"A man on a strawberry roan, yuh say? And murdered! Why, that was +Hodgson--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 saloon +across the street, and of his reception there. + +"They-all told me to cleah out," he finished whimsically, "so I cleahed +out 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 gave +yuh that? I thought so! That was George Durham--one o' my men. He's +there 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 the +Texan's story, came forward to shake hands. They were introduced as +Caldwell, Anderson, Blake, Terry White, and "Scotty." All were +keen-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 can +find out why Jack Hardy has imported those gunmen, and what he plans to +do. 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 I +sell '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 in +stolen herds on a large scale. He's swore to get me, at the time when +it'll do him the most good. In other words, at the time when he can +get the most loot. + +"So far," McCay went on, "there's been no bloodshed. To-day it seems +he'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 rode +south on the Chisholm Trail this mornin'." + +"What does that signify?" + +"Plenty," McCay explained. "Six o' my men are drivin' fifteen hundred +steers up this way. Quite a haul, yuh see, for Hardy. They're due +here tonight. If they don't get here----" The big man's wide mouth +hardened. + +"But I'm afraid I'm a poor host," he added apologetically. "Yuh'll +have supper and stay the night with us, I'm sure. Tip, you an' Scotty +go out and bring in The Kid's hoss." + +The Texan consented, thanking him, and all began to make preparations +for the night. The big general store seemed more like a fort in time +of war than anything else. Some of the men slept on the counters in +the main room. A place was made for Kid Wolf in the rear. Sentries +were on watch during the entire night, which passed uneventfully. + +In the morning, just as the dawn was glowing in the east, the Texan was +awakened by a horrified cry. All rushed to the front windows. Across +the wide street, over the Idle Hour Saloon, a man was dangling, +suspended from the roof by a rope! It was Durham--the man who had +given Kid Wolf the cigarette-paper note. Some one had seen him in the +act, and the fiends had lynched him. + +"That settles it," said Kid Wolf grimly, turning to McCay. "I reckon +I'm throwin' in with yo'. My guns are at yo' service!" + + +It was a situation not uncommon in that wilderness where "the law +isn't, and the six-shooter is." Kid Wolf, however, had never seen a +bolder attempt to trample on the rights of honest men. His veins beat +hot at the thought of it. And Jack Hardy seemed to have the power to +see it through to its murderous end. + +It was not long after the discovery of Durham's murder when Tip McCay +brought 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 one +the whole night through," Tip said. + +The note was roughly penciled on a sheet of yellow paper, and the +message it carried was significant: + + +Ef yu will all walk out of their without yore guns we promiss no harm +will com to yu. Ef yuh dont, we will get yu to the last man. We +alreddy got yore cattel. This offer dont go fer Kid Wolf. We no hes +their 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 the +insolent letter to bits, were trembling with anger. + +"I say let 'em hop to it!" he jerked out. "I ain't givin' in to +anybody!" + +The others cheered. And it was a fighting group of men who gathered +for a conference as to the defense of the store. It was agreed that +their position was a serious one, outnumbered as they were. + +Just how serious, they soon found out, for at the rising of the sun--as +if it had been a signal--a burst of gunfire blazed out from the saloon +across the street. Splinters flew from the logs as bullets thudded +into them. Several whined through the two windows and crashed into the +wall. + +Kid Wolf took an active part in quickly getting ready for a stand. The +windows 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 behind +the barricade for further protection, and just enough space was left +clear to allow a gun to be aimed through. + +The volley from the Idle Hour had injured no one. The firing continued +more or less steadily, however, and an occasional slug ripped its way +between 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 wasting +ammunition. 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 they +rush us, we'll need to shoot fast!" + +Several rifles were hunted up--Winchesters and two muzzle-loading +Sharps .50s. There were also a powder-and-ball buffalo gun of the old +pattern, and, to Kid Wolf's delight, a sawed-off, double-barreled +shotgun. + +In the light of the early morning, each detail of the grim scene was +brought out minutely. It was a picture Kid Wolf never forgot! Across +the street that formed the No Man's Land was the saloon, wreathed in +powder smoke, as guns spat sullen flame. And swinging slightly above +the splintered green-shuttered doors was the dead body of Durham, neck +stretched 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 a +protection against flying bullets. Kid Wolf suggested that they be +saddled, 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 was +a 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 up +the sawed-off shotgun. + +The Texan was right. A yell went up from the saloon, and a dozen men +rushed out, firing as they came. Six others carried a heavy beam, +evidently torn from the interior of the Idle Hour. It was their +intention to use this as a battering-ram to smash in the door of the +store. + +The cry from the defenders was "Let 'em have it!" + +The terrific thunder of the shotgun and the buffalo rifle blended with +the loud roar of six-guns. Hammers fell with deadly regularity. Fire +blazed from every loophole and shooting space. + +When the smoke cleared away, Tip McCay emitted a whoop that the others +echoed. The charge had been stopped, and very effectively. The big +beam 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 the +other out of business with bullets through both legs. A little to one +side were two more of the outlaws, one of whom had been brought down by +Tip McCay, the other by the lantern-jawed, slow-spoken plainsman known +as Scotty. The others had beaten a quick retreat to the shelter of the +saloon. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +ONE GAME HOMBRE + +Hardy's gang did not attempt another rush. They had learned their +lesson. Keeping under cover, they continued firing steadily, however, +and their bullets began to do damage. Every crack and chink was a +target. + +In the afternoon, more riders arrived to swell the Hardy faction. Some +were ugly, half-clothed Indians, armed with rusty guns and bows and +arrows. The odds were steadily increasing. + +As there was ample food and water in the storehouse to last for several +days, the besieged had no worries on that score. McCay knew, though, +and Kid Wolf realized, that nightfall would bring trouble. Hardy was +stung now by the loss of several men, and he would not do things by +halves. He would show no mercy. + +The first casualty took place in midafternoon. Anderson, in the act of +aiming his revolver through a loophole, was hit between the eyes by a +bullet and instantly killed. The number of men defending the store was +now cut down to seven. + +Toward nightfall, tragedy overtook them, full force. Old Beef McCay +was in the act of reloading a gun when a treacherous bullet zipped +spitefully through an opening between two logs and caught him low in +the 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 weight +as it slowly sagged. + +"Got me--son!" the cattleman jerked out. + +Quickly the Texan tore away his shirt. He did not have to examine the +wound to see how deadly it was; one glance was enough. Shot a few +inches 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 turned +glazing 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 of +this trap alive, Tip and I will do ouah best." + +The stricken man's face lighted. He grasped his son, Tip, with one +hand, 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 his +wound, walked firmly and steadily to the door and began kicking the +barricade aside. + +"What are yuh doin'?" one of the defenders cried, thinking he was +delirious 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 waved +them 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're +doin' it!" + +He seemed stronger now than ever. Sheer will power was keeping him on +his feet. Seizing two revolvers, one in each big fist, he wabbled +through the door. + +With horror-widened eyes, they watched his reeling progress. He +faltered to the hitch rack with bullets humming all around him. He +clung to it for a moment, then went on, stalking toward the Idle Hour +like grim vengeance! His guns sputtered red fire and bursts of black +powder smoke. Hit time after time--they could see the dust fly from +his clothing as he staggered along under the dreadful impacts--he kept +going. It was glorious, terrible! + +Tip hid his eyes, with a despairing cry. Kid Wolf watched, his face +white under his sunburn. + +Up to the very door of the Hardy refuge, the old man walked, his guns +hammering claps of thunder. Hit several times in the body, he sprawled +once 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 his +blazing guns. Then McCay, too, fell--for the last time. + +"Yo' dad was one game hombre, Tip," murmured the Texan, putting a +comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "Let's hope that when ouah turn +comes, we can go as bravely." + +He had never seen such an exhibition of undaunted courage. Although +the 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 make +good his promise to Old Beef McCay! + + +The McCay store was surrounded on all sides, and its four walls were +scarred and pitted with bullet holes. And night was coming on rapidly. +Kid Wolf saw the peril of their position. He knew, only too well, that +the darkness would add to their troubles. + +Twilight was deepening into dusk. Soon it became dark, and the moon +would not be up for an hour. Kid Wolf, Tip McCay, and their four +companions were never more alert. But even their keen eyes could not +watch 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 Hardy +gang. Thirsty for vengeance, they kept their eyes glued to their +peepholes, fingers on gun triggers. + +Tip had found a friend in Kid Wolf. No words were wasted on sympathy +now, or regrets, but Tip knew that the drawling Texan understood. + +There was little shooting being done now, and the suspense was telling +on the nerves of all of them. What was Hardy up to? Would he again +attempt to batter down the door and force a way in, under cover of +darkness 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, one +of the slinking Indians had crept up and ignited a pile of oil-soaked +rags against the logs of the building. The flames rose high, licking +hungrily upward. + +"Get water!" some one shouted. + +A bucketful or two from their supply tossed accurately through a +loophole by Kid Wolf extinguished the blaze before it could rise +higher. 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 be +reached 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 up +into the sky like so many rockets. Fire whistled in the wind. The +streaks were burning arrows, fired by Hardy's red-skinned cutthroats! + +"That settles it!" groaned Tip resignedly. "They're fallin' on the +roof!" + +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, it +was more to the rustler chief's purpose than smashing in the door. It +would soon be all over for the defenders now. + +In a breath, the roof was afire. Little jets of smoke began to spurt +down from the beams over their heads, and the flames were fanned into a +roar by the wind. Desperately the little handful of fighters exchanged +glances. Things looked black indeed. They could not remain long in +the burning death trap, and outside was Hardy's gang, waiting in the +darkness to shoot them down if they ventured to escape. + +"Steady, boys!" encouraged the Texan. "Theah may be a chance fo' us +yet." + +But one of them--Blake--was overcome with terror. In spite of what the +others did to restrain him, he ran outside, tearing his way through the +barricade. His hands were raised wildly over his head in token of +surrender. But that made no difference to Hardy. There was a dull +spat, and Blake went sprawling, shot through the heart. + +"I hope nobody else tries that," drawled The Kid. "When we go, let's +go togethah. By the light of this fiah they can see the colah of ouah +eyes. 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. Already +flames were creeping down the walls, and the air was as hot as the +breath of an oven. Their faces were blistered, their exposed hands +cooked. Tip's coat was afire, as all five of them made a dash for the +smaller room, taking the extra guns and ammunition with them. + +This gave them a short respite. As yet the fire had not reached this +apartment, although it would not take long. The smoke was soon so +thick as nearly to be blinding. Stationing themselves at the +loopholes, they began to work havoc with their rifles and revolvers. +For the outlaws, bolder now, had ventured closer and made good targets +in the glare of the burning building. + +Suddenly there was a tremendous crash. The roof over the main room had +come smashing in! Instantly the fire roared louder; tongues of it +began to lick through the walls. Wood popped, and the heat became +maddening. One side of the room became a mass of flames. The +imprisoned men began to wet their clothing with the little water that +was left. + +"The stable!" ordered Kid Wolf. "Quick!" + +The stable was built against the side of the store in the rear, and a +door of the smaller room opened into it. There they must make their +last stand. + +The horses--and among them was Kid Wolf's white charger, Blizzard--were +trembling 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 the +Texan. + +"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. And +once caught, it burned like tinder. The horses screamed as the fire +licked at them, and all was confusion. To make matters worse, bullets +ripped through continually. + +The Hardy band had gathered about the burning buildings in a close +ring, ready to shoot down any one the instant he showed himself. The +situation looked hopeless. + +"Stay in there if yuh want to!" a voice shouted outside. "Burn up, or +take lead! It's all the same to us!" + +The heat-tortured Scotty staggered to his feet and groped toward one of +the 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 make +the break when I say the word. But not until!" + +Gritting their teeth, they prepared to endure the baking heat for a few +minutes more. They did not know what Kid Wolf was going to do, but +they had faith that he would do something. And they knew, as things +stood, that they could not hope for anything but death if they tried to +escape now. + +The stable was a mass of flames. The walls were crumbling and falling +in. The Texan gave his final orders. + +"If any of us get through," he gasped, "we'll meet on the Chisholm +Trail--below heah. Ride hard, with heads low--when I say the word!" + +Then Kid Wolf played his trump card. Upon leaving the store itself, he +had taken a small keg with him--a powder keg. Until now, none of the +others had noticed it. Holding it in his two hands, he darted through +the 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' us +all to kingdom come!" + +The Texan made a glorious picture as he stood there, framed in red and +yellow. Fire was under his feet and on every side. The glow of it +illuminated his face, which was stained with powder smoke and blackened +by the flames. His eyes shone joyously, and a laugh of defiance and +recklessness was on his lips as he swung the poised keg aloft. + +The Hardy gang, frozen with terror for an instant, scattered. They ran +like 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, one +spark would set it off. Overcome with panic, the ring of outlaws +melted into the night. + +The Texan gave the signal, and Tip, Caldwell, Scotty, and White tore +out of the doorway on their frightened horses, heads low, scattering as +they came. Kid Wolf whistled sharply for Blizzard and pulled himself +effortlessly into the saddle as the big white horse went by at a mad +gallop. He tossed away the keg as he did so. + +The Hardy faction began shooting then, but it was too late. Bullets +hummed over the heads of the escaping riders, but not one found its +mark. + +Kid Wolf found himself riding alongside Tip McCay. The others had +taken different routes. The sounds of guns behind them were rapidly +growing fainter, and they were hidden by the pitch darkness. Kid Wolf +heard 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 that +powder keg yuh used?" + +"Yes, I knew all the time," chuckled The Kid. "It wasn't powdah at +all. It was lime. I found that out when I tried to load a Sharps +rifle 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 miles +below Midway on the Chisholm Trail. The former three were jubilant +over their unexpected release from the fire trap, but they agreed with +the Texan's first proposal. + +"We've got mo' work to do, boys," he drawled. "If we wanted to, we +could give that gang the slip fo' good and make ouah get-away. I +think, though, that yo' feel as I do. What do yo' say we rustle back +that herd o' longhorns that Hardy stole from Tip's dad?" + +It meant running into danger again, and lots of it, but none of them +hesitated. Kid Wolf had made his promise, and the others vowed to see +him through. It took them but a few moments to plan their reckless +venture and get into action. + +The Kid hated Hardy now, just as heartily as did Tip McCay. And even +if he had not given his word to the dying cattleman, he would not have +left 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 other +measures failed to punish. And now, even although handicapped and +outnumbered, he planned to strike. The stolen herd represented a small +fortune, and rightfully belonged to Tip McCay and his mother. But +where were the longhorns now? + +Tip's suggestion was helpful. He thought the cattle could not be more +than a few miles below. They quickly decided to ride south, and Tip +and The Kid led the way. The moon was up now, and it lighted the open +prairie with a soft glow. The five riders pounded down the old +Chisholm cattle road at a furious clip, eyes open for signs. Presently +Tip cried: + +"We'll find 'em down there at Green Springs! I see a light! It's a +camp fire!" + +On the horizon they made out the feathery tops of trees against the +sky, and riding closer, they could see a dark mass bunched up around +them--little dots straying out at the edges. It was the stolen McCay +herd! + +No general on the field of battle planned more carefully than the +Texan. The party came closer, warily and making no noise. As they did +so, they could hear the bawling of the cattle. Some were milling and +restless, and the cattleman could see four men on horses at different +points, attempting to keep the animals quiet and soothed. At the camp +fire, several hundred yards from the springs, were four other men. Two +of these seemed to be asleep in their blankets; the other pair were +talking and smoking. + +"The odds," drawled Kid Wolf in a low tone, "are eight to five in theah +favah. Tip, yo' take the man on the no'th. Scotty, yores is the +hombre 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 work +togethah. They won't know who we are at first, probably, and will +think 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 his +companion's sleeve. Two other men lay snoring on the other side of the +crackling 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 was +tryin' to say is this: If Jack Hardy splits reasonable with us, why +we----" + +He was interrupted. Both men glanced up, to see a tall figure +sauntering 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're +a little late. Will yo' kindly poke yo' hands into the atmospheah?" + +The two outlaws experienced a sudden wilting of their gun arms. It was +quick death to attempt to draw while the round black eyes of this +stranger's twin Colts were on them. + +With a jerk, both threw up their hands. One gave a shout--a cry meant +to warn his companions. + +A shot from the direction of the herd told them, however, that the +other outlaws were already aware of something unusual. + +The two bandits in the blankets jumped up, rubbing their eyes in +amazement. A kick from Kid Wolf's boot sent the .45 of one of them +flying. 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 minutes +by Tip, White, Caldwell, and Scotty, who were driving two prisoners +before them. + +"Bueno!" said The Kid. "I see yo' got the job done without much +trouble. 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 past +Midway, the trail to Dodge was clear. But there was plenty of work to +do in the meantime. + + +An hour after sunup, the herd of fifteen hundred steers was moving +northward toward Midway. Kid Wolf and his four riders had them well +under control, and had it not been for a certain alertness in their +bearing, one would have thought it an ordinary cattle drive. + +Kid Wolf was singing to the longhorns in a half-mocking, drawling +tenor, 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 brought +along. Already several miles had been traveled. And thus far the +party had seen no signs of Jack Hardy's rustler gang. They were not, +however, deceived. With every passing minute they were approaching +closer to Midway, the Hardy stronghold. And not only that, but the +outlaws 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 stone +and never entirely finished. Indians sometimes camped within the +inclosure. It was, however, empty of life, and the adventurers were +about to push on with the herd when the keen, roving eyes of Kid Wolf +spotted something suspicious on the north horizon. He held his hand +aloft, 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 or +unprepared. They were favored, too, in having such a place for +defense. Save for the low walls of the abandoned corral, there was no +cover worth mentioning for miles. Among the cool-eyed five who +prepared to make their stand, there was not one who hadn't faced death +before and often. But never had the odds been more against them. They +had slipped through the toils before, but now they were tightening +again. + +Watching the riders as they grew larger against the sky, they could +count two dozen of them. There was no use to hide. They could not +conceal the cattle herd, and the Hardy gang would surely investigate. +Already they were veering in their course, riding directly toward the +stone corral. + +"Aweel," muttered Scotty, lapsing into his Scotch dialect for the +moment, "there isn't mooch doot about how this thing will end. But I'm +a-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 pick +Hardy out o' that gang o' killers, and if I do, I don't care much then +what happens." + +The prisoners had been herded within the corral, and their feet were +lashed together. + +"Yuh'll soon be listenin' to bullets," Caldwell told them. "Yuh'd +better 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 horses +and 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 a +shower of clods behind it. And as if this first shot were signal, a +shattering volley rang out from the oncoming riders. Bits of stone and +bursts of sand flew up from the low stone breastworks. + +"We got yuh this time!" one of the rustlers shouted. "We're givin' yuh +one chance to come out o' there!" + +"And we're givin' yuh all the chances yo' want," replied Kid Wolf, "to +come and get us!" + +For answer, the horsemen--two dozen strong--charged! In a breath, they +had struck and had been driven back. So quickly had it happened that +nobody remembered afterward just how it had been done. The Texan's two +Colts grew hot and cooled again. Three riderless horses galloped about +the corral in circles, and the thing was over! + +It had been sheer nerve and courage against odds, however. Three of +the attackers fell from their horses before the stone walls had been +gained, and three others had met with swift trouble inside. The rest +had retreated hastily, leaving six dead and wounded behind. Only +Caldwell 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 up +largely of half-breeds and Indians. The Texan knew their ways. That +first charge had been only half-hearted. The next time, the outlaws +would fight to a finish, angered as they were to a fever heat. And +although the defenders might account for a few more of the renegades, +the end was inevitable. Kid Wolf did not lose his cool smile. He had +been in tight situations before, and had long ago resigned himself to +dying, when his time came, in action. + +"Here they come again!" barked Scotty grimly. But suddenly a burst of +rifle fire rang out in the distance--a sharp, crackling volley. Two of +the outlaw gang dropped. One horse screamed and fell heavily with its +rider. + +The five defenders saw to their utter amazement that a large band of +horsemen was riding in from the east at a hot gallop, guns spitting +fire. As a rescue, it was timed perfectly. The rustlers had been +about to charge the corral, and now they reined up in panic, undecided +what 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 here +an'----" + +But the Texan knew he was right. He had seen the sun glittering on the +silver badge that one of the strange riders wore. + +The rustlers themselves were outnumbered now. The posse included a +score of men, and they handled their guns in a determined way. The +outlaws fired a wild shot or two, then signified their surrender by +throwing up their hands. While the sullen renegades were being +searched and disarmed, the leader of the posse came over to where the +Texan 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 Kid +politely. + +"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' Limpin +Buffalo County. I've brought my posse over two hundred miles to get my +hands on one o' the worst gangs o' rustlers in the Injun Nations. I +don't know who you are, but the fact that yuh were fightin' 'em is +enough fer me. I know yo're all right." + +"Thanks, sheriff," said the Texan. "I'm leavin' Mr. Tip McCay heah to +tell 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's +saddle. "Looks like a clean sweep has been made of the Hahdy +gang--except Hahdy himself. I reckon I'll ride in and get him, so's to +make the pahty complete." + +"Hardy!" the officer ejaculated. "I want that _malo hombre_--and +mighty bad, dead or alive!" + +"Let us go along!" burst out Tip. + +"No," laughed the Texan quietly. "Yo' boys have had enough dangah and +excitement fo' one day, not includin' yestahday. I'd rathah settle +this little business with Jack Hahdy alone. Yo' drive the cattle on +and meet me latah." + +And lifting his hand in farewell, The Kid touched his white charger +with 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 that +was a pair of beady black eyes watching him from behind a prairie-dog +hill! One of the renegade half-breeds had managed to slip away from +the posse unseen. It was Tucumcari Pete, and in a draw a few yards +away was his pony. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +TUCUMCARI'S HAND + +Jack Hardy was annoyed. He had planned carefully, expecting to have no +difficulty in wiping out the hated McCays and those who sympathized +with them. + +His plans had only partially succeeded. The elder McCay was dead, but +Tip and some of the others had slipped through his clutches. To have +the McCay faction wiped out of Midway forever meant money and power to +him. 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 available +man, even his bartender, out on the chase. He wanted to finish, at all +costs, what he had begun. + +"It was all due to that blasted hombre from Texas!" he groaned. "I +wish I had him here, curse him! It would've all gone smooth enough if +he hadn't meddled. Well, he'll pay! The boys will get him. And when +they do----" Hardy thumped the bar with his fist in fury. + +He paced the floor angrily. The deserted building seemed to be getting +on his nerves, for he went behind the bar several times and, with +shaking fingers, poured stiff drinks of red whisky. Then he walked to +one of the deserted card tables and began to riffle the cards aimlessly. + +There were two reasons why the rustling saloon keeper had not joined in +the search for his victims. One was that he hated to leave unprotected +the 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 gun +fighting. He was still seated at the card table, laying out a game of +solitaire, when the swinging doors of the saloon opened quietly. The +first inkling Hardy had of a stranger's presence, however, was the soft +drawl 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, frozen +with surprise. Then he turned his head, and his right hand moved +snakelike downward. Just a few inches it moved, then it stopped. +Hardy had thought he had a chance, and then he suddenly decided that he +hadn't. At his first glance, he had seen Kid Wolf's hands carelessly +at his sides; at his second, he saw them holding two .45s! + +Kid Wolf's smile was mocking as he sauntered into the room. His thumbs +were 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 had +paled to the color of paper, and beads of perspiration stood out on his +pasty 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 a +rope. It's been waitin' fo' yo' a long time. But now I have some +business 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's +black coat. + +"Next thing," he drawled, "I want yo' to take that body down from in +front o' yo' do'." + +Kid Wolf referred to the corpse of the unfortunate McCay spy whom Hardy +had 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 the +dead man's neck. Released from the noose, the body sagged to the +ground. + +"Just leave the noose theah," ordered The Kid. "It may be that the +sheriff will have some use fo' it." + +"The sheriff!" Hardy repeated blankly. + +"Yes, he'll be heah soon," murmured Kid Wolf softly. "I have some +business with yo' first. Maybe we'd bettah go to yo' office." + +Jack Hardy's office was a little back room, divided off from the main +one of the Idle Hour. In spite of his protests, Hardy was compelled to +unlock 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'. In +behalf of Tip and his mothah, I'm demandin'--well, I think ten thousand +dollahs 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 no +time 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 bag +of gold coins. Ordering Hardy to take a chair opposite, Kid Wolf began +to count the money carefully. To allow himself the free use of his +hands, he holstered both his guns. + +"When this little mattah is settled," the Texan drawled, "I have a +little personal business with yo', man to man." + +Jack Hardy moistened his lips feverishly. Although he was not now +covered by The Kid's guns, he lacked the courage to begin a fight. He +knew 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 odd +fo' thousand, two hundred will go to the families of the men yo' +murdahed yestahday. And now, Mistah Jack Hahdy, my personal business +with 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 his +dirty 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 draw +his Colts! It seemed that the half-breed had taken a hand in the game +and that he held the winning cards! In a second it would be over. The +half-breed's finger was reaching for the trigger; his mouth was twisted +into a gloating, vicious smile. + +But while The Kid was seated in such a position at the table that he +could not hope to reach his guns quickly enough, he had his hole +card--the bowie knife in a sheath concealed inside his shirt collar. +The Kid could draw and hurl, if necessary, that gleaming blade as +rapidly as he could pull his 45s. His hand darted up and back. +Something glittered in the air for just a breath, and there was a +singing _twang_! + +Tucumcari Pete gasped. His weird cry ended in a gurgle. He lowered +his rifle and teetered on his feet. The flying knife had found its +mark--the half-breed's throat! The keen-pointed blade had buried +itself nearly to the guard! Clawing at the steel, Tucumcari staggered, +then dropped to the floor with his clattering rifle. His body jerked +for 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 up +with an oath, he hurled the table over upon The Kid and leaped for the +door. The Texan scrambled from under the heavy table and darted after +him. Hardy was running for his life. He raced into the main room of +the Idle Hour with The Kid at his heels. + +Kid Wolf could have drawn his guns and shot him down. But it was too +easy. Unless forced to do so, that was not the Texan's way. + +Snatching open a drawer in one of the gambling tables, Hardy seized a +large-bore derringer and whirled it up to shoot. But The Kid's steel +fingers closed on his wrist. The ugly little pistol exploded into the +ceiling--once, and then the other barrel. + +"There'll be no guns used!" said The Kid, with a deadly smile. "I told +yo' we'd have this out man to man!" + +Hardy's lips writhed back in a snarl of hatred. He sent a smashing +right-hand jab at the Texan's heart. Kid Wolf blocked it, stepped to +one side and lashed the rustler king under the eye. Hardy staggered +back against the table, clutching it for support. The Kid pressed +closer, and Hardy dodged around the table, placing it between him and +his enemy. The Texan hurled it to one side and smashed his way through +the saloon owner's guard. + +Hardy, head down to escape The Kid's terrific blows, bucked ahead with +all his power and weight advantage and seized him about the waist. It +was apparent that he was trying to get his hands on one of the Texan's +guns. At close range, Kid Wolf smashed at him with both hands, his +fists 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 in +the 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 was +telling on him. His breath was coming in jerky gasps. Seizing the +high 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 jumping +backward to avoid it, darted in like a wild cat. While the stool was +still at the apex of its swing, he struck, with the strength of his +shoulder behind the blow. It landed full on the rustler's jaw, and +Hardy went crashing backward, heels over head, landing on the wreckage +of 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 muscles +behind his sledgelike fists, he hit Hardy twice. The first blow +stopped Hardy, straightened him up with a jolt and placed him in +position for the second one--a right-hand uppercut. Smash! It landed +squarely on the point of Hardy's weak chin. The blow was enough to +fell 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 which +Hardy had hanged the McCay spy, George Durham, still hung before the +door, its noose swaying in the wind some five feet from the ground. +Hardy hit it. His head struck the rope with terrific force--caught in +the loop for an instant. There was a sharp snap, and Hardy dropped to +the wooden sidewalk. For a few moments, his body twitched +spasmodically, then lay still and rigid. His neck had been broken by +the 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 their +sharp 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 for +now--Tip's mother. + +"I guess we've got the job done, Blizzard." He smiled at the big white +horse that was standing at the hitch rack. "Heah comes the boys!" + +It was a wondering group that gathered, a few minutes later, in the +ill-fated Idle Hour. They listened in amazement to Kid Wolf's recital +of what had taken place since he left them. + +"And so Hardy hanged himself!" the sheriff from Limping Buffalo +ejaculated, when he could find his voice. "Well, I must say that saves +me 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," he +drawled. "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, his +voice 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, I +always try to make the troubles of the undah dawg, mah troubles. So +long as theah are unfohtunates and downtrodden folks in this world, +I'll have mah work cut out. I am, yo' might say, a soldier of +misfohtune." + +"But yo're not goin'?" Tip cried, seeing the Texan swing himself into +his saddle. + +"I'm just a rollin' stone--usually a-rollin' toward trouble," said the +Texan. "Some time, perhaps, we'll meet again. Adios!" + +Kid Wolf swung his hat aloft, and he and his white horse soon blurred +into 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 for +half an hour. At first he had thought it only a whirling dervish--one +of those restless columns of sand that continually shift over the arid +lands. But it was following the course of the trail below him on the +desert--rounding each bend and twist of it. + +The Texan, astride his big white horse, had been "hitting the high +places only," riding directly south at an easy clip, but scorning the +trail whenever a short cut presented itself. + +Descending from the higher ground of the mesa now, by means of an +arroyo leading steeply down upon the plain, he saw what was kicking up +the dust. It was a buckboard, drawn by a two-horse team, and traveling +directly toward him at a hot clip. There was one person, as far as he +could 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 the +buckboard and its passenger face to face. + +Kid Wolf had no intention of avoiding the meeting, but something in the +tenseness of the figure on the seat of the vehicle, even at that +distance, caused his gray-blue eyes to pucker. + +The distance between him and the buckboard rapidly decreased as Kid +Wolf's white horse drummed down between the chocolate-colored walls of +the arroyo. Between him and the team on the trail now was only a +stretch of level white sand, dotted here and there with low burrow +weeds. Suddenly, the driver of the buckboard whirled the shotgun. The +double barrels swung up on a line with Kid Wolf. + +Quick as the movement was, the Texan had learned to expect the +unexpected. In the West, things happened, and one sought the reason +for them afterward. His hands went lightning-fast toward the twin .45s +that hung at his hips. + +But Kid Wolf did not draw. A look of amazement had crossed his +sun-burned face and he removed his hands from his gun butts. Instead +of firing on the figure in the buckboard, Kid Wolf wheeled his horse +about quickly, and turned sidewise in his saddle in order to make as +small a target as possible. + +The shotgun roared. Spurts of sand were flecked up all around The Kid +and the big white horse winced and jumped as a ball smashed the +saddletree a glancing blow. Another slug went through the Texan's hat +brim. Fortunately, he was not yet within effective range. + +Even now, Kid Wolf did not draw his weapons. And he did not beat a +retreat. Instead, he rode directly toward the buckboard. The click of +a gun hammer did not stop him. One barrel of the shotgun remained +unfired and its muzzle had him covered. + +But the Texan approached recklessly. He had doffed his big hat and now +he made a courteous, sweeping bow. He pulled his horse to a halt not +ten 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's +breathless pause. + +"There's nine buckshot in the other barrel," said a feminine voice--a +voice 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 that +yo' are in trouble. May I help yo'?" + +Doubtfully, the woman lowered her weapon. She was middle-aged, kindly +faced, and her eyes were swollen from weeping. She looked out of place +with the shotgun--friendless and very much alone. + +"I don't know whether to trust you or not," she said wearily. "I +suppose 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 in +this cruel land is my enemy. You're an outlaw--and probably one of the +murderers who killed my husband." + +"Please believe that I'm not," the Texan told her earnestly. "I'm a +strangah to this district. Won't yo' tell me yo' story? I want to +help yo'." + +"There isn't much to tell," the driver of the buckboard said in a +quavering 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 murdered +yesterday." + +Not until then did Kid Wolf see the grim cargo of the buckboard. His +face 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, in +San Felipe, offered me ten thousand for it, some time ago. It's worth +more, 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 was +in the army, so far as any one knows. He just fancies the title and +calls himself 'Major Stover'--though he has no right to do so." + +"A kind of four-flushin' hombre--a coyote in sheep's clothin', I should +judge," 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 The +Kid. + +"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 hundred +head. Then yesterday"--she paused and her eyes filled with +tears--"yesterday my husband was shot while he was standing at the edge +of the corral. I don't know who did it." + +No wonder this woman felt that every hand was turned against her. Kid +Wolf's eyes blazed. + +"Won't the law help yo'?" he demanded. + +"There isn't any law," said the woman bitterly. "Now you understand +why I fired at you. I was desperate--nearly frantic with grief. I +hardly knew what I was doing." + +"Well, just go back home to yo' ranch, ma'am. I don't think yo' need +to 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 in +San 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' basis +again. 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, and +the foreman--Steve Stacy. But, tell me, who are you--to do this for a +stranger, 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. Those +who do the oppressin' usually learn to call me by mah last name. Now +don't worry any mo', but just leave yo' troubles to me." + +Mrs. Thomas smiled, too. She dried her eyes and looked at the Texan +gratefully. + +"I've known you ten minutes," she said, "and somehow it seems ten +years. I do trust you. But please don't get yourself in trouble on +account of Ma Thomas. You don't know those men. This is a hard +country--terribly hard." + +Kid Wolf, however, only smiled at her warning. He remained just long +enough to obtain two additional bits of information--the location of +the S Bar and the distance to the town of San Felipe. Then he turned +his horse's head about, and with a cheerful wave of his hand, struck +out for the latter place. The last he saw of Mrs. Thomas, she was +turning her team. + +Kid Wolf realized that he had quite a problem on his hands. The work +ahead of him promised to be difficult, but, as usual, he had gone into +it impulsively--and yet coolly. + +"We've got a big ordah to fill, Blizzahd," he murmured, as his white +horse 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 had +aroused hopes that might not materialize. The plight of Mrs. Thomas +had stirred him deeply. His pulses had raced with anger at her +persecutors--whoever they were. His Southern chivalry, backed up by +his 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 got +to see this thing through!" + +Ma Thomas--he had seen at a glance--was a plains-woman. Courage and +character were in her kindly face. The Texan's heart had gone out to +her in her trouble and need. + +Once again he found himself in his native territory, but in a country +gone strange to him. Ranchers and ranches had come in overnight, it +seemed 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 the +muddy Rio. It was Texas--stern, vast, mighty. + +And, if what Mrs. Thomas had said was correct, law hadn't kept pace +with the country's growth. There was no law. Kid Wolf knew what that +meant. His face was very grim as he left the wagon trail behind. + +The town of San Felipe--two dozen brown adobes, through which a +solitary street threaded its way--sprawled in the bottom of a canyon +near 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 its +size in twenty-four hours. San Felipe was noisy and wide awake. + +It was December. The sun, however, was warm overhead. The sky was +cloudless and the distant range of low mountains stood out sharp and +clear against the sky. As Kid Wolf rode into the town, a hard wind was +blowing across the sands and it was high noon. + +San Felipe's single street presented an interesting appearance. Most +of the long, flat adobes were saloons--The Kid did not need to read the +signs above them to see that. The loungers and hangers-on about their +doors 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 The +Kid 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 the +major before he had observed the sign, and wondering about the man's +offer to buy the S Bar Ranch. The Texan whistled softly as he +dismounted. He left Blizzard waiting at the hitch rack, and sauntered +to 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 first +impression was the disagreeable smell of cigar stumps. + +His eyes fell upon the man at the desk by the dirty window, and he +experienced a sudden start--an uncomfortable feeling. The Texan did +not often dislike a man at first sight, but he was a keen reader of +character. + +"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 fell +upon 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, I +believe?" + +"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 by +Rattlesnake 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 of +the 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 as +Mrs. 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 time +make such an offer. However, I have reconsidered. My price is now +three 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 her +where 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 his +weight, and in spite of his bulk, The Kid handled him as if he had been +a child. An upward jerk dragged him from his chair. The Texan held +him by one muscular hand. + +"So yo' have her where yo' want her, have yo'?" he cried, giving the +major a powerful shake. + +He passed his other hand over the land agent's flabby body, poking the +folds of fat here and there over Major Stover's ribs. At each thump +the 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 try +that!" + +Major Stover had attempted to draw an ugly-looking derringer. The Kid +calmly took it away from him and threw it across the room. He shook +the 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 a +crashing, rending sound as Stover's huge body struck it. The wood +collapsed and the dazed land agent found himself sitting on the floor. + +"I'll get yuh for this, blast yuh!" gasped the major, his bloated face +red with rage. "Yo're goin' to get yores, d'ye hear! I've got power +here, and yore life ain't worth a cent!" + +"It's not in the mahket, eithah," the Texan drawled, as he strolled +toward the door. At the threshold he paused. + +"Yo've had yo' say, majah," he snapped, "and now I'll have mine. If I +find that yo' are in any way responsible fo' the tragedies that have +ovahtaken 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 front +of the stranger, placing, with an added flourish, a thick-bottomed +whisky glass beside it. This done, he examined the newcomer with an +attentive eye, pretending to polish the bar while doing so. + +The man he observed was enough to attract any one's notice, even in the +cosmopolitan cow town of San Felipe. Kid Wolf was worth a second +glance always. The bartender saw a lean-waisted, broad-shouldered +young man whose face was tanned so dark as to belie his rather long +light hair. He wore a beautiful shirt of fringed buckskin, and his +boots were embellished with the Lone Star of Texas, done in silver. +Two single-action Colts of the old pattern swung low from his beaded +belt. + +"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 whisky +glass, still level full of the amber liquor. "I was just wonderin' why +yuh didn't down it." + +"Oh, yes," said Kid Wolf again. He picked up the glass between thumb +and forefinger and deliberately emptied it into a handy cuspidor. "I +leave that stuff to mah enemies," he said, smiling. "By the way, can +yo' tell me where I can find a Mistah Mullhall, a Mistah Anton, a +Mistah Lathum, a Mistah Wise, and a Mistah Steve Stacy?" + +When the bartender could recover himself, he pointed out a table near +the 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 the +gambling table. + +The La Plata Saloon was fairly well patronized, even though it lacked +several hours until nightfall. Kid Wolf had taken the measure of the +loiterers at a glance. Most of them were desperadoes. "Outlaw" was +written over their hard faces, and he wondered if Ma Thomas hadn't been +right about the county's general lawlessness. San Felipe seemed to be +well supplied with gunmen. + +The three men at the table, although they were "heeled" with .45s, were +of a different type. They were cowmen first, gunmen afterward. Two +were in their twenties; the other was older. + +"I beg yo' pahdon, caballeros," said The Kid softly, as he came up +behind 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 prevented +questions just then. The trio faced about in surprise. Plainly, they +did not know whether to take Kid Wolf for a friend or for a foe. Like +true 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 dozen +bottles, likewise empty, was thrown open to them. + +"Have chairs, gentlemen," The Kid invited, as he carefully closed the +door. + +The trio took chairs about the table, looking questioningly at the +stranger. The oldest of them picked up a deck of cards and began to +shuffle 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'll +listen, 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 a +searching 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 this +is 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 cow +hand, 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 the +table so quickly and so quietly that none of them had seen his arms +move. + +"Now, I hope," murmured The Kid, "that yo' rather listen to me talk +than 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--would +even 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 a +defiant look. + +"Boys, play square with me and yo' won't be sorry," Kid Wolf told them +earnestly. "I know that all these things happened after yo' left. +Since then, cattle have been rustled and Mr. Thomas has been +murdahed--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 boys +whose 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 left +gulped. + +"Well," he blurted, "we was only gettin' forty-five, and when Stover +offered to double it, and with nothin' to do but lie around, why, +we----" + +"Things are changed now," said The Kid gently. "Ma Thomas is alone +now." + +"That's right," said the oldest awkwardly. "I suppose we ought to----" + +"Ought to!" repeated one of the others, jumping to his feet. "By +George, 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 a +handful of gold pieces from his pocket and placed them on the table in +a little pile. "This is all I have, but Mrs. Thomas isn't in a +position to pay right now, so heah is yo' first month's wages in +advance." + +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 The +Kid. + +"We ain't takin' it," he mumbled. "Don't get us wrong, partner. We +ain't thet kind. We never would've quit the S Bar if it hadn't been +for Steve Stacy--the foreman. And, of course, things was goin' all +right 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 three +was Anton. Wise was the bow-legged one, and Lathum was freckled and +tall. + +"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's +Mullhall. Neither of 'em will listen--and they'll make trouble when +they find we're goin' back." + +"If yo'-all feel the same way as I do," Kid Wolf drawled as they filed +out of the back room, "they won't have to make trouble. It'll be theah +fo' '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 party +emerge from the back room, they pushed away from the bar and came +directly toward Kid Wolf, who was walking in the lead. + +"Steve Stacy's the hombre in front," Wise whispered. "Be on yore +guard." + +The Kid knew the ex-foreman's type even before he spoke. He was the +loud-mouthed and overbearing kind of waddy--a gunman first and a cowman +afterward. 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. The +two 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 the +pay roll again." + +It was putting up the issue squarely, with no hedging. Both Stacy and +Mullhall darkened with fury. + +"What's yore little game? I guess it's about time to put an extra +spoke 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 right +now, and if yo' men don't want to be friends, I'll be right glad to +have yo' fo' enemies!" + +Mullhall had pressed very close. It was as if the whole thing had been +prearranged. His hands suddenly shot out and seized Kid Wolf's +arms--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 worked +together 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 be +victimized by such a threadbare ruse. He was too fast, too strong. He +whirled Mullhall about, his left boot went behind Mullhall's legs. +With all his force he threw his weight against him, tearing his arms +free. + +Mullhall went backward like a catapult, directly at Stacy. The gun +exploded in the air, and as the slug buzzed into the roof, both +Mullhall and the exforeman went down like bags of meal--a tangled maze +of legs and arms. + +"Get up," The Kid drawled. "And get out!" + +Kid Wolf had not bothered to draw his guns, but Anton, Wise, and Lathum +had reached for theirs, and they had the angry pair covered. Stacy +changed his mind about whirling his gun on his forefinger as he +recovered it, and sullenly shoved it into its holster. + +"We'll get yuh!" snarled Stacy, his furious eyes boring into The Kid's +cool 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. But +in the meantime--vamose pronto!" + +Swearing angrily, the two men obeyed. It seemed the healthiest thing +to do just then. They slunk out like whipped curs, but The Kid knew +their 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 its +defects. His tenor rose to the canyon walls, rich and musical. + +"Our cake's plumb liable to be overspiced with trouble," Frank Lathum +said with a laugh. + +Kid Wolf, with his three newly hired riders, were well on their way to +the S Bar. His companions knew of a short route that would take them +directly to the Thomas hacienda, and they were following a steep-walled +canyon 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 the +direction of San Felipe. The rider was astride a fast-pacing Indian +pony and overhauling them rapidly. Since leaving the town, Kid Wolf's +party had been in no hurry, and this had enabled the rider to overtake +them. + +"It's Goliday," muttered Anton, shading his weather-beaten eyes with a +brown 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 has +to say." + +Accordingly, the four men drew up to a halt and wheeled about to face +the oncoming ranchman. They could see him raising his hand in a signal +for them to halt. He came up in a cloud of dust, checked his pony, and +surveyed 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 a +black coat and vest over a light-gray shirt. Beneath the former peeped +the ivory handle of a .45. + +"Hello," panted the newcomer. "Are you the hombre that caused all the +stir 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 want +the S Bar. Is it true yo're goin' there to run the place for the old +woman?" + +"It is," The Kid told him. + +"I'll pay yuh well to let the place alone," offered Goliday after a +pause. "I'll give five thousand cash for the ranch, and if the deal +goes through, why I'm willin' to ante up another thousand to split +between you four. + +"I'm a generous man, and it'll pay to have me for a friend. Savvy? As +an enemy I won't be so good. Now, Mr. Wolf, if that's yore name, just +advise 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 and +drew 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, and +they 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 sun +glittered on them as they went up. Then, with his other hand, The Kid +drew 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 gold +flew off on a tangent. _Br-r-rang, cling! Br-r-rang, ting!_ There +were six coins, and The Kid fired six times. He never missed one! He +picked the last one out of the air, three feet from the ground. + +Goliday watched this exhibition of uncanny target practice with bulging +eyes. As the echoes of the last shot died away, he turned on The Kid +with 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. The +Texan had pulled his other revolver with the bewildering speed of a +magician. 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's +only one law in this country, and that's six-gun law--yuh'll feel it +within forty-eight hours!" + +"Is that so?" said The Kid contemptuously. "I have a couple of lawyahs +heah that can talk as fast as any in San Felipe County. The S Bar +accepts yo' challenge. Come on, boys. Let's don't waste any mo' time +with this." + +Grinning, the quartet struck out again westward, leaving the +disgruntled ranchman behind. The last they saw of him, he was kicking +about in the mesquite, looking for his gold. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +DESPERATE MEASURES + +Nightfall found the quartet established in the S Bar bunk house. The +joyful thanks of Ma Thomas was enough reward for any of them. She +hadn't expected to see Kid Wolf again, she said, and to have him return +with help was a wonderful surprise. + +She was a woman transformed and had taken new heart and courage. The +supper she prepared for them, according to Kid Wolf, was the best he +had eaten since he had left Texas. + +All four of them were exceedingly hungry, and they made short work of +Ma Thomas' enchiladas, crisp chicken _tacos_, peppers stuffed, and her +marvelous _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, and +had finished their sad task of burying Thomas, victim of an assassin's +bullet. + +The Kid obtained the bullet that had taken the old rancher's life. It +was 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 said +the 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 twenty +thousand." + +"The robbers!" muttered Kid Wolf. + +"What's on the program?" asked Frank Lathum. "We can't do much +ranchin' 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've +once been driven in?" Anton growled. "It can't be done!" + +"Money in cattle can't be hid like money in jewels or cash," said The +Kid. "Theah not so easy to get rid of, even in Mexico. The town of +Mariposa lies just over the bordah, am I right? And the only good +cattle lands for a hundred miles are just south of theah, isn't that +so?" + +"Yes, but----" + +"Men, this is a time fo' desperate measures. We must stake all on one +turn of the cards. Boldness might win. I want yo' hombres to be in +Mariposa 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 go +along. 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 the +next day, some way or anothah." + +Bold was the word! The quartet talked until a late hour. The three +riders 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 was +practically run out o' San Felipe. He's no _bueno_." + +Kid Wolf learned that the son--Harry Thomas--had nearly broken his +parents' hearts. He had become wild years before, and was now nothing +more 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 I +don't know how a woman like Ma Thomas could have such a worthless rake +fer a son. He was a queer-lookin' hombre--one brown eye and one black +eye." + +"Ma loves him, though. Yuh can tell thet," put in Lathum. + +"Oh, yes," pointed out Anton soberly. "Mothers always do. Great +things, these mothers." + +He blew his nose violently on his red bandanna, and shortly afterward +went to bed. Soon all four were in the bunks, resting for the hard +work that awaited them on the morrow--mañana--and many days after +mañana. + +Kid Wolf was up very early the next morning, and saddled Blizzard after +a hasty breakfast. He had much to do. + +The three S Bar men went part way with him--to a point beyond the south +corral. It was here that Mrs. Thomas had found the body of her +murdered husband. There seemed to be no clew as to who had performed +the deliberate killing. Before The Kid left, however, he did a little +scouting around. In the sand behind a mesquite, fifty yards from the +spot 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 pair +of boots. In a country where high-heeled riding footgear was the +thing, such boots as these were seldom seen. All three admitted that +they had seen such boots somewhere, but, although they racked their +brains, they were unable to say just who had worn them. + +"Well, take a good look at them," drawled The Kid. "I want yo' to be +witnesses to the find. Some day this info'mation might be of use. In +the meantime, adios, boys!" + +"Good luck!" they shouted after him. "We'll be on hand at Mariposa +mañana 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 of +sand just south of the Rio Grande. It was an older city than San +Felipe, and its buildings were more elaborate. + +One in particular, just off the Plaza, attracted the eye of Spanish +ranchman and peon alike. It was the meeting place of the thirsty--the +famed El Chihuahense, a saloon and gambling house known from El Paso to +California. + +Built of brown adobe originally, it had been painted a bright red. The +carved stone with which it was trimmed shone in white contrast to the +vivid walls. An archway was the entrance to the establishment and many +a bullet hole within its shadow testified to the dark deeds that had +happened there. + +Now, as on every night, the place was ablaze with light. Big oil lamps +by the score, backed by polished reflectors, illumined the interior. +From within came the strains of guitars and the gay scrapings of a +fiddle, mingled with the hum of Spanish voices, an occasional oath in +English, 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 it +for two solid hours. Those who knew The Kid better would have wondered +at this. Ordinarily, Kid Wolf was not a gamester. He played cards +rarely, never for any personal gain, and only when there seemed to be a +good reason for so doing. But the Texan knew the game. + +A trio of Mexican landowners who thought they were skilled at it had +quickly found out their error--and withdrew, more or less gracefully. +Now a crowd of swarthy-faced men, numbering more than a score, were +massed around the draw-poker table near the door. They were watching +the masterful play of this slow-drawling hombre--this gringo stranger +who had been seen about Mariposa all day, and who now was "bucking +heads" with a lone antagonist. + +Kid Wolf's opponent was also an American, but one well known to the +Mariposans. A stack of gold coins was piled in front of him, and he +riffled the cards as he dealt in the manner of a professional. This +man was young, also. He wore a green eye shade, and a diamond +glittered in his fancy shirt. He was a gambler. + +The game seesawed for a time. First Kid Wolf would make a small +winning, 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 gasp +with envy. + +But the crisis was coming. The deal passed from the gambler to The Kid +and back to the gambler again. The pot was already swollen from the +antes. The Kid opened. + +"I'm stayin'," said the gambler crisply. He pushed in a small pile of +gold. "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 their +faces twitched. The gambler's face was frozen--as expressionless as an +Indian's. Kid Wolf was his easy self. His usual smile was very much +in evidence, unchanged. He made a bet--a large one, and the gambler +called and raised heavily. The Kid boosted it again. Then there was a +silence, broken only by the tense breathing of the onlookers, who had +pushed 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 the +center of the table. + +The gambler's hand shook the merest trifle. Again he looked at the +pasteboards in his pale hands. Then he quickly pushed every cent he +had into the pot. + +"I'm seeing it, and I'm elevatin' it every coin on me. It'll cost +yuh--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 take +out 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 his +right hand. And it had been done so quickly that the onlookers +exchanged 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. When +finished, 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 hands +were 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 game +with 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 toward +him. + +"Better look at the I O U," The Kid drawled, "and see that it's all +right and proper." As he spoke, he tossed his cards carelessly toward +the gambler, face down. + +The youth in the green eye shade unfolded the paper and looked at the +writing 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 me +in 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 the +astonishment out of his eyes. Slowly and furtively he looked at the +cards Kid Wolf had tossed away so carelessly. The Texan had held four +aces! + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +AT DON FLORISTO'S + +In the moonlight, behind the El Chihuahense Saloon, Kid Wolf and the +gambler met. The latter found The Kid leaning silently against a +ruined adobe wall in the deserted alleyway. The sound of the music +from within the gambling hall could be heard faintly. There was a +silence after the two men faced each other. Harry Thomas finally broke +it: + +"How did yuh know me? I go by the name of Phil Hall here. And who are +yuh?" + +"Just call me The Kid," was the soft answer. "I knew yo' by yo' one +brown 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 and +remorse. His voice trembled when he spoke: + +"I've been a fool," he blurted, "worse than a fool. Poor mother! What +can I do now?" + +"It isn't too late to help her," The Kid told him kindly. "Yo' mothah +needs yo' badly. Findin' those stolen cattle wasn't so hahd, aftah +all. Theah on Don Floristo's ranch just below heah. I've talked to +the don, and let the remahk drop that I'm interested in cattle. So I +am, but the don doesn't know in what way. He thinks I'm a rich gringo +wantin' to buy some." + +"Kid, I've learned my lesson. I'll never gamble again," said Harry +earnestly. + +Kid Wolf took his hand warmly. + +"Don Floristo has already given orders that the six hundred head of S +Bar steers are to be driven to Mariposa to-night. I am to ride south +to his ranch and close the deal. Early mañana the three loyal S Bar +men will seize the cattle and drive them home. Yo' and I must help." + +"Yo're riskin' yore life for strangers, Kid. Floristo is a +dyed-in-the-wool villain. If he suspects anything, he'll cut yore +throat. But I'm with yuh! Yuh've brought me to myself. I didn't +suppose they made hombres like you!" + +"Thanks, Harry. Now listen carefully and I'll tell yo' exactly what to +do." + +For a few minutes The Kid talked earnestly to young Thomas, outlining +their night's work. Then Kid Wolf took leave of the young +man--slipping back through the shadows to the street again. + +Harry Thomas walked quickly to the Establo--Mariposa's biggest livery +stable. Kid Wolf mounted his horse Blizzard. He struck off through +the 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 part +bore doubtful brands. Don Floristo's reputation was not of the best. +His rancho was suspected of being a mere trading ground for stolen +herds. Rustlers from both sides of the line made his land their +objective. + +Kid Wolf had found the S Bar cattle easily enough. The brands had been +gone over, being burned to an 8 Bar J. The work had been done so +recently, however, that he was not deceived. He had called on the don +and told him that he was "interested in cattle," which was true. The +don's lust for gold had done the rest. He supposed that Kid Wolf was +an American who desired to go into the ranching business near the +boundary. 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 were +delivered 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 buy +a ranch, señor? Or have you bought? Perhaps I could help." + +"Perhaps. But I want cattle right now. I have friends just no'th of +the bordah." + +The don had smiled cunningly. This fool gringo would have trouble with +those 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 his +way to the don's hacienda. He had purposely timed his visit so that he +would reach Floristo's rancho at a late hour. Already it was after +midnight. + +Blizzard was unusually full of spirit. The slow pace to which The Kid +held him was hardly an outlet for his restless energy. + +"Steady, boy," The Kid whispered. "We're savin' our strength--they'll +be plenty of fast ridin' to do latah." + +The Kid could not resist the temptation to break into song. His soft +chant 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's +hacienda. + +A dark-faced peon on guard outside, armed with a carbine, opened the +door for him. Late as the hour was, lights were shining inside and he +heard the welcoming sound of Don Floristo's voice as he passed through +the 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 trust +yo' are in good health?" + +The conversation after that was entirely in Spanish, as Kid Wolf spoke +the language like a native. His Southern accent made the Mexican +tongue all the more musical. He followed his host into a rather large, +square room with a beautifully tiled floor. The don motioned The Kid +to a chair. + +"The cattle of which we--ah--spoke, señor," said the don, as he lighted +a long brown cigarette. "They are on the way to Mariposa. Are +probably 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 will +not turn over the herd, of course, until"--he paused +significantly--"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 smiling +mask. The show-down had come. There was a long pause. The Kid's arms +were 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 to +draw the jeweled revolver that hung at his hip. He sneered as he spoke: + +"You will never escape from here alive, my friend," he leered. "What +you 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, now +opened. Framed in the doorway was the bloated, fat figure of Major +Stover. In his hand was a derringer. Its twin black muzzles were +leveled at Kiel Wolf's heart. + +The major's face twisted into an exulting grin as his piglike eyes fell +on Kid Wolf. + +"We meet again," he grated. + +"You see, Señor Keed Wolf," said Don Floristo, "that we have you. By +accident, Señor Wolf, your plans miscarried. Thinking I could sell you +a ranch, as you were buying cattle, I sent a rider _al instante_ for my +friend, the Major Stover. He came at once, and when I described +you----" He laughed harshly. + +The Don removed The Kid's revolvers and threw them on the table. The +major's derringer did not waver. + +"I see that yo' have prepared quite a surprise pahty fo' me," said The +Kid calmly. "Remember that theah are all sorts of surprises. I didn't +have 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'--this +persecution against Mrs. Thomas' ranch!" Kid Wolf snapped. + +"What good is it to know?" asked Stover, laughing. "Yo're goin' to +die!" + +"Shoot him, major," said the don, baring his white teeth. + +"There's no hurry," replied the major. "I want to see him pray for +mercy first. I've got a score to settle with him." + +The Kid remained unmoved in the presence of this peril. He was still +smiling. + +"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 bad +way. 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 a +deadly one, remained to him. He used it now! + +Major Stover did not know how it happened. Kid Wolf's arms were +lifted. Apparently he was helpless. But suddenly there was a swish--a +lightning-like gleam of light. Something hit Stover's gun arm like a +thunder smash. + +Kid Wolf has used his "ace in the hole"--had hurled the bowie knife +hidden in a sheath sewn inside the back of his shirt collar. + +The major's hand went suddenly numb. He dropped the derringer. The +blade had thudded into his forearm and sliced deeply upward. Dazed, he +emitted a wild cry. + +The don was not slow to act. He did not know exactly what had +happened, but he saw the major's gun fall and heard his frightened +yell. Floristo reached hastily for his jewel-studded revolver. + +But the Texan had closed in on him. Kid Wolf hit him full in the face +and Floristo went sprawling down. He was still jerking at his gun butt +as he hit the floor. + +The major had recovered somewhat. With his left hand he scooped up the +derringer and swung it up desperately to line the barrel on Kid Wolf's +heart. + +"All right, Harry!" sang out The Kid. + +Glass flew out of the window at the south wall and clattered to the +tiled floor as an arm, holding a leveled .45, broke through. It was +young Thomas. + +"Put 'em up!" he cried. + +Don Floristo, however, had also raised his gun. A report shook the +adobe walls and sent a puff of blue fumes ceilingward. But Harry +Thomas had fired first. Floristo collapsed with a moan, rolled over +and 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 holsters +and then reached out and seized Major Stover by the collar. He shook +him like a rat as he jerked him to his feet. + +"Well, majah, as yo' calls yo'self," he drawled, "looks like the +surprise worked the othah way round!" + +Stover's flabby face was blue-gray. His knees gave way under him and +his coarse lips were twitching. His eyes rolled wildly. + +"Don't kill me," he wheezed in an agony of fright. "It wasn't my +fault. I--I--Goliday made me do it. He's the man behind me. D-don't +kill--me." + +Suddenly his head rolled to one side and his bulky body wilted. He +sagged to the floor with a hiccupping sound. + +"Get up!" snapped the Texan. + +There was no response. The Kid felt of Stover's heart and straightened +up 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 body +through the window and slipped into the room. + +"His guilty conscience killed him," explained the Texan. "Yo' saved my +life, son, by throwin' down on Don Floristo. Yo' got him between the +shirt buttons." + +"I wanted to shoot long before," said Harry, "but I remembered--and +waited 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 get +posted. I suspected treachery of some kind to-night. But it was a +surprise 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 we +can turn the trick." + +"Then let's go, Kid!" + +Five minutes later the two were pounding the trail northward toward the +Rio Grande! + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +GOLIDAY'S CHOICE + +The east was streaked with pink and orange when The Kid and Harry +Thomas rode into the sleeping town of Mariposa. The little Mexican +city, they discovered, however, was not entirely asleep. + +At the northern edge of the city, on the stretch of sand between the +huddled 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 of +an arroyo just out of sight of Mariposa. Near it was the herd of six +hundred steers, some down and resting, others milling restlessly about +under 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 smoking +embers. They were not Americans. The two grinning newcomers saw that, +even before they made out their swarthy faces. The prisoners wore the +dirty 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 man +turned. It was just light enough to make out his features. It was +Anton. + +"By golly, Kid," he yelped out. "Yo're here at last! We'd about give +yuh up!" + +"I see that yo' didn't wait fo' me," returned the Texan, smiling. + +Wise and Lathum, seeing their visitors, spurred their mounts toward +them. They greeted him with an exulting yell. + +"We turned the trick!" Wise exclaimed. "Not a shot fired. Did it +hours ago." + +"Yuh see, Kid," said Anton, "we just naturally got so impatient and +nervous waitin' that we couldn't stand it any longer. O' course, it +was contrary to yore plans, maybe, but we saw the S Bar steers, stood +it 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 to +do." + +"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, I +know. 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 for +him. + +"I'm through as a gambler," said Harry. "Boys, will yuh take me for a +friend?" + +"Well, I should say we will!" Lathum cried, and all three shook his +hand 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 any +pursuit. Don Floristo isn't in any position to ordah it. I'll see +yo'-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 of +low-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 hard +hombres workin' for him, and----" + +"Please leave this to me," begged The Kid. "Yo' duty is heah with +these cattle. All mah life I've made it mah duty to right wrongs--and +not only that, but to put the wrongdoers wheah they can't commit any +mo' wrongs. Goliday is the mastah mind in all this trouble. Is theah +a sho't cut to his ranch?" + +Anton knew the trails of the district like a memorized map, and he gave +The Kid detailed instructions. By following the mountain chain to the +westward he would reach a dry wash that would lead him to a point +within sight of Goliday's hacienda. + +"Still set on it?" + +The Kid nodded. "Adios! Yuh'll probably get through to the S Bar in +good time. Good-by, Harry." + +"Good luck!" they shouted after him. + + +At the crest of a mesquite-dotted swell of white sand, several hours +later, 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 the +horses in the large corral and the cattle meandering about the water +hole. + +Was the entire ranch personnel in San Felipe? Impossible! And yet he +had 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 that +by following its course he could reach the trees about the water hole +unobserved. + +"Easy, Blizzahd," he said softly. + +The sand deadened the sound of the big white horse's hoofs as it took +the dry wash at a speedy clip. Kid Wolf crouched low, so that his body +would not show above the edge of the wash. At the water hole he drew +up in the shelter of a cottonwood to listen. His ears had caught a +succession of steady, measured sounds. They came from one of the small +adobe outbuildings. Inside, some one was hammering leather. This was +the ranch's saddle shop evidently. + +Very quietly The Kid dismounted. The saddle shop was not far away. He +strolled toward it, wading through the sand that reached nearly to his +ankles. He paused in the doorway, and the hammering sound suddenly +ceased. + +"_Buenos dias_," drawled the Texan. + +The man in the shop was Goliday! He had whirled about like a cat. The +hammer slipped from his right hand and dropped to the hard-packed earth +floor with a thud. + +Kid Wolf's eyes went from Goliday's dark, amazed face, with its shock +of black hair, down to his boots. They were low-heeled, square-toed +boots, embellished with scrolls done in red thread. The Kid's quiet +glance traveled again back to Goliday's startled countenance. Dismay +and fury were mingled there. Kid Wolf had made no movement toward his +guns. His hands were relaxed easily at his sides. He was smiling. + +Goliday's ivory-handled gun was in his pistol holster. His hand moved +a few inches toward it. Then it stopped. Goliday hesitated. Face to +face 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 solid +steel, "fo' the murdah of the ownah of the S Bar!" + +"Bah!" sneered Goliday, but a strange look crossed his dark eyes. His +legs 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 off +of 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 forced +laugh. + +"No?" The Kid drawled. "Well, that isn't all. The man who fired the +death shot used a very peculiah revolvah--very peculiar. The caliber +was .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 usual +six-shootah has six grooves and six lands. Let me see yo' gun, sah!" + +The command came like a whip-crack and little drops of perspiration +stood 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 died +early this mohnin' from heart trouble. Goliday, yo' can do just two +things. 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 the +nearest law, if it's a thousand miles away. Or--yo' can shoot it out +with 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-handled +Colt. + +The ranchman's hand touched the handle before Kid Wolf made even a move +toward his own weapons. Goliday's eager, fear-accelerated fingers +snapped the hammer back. The gun slid half out of its holster as he +tipped it up. + +There was a noise in the little adobe like a thunderclap! A red pencil +of 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 was +distorted. A long gasp came from his lips. A round dot had suddenly +appeared 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 .45 +and bent over and picked up Goliday's ivory-handled weapon. He smiled +grimly as he peered into the muzzle. A very peculiar gun! There were +five 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. He +realized what had happened. He was done for. Rapidly, as if afraid +that 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 to +go like this, Kid Wolf. I tell yuh I'm afraid!" His voice rose to a +shriek. "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 fallen +enemy such as Goliday. + +"Yes," Goliday groaned. "All my men aren't in town. I sent Steve +Stacy and Ed Mullhall--down to the S Bar--a little while ago--to do +away with Mrs. Thomas. Stop 'em! Stop 'em! I don't want to die with +this on my soul. I--I----" + +His words ended in a gurgling moan. His face twitched and then +relaxed. He was dead. + +His dying words had thrilled Kid Wolf with horror. Steve Stacy and Ed +Mullhall on their way to murder Ma Thomas! Perhaps they were at the S +Bar 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 the +saddle 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. There +was no time to hunt for one. Then, too, he must cut off as much as he +could. In that way, if the two killers followed a more or less winding +trail, he might overtake them. + +The country was rough and broken. And, worse still, Blizzard was +tired. He had been on the go for many hours. There was a limit even +to the creamy-white horse's superb strength. It seemed hopeless. +Southeast they tore at breakneck speed. Blizzard seemed to sense what +was required of him. He ran like mad, clamping down on the bit, his +muscles rippling under his glossy hide--a hide that was already flecked +with foam. + +"Go like yo' nevah went befo', Blizzahd boy," The Kid sobbed. + +Never had he been up against a plot so ruthless, a situation more +terrible. A lone woman, Ma Thomas, had been selected for the next +victim! + +As they pounded along, a thousand thoughts tortured the mind of The +Kid. 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 more +than anger. If he could only reach that S Bar in time! + +He rode over hills of sand, across stretches of soft, yielding sand +that slowed even Blizzard's furiously drumming hoofs, over treacherous +fields of lava rock, through cactus forests. Up and down he went, but +always on, and always heading southward toward the ranch. Very rarely +did The Kid use the spurs, but he used them now, roweling Blizzard +desperately. 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 any +rate. There was still hope. Again and again he raked Blizzard with +the spurs. The horse was living up to his name now, running like a +white snowstorm. Already the distance between Kid Wolf and the other +horsemen was lessened. But they had seen him! Before, they had been +riding 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, and +for a tired horse---- + +"Jump it, boy! Jump it!" + +Again Blizzard was raked with the spur. They were nearly at the arroyo +edge now. It was very deep. Would Blizzard take it, or refuse? + +Kid Wolf knew his horse. He already felt Blizzard rising madly in the +air. The danger now was in the fall. For if the horse failed to make +it, death would be the issue. Jagged rocks thirty feet below awaited +horse and rider if the leap failed. + +But Blizzard made it! He scrambled desperately on, the far edge for a +breathless moment while the soft sand caked and caved. The Kid threw +his weight forward. Safely across, Blizzard was off again, galloping +like 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 and +fell sprawling. The other rider kept on. + +The Kid did not fire any more, for he knew that he had been lucky +indeed, to get one of them at such a distance. He bent all his efforts +toward heading off the other. Already the S Bar hacienda was within +sight. There was no time to lose! + +As The Kid pounded past he saw the face of the man who had been struck +by the chance bullet. It was Mullhall. Stacy kept going. He was +urging his horse to top speed, bent upon reaching the ranch and getting +in his work before The Kid could catch him. + +Blizzard had reached his limit. His pace was faltering. Little by +little he began to lag behind. He was nearly spent. Only an expert +rider could have done what The Kid did then. Without slackening +Blizzard's speed, he slipped his saddle. With the reins in his teeth, +he worked loose the latigo and cinch, taking care not to trip the +speeding horse. Then he swung himself backward, freed the saddle and +blanket and hurled both sidewise. He was riding bareback now! + +Relieved of forty pounds of dead weight, Blizzard lengthened his stride +and took new courage. He was overhauling Stacy now yard by yard! + +Stacy turned in his saddle and emptied his gun at his pursuer--six +quick spats of smoke and six slugs of whining lead. All went wild, for +it 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 in +slowly. It was the riders with the recovered herd! But The Kid only +had 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 mercy +for Stacy than he would have had for a rattlesnake that had bitten a +friend. + +_Br-r-rang-bang! Spat-spat!_ Stacy, hit twice, still blazed away. A +bullet ripped through the Texan's sleeve. Again he fired. The +ex-foreman fell, part way. The stirrup caught his left foot as his +head 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 laden +with dishes--once full of delicious viands but now empty. The men, +five in all, had brought out their "makin's." Ma Thomas, bustling +about with more coffee and a wonderful dessert she had mysteriously +prepared, 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 to +the ends of five cigarettes. + +"Well," sighed Kid Wolf, "I hope Blizzahd has enjoyed his dinnah as +much as I've enjoyed mine. He deserves it!" + +"What a wonderful horse!" cried Ma Thomas. "And to think that if he +hadn'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 just +naturally a rollin' stone, always rollin' toward new adventures. I'm +sho' yo'-all are goin' to be very happy." + +"We owe it all to you!" Ma Thomas cried. "All of our good fortune. I +have the ranch and the cattle, and more wonderful than everything +else--my boy, Harry!" + +Kid Wolf looked embarrassed. "Please don't try and thank me," he +murmured. "It's just mah job--to keep an eye out fo' those in need of +help." + +"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's +yores, not mine!" + +"I did that," said The Kid, as he whispered back, "so yo' could buy Ma +a 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 by +placing 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 was +about 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 poetical +question, eyed the gruesome monument with a half smile. Bullet holes +marked it here and there, testifying that many a passer-by with more +marksmanship than respect had used it for a casual target. The empty +sockets seemed to glare spitefully, and the shattered upper jaw grinned +in mockery at the singer. It was as if the grisly relic had heard the +song and laughed. Kid Wolf's smile flashed white against the copper of +his face. Then his smile disappeared and his eyes, blue-gray, took on +frosty little glints. + +The Kid, after straightening out the troubled affairs of the Thomas +family, was heading northwest again. It was the age-old wanderlust +that 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 weighed +the veiled threat in the town's sign and found it grimly humorous +instead of sinister. + +The big white horse threw up its shapely head in a gesture of +impatience that was almost human. + +"All right, Blizzahd," approved its rider. "Into Skull, New Mexico, we +go!" + +Kid Wolf had heard something of Skull's reputation, and although it was +just accident that had turned him this way, he was filled with a mild +curiosity. The Texan never made trouble, but he was hardly the man to +avoid it if it crossed his path. + +As he neared the town, he was rather surprised at its size. The +budding cattle industry had boomed the surrounding country, and Skull +had grown like a mushroom. Lights were twinkling in the twilight from +a hundred windows, and as the newcomer passed the scattered adobes at +the edge of it, he could hear the _clip-clop_ of many horses, the sound +of men's voices, and mingled strains of music. The little city was +evidently 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 frame +and sod. Kid Wolf read the signs on them as the horse trotted +southward: + +"Bar. Tony's Place. Saloon. General merchandise. Saddle shop. Bar. +Saloon. Hotel and bar. Well, well, seems as if we have mo' than ouah +share o' saloons heah. This seems to be the biggest one. Shall we +stop heah, Blizzahd?" + +There seemed to be no choice in the matter. One could take his pick of +saloons, for nothing else was open at this hour. The sign over the +largest read, "The Longhorn Palace." + +Kid Wolf left Blizzard at the hitch rack and sauntered through the open +doors. A lively scene met his eyes. It interested and at the same +time disgusted The Kid. A long bar stretched from the front door to +the end of the building, and a dozen or more men leaned against it in +various stages of intoxication. In spite of the fact that the saloon +interior was well lighted by suspended oil lamps, the air was thick and +foul with liquor fumes and cigarette smoke. A half dozen gambling +tables, 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 these +ornaments, 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 the +stakes and then by the men gathered there. It was a stiff game, +opening bets sometimes being as much as fifty dollars. Apparently the +lid was off. + +The hangers-on in the Longhorn seemed to be of one type and resembled +professional gunmen more than they did cattlemen. The men at the poker +table looked like desperadoes, and one of them especially took The +Kid's observing eye. + +A huge-chested man in a checkered shirt was at the head of the table +and seemed to have the game well in hand, for his chip stacks were +high, and a pile of gold pieces lay behind them. His closely cropped +black beard could not conceal the cruelty of his flaring nostrils and +sensual mouth. He was overbearing and loud of speech, and his +menacing, insolent stare seemed to have every one cowed. + +Kid Wolf was a keen student of men. He had learned to read human +nature, and this gambler interested him as a thoroughly brutal specimen. + +"It'll cost yuh-all another hundred to stay and see this out," the +bearded man announced with a sneer. + +"I'm out," grunted one of the players. + +Another, with "more in sight" than the bearded gambler, turned over his +cards in disgust, and with a chuckle of joy, the first speaker dragged +in the pot and added the chips to his mounting stacks. He seemed to +have the others buffaloed. + +The card players had been absorbed in their game until now. But as the +new 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' the +two. 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 the +mistake of thinking the stranger in awe of him. Many a man before him +had 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 this +game's too stiff fer yuh," he said. + +The expression of the Texan's face did not change, but curious little +flecks 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 the +players had united to fleece the newcomer, with the bearded desperado +leading the attack. + +At first, Kid Wolf lost, and the gambler--called "Blacksnake" McCoy by +the other men--added to his chip stacks. Then the game seesawed, after +which the Texan began to win small bets steadily. But the crisis was +coming. Sooner or later, Blacksnake would try to run Kid Wolf out, and +the Texan knew it. + +The size of the bets increased, and a little crowd began to gather +about the stud table. In spite of the fact that Blacksnake was a +swaggering, abusive-mouthed fellow, the sympathies of the Longhorn +loafers seemed to be with him. + +He seemed to be a sort of leader among them, and a group of sullen-eyed +gunmen 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 time +for big action had come. The pot was already large, and all had +dropped out except Blacksnake and the drawling stranger. + +"I'm raisin' yuh five hundred, 'Cotton-picker,'" sneered the bearded +man insolently. + +He had a pair of aces in sight--a formidable hand--and if his hole card +was also an ace, Kid Wolf had not a chance in the world. The best the +Texan could show up was a pair of treys. + +"My name, sah," said Kid Wolf politely, "is not Cotton-pickah, although +that 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 me +by mah last name. I'm seein' yo' bet and raisin' yo' another five +hundred, sah." + +At the name "Kid Wolf," a stir was felt in the crowded saloon. It was +a name many of them had heard before, and most of the loungers began to +look upon the stranger with more respect. Others frowned darkly. +Blacksnake was one of them. Plainly, what he had heard of The Kid did +not 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. He +only smiled gently. + +"We're playin' pokah now, I believe," he reminded. "Are yuh seein' mah +bet?" + +"That's right, bet 'em like yuh had 'em. And I hope yore hole card's +another three-spot, for that'll make it easy for my buried ace. I'm +seein' yuh and boostin' it--for yore pile!" + +Quietly The Kid swept all his chips into the center of the table. He +had called, and it was a show-down. With an oath, Blacksnake got half +to his feet. He turned his hole card over. It was a nine-spot, but he +had 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. He +had 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 away +faster than it had gone for it. Guns had appeared suddenly in the +Texan's two hands. His draw had been so swift that nobody had caught +the 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' it +right out. The aces in that deck were marked in the cornahs with +thumb-nail scratches. It might have gone hahd with me, if I hadn't +mahked the othah cahds too--with thumb-nail scratches!" + +"Yuh admit yuh marked them cards?" yelled Blacksnake in fury. "What +about it, men? He's a cheat and ought to be strung up!" + +Most of the onlookers were doing their best to conceal grins, and even +Blacksnake's sympathizers made no move to do anything. Perhaps The +Kid'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. But +when I saw that this game was not a gamble, but just a cool robbery, I +sat in." + +He holstered one of his guns and swooped up the pile of money from the +center of the table. This cleaned it, save for one pile of chips in +front 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-colored +fire and a puff of smoke. The top chip of Blacksnake's stack suddenly +had disappeared, neatly clipped off by The Kid's bullet. And the Texan +had shot casually from the hip, apparently without taking aim! + +Kid Wolf returned his still-smoking gun to its holster, turned his back +and sauntered leisurely toward the door. Halfway to it, he turned +quickly. He did not draw his guns again, but only looked Blacksnake +steadily 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, toward +which it had been furtively traveling. He had forgotten about the +bullet-scarred glass over the long bar. + +As the Texan strolled through the door, a man who had been watching the +scene 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 jostled +the speaker, apparently by accident. + +"Excuse me," drawled the Texan. "I didn't know yo' were so close +behind me." + +"I'm a friend," said the other earnestly. "Let's walk down the street +a way. I've something important to say--something that might interest +yuh." + +The Kid had appraised him at a glance, although this stranger was far +from being an ordinary person either in face or dress. His garb was +severe and clerical. He wore a long black coat, black trousers neatly +tucked into boots, a white shirt, and a flowing dark tie. Yet he was +not of the gambler type. He seemed to be unarmed, for he had no gun +belt. His face, seen from the reflected lights of the saloon, was +clean-shaven. His eyes seemed set too close together, and the lips +were 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 had +arrived that evening, he said, and he wasn't sure how long he would +remain in the vicinity. + +"How would yuh like," tempted the man who had styled himself Gentleman +John, "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 laughed +coldly. "Maybe I should tell yuh somethin' about myself. They call me +the 'Cattle King of New Mexico.' The man yuh bucked in the poker +game--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 got +ranches, cattle. I've managed to do well. I need gunmen--men who can +shoot fast and obey orders. I can see that yo're a better man than +Blacksnake. I'm payin' him fifty a day. Take his job, and yuh'll get +a hundred." + +Kid Wolf did not seem in the least enthusiastic, and the man in black +went on eagerly: + +"Yuh won a couple o' thousand to-night, Kid. But that won't last +forever. Think what a hundred in gold a day means. And all yuh have +to do is ter----" + +"Murdah!" snapped the Texan. "Yo've mistaken yo' man, sah. Mah answah +is 'no'! I'm not a hired killah, and the man who tries to hire me had +bettah beware. Why, yo're nothin' but a cheap cutthroat!" + +The cold eyes of the other suddenly blazed. He made a quick motion +toward his waistcoat with his thin hand. + +Kid Wolf laughed quietly. "Heah's yo' gun, sah," he said, handing the +astonished Gentleman John a small, ugly derringer. "When I bumped into +yo' in the doorway, I took the liberty to remove it. I nevah trust an +hombre with eyes like yo's. Nevah mind tryin' to use it, fo' I've +unloaded it." + +The face of the man in black was white with fury. His gimlet eyes had +narrowed to slits, and his mouth was distorted with rage. It was the +face of a killer--a murderer without conscience or pity. + +"I'll get yuh for this, Wolf!" he bellowed. "Yuh'll find out how +strong I am here. This country isn't big enough to hold us both, blast +yuh! When our trails meet again, take care!" + +The Kid raised one eyebrow. "I always do take care," he drawled. "And +while I'm heah in Skull County, yo'd bettah keep yo' dirty work undah +covah. Adios!" + +And humming musically under his breath, The Kid strolled toward the +hitch 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 the +vicinity. The Spanish fathers had built it for the Indians, and it +remained a sanctuary, in spite of the roughness and badness of the new +cow town. + +Early on the morning after Kid Wolf's arrival in the town, the old +padre was astonished to find a package of money inside his door. It +was addressed simply: "For the poor." It was a windfall and a +much-needed addition to the mission's meager finances. + +The padre considered it a gift from Heaven, and where it had come from +remained a mystery. The package contained two thousand dollars. +Needless to say, it was Kid Wolf's gift, and the money had been taken +from the town's dishonest gamblers. + +The Texan remained several days in Skull. He was in no hurry, and the +town interested him. Although he heard threats, he was left alone. He +saw no more of Gentleman John, nor did he see Blacksnake McCoy. They +had disappeared from town, probably on evil business of their own. + +A note thrust under The Kid's door at the hotel two mornings later +threatened 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 cattle +situation. The honest cattlemen, he found, were very much in the +minority. By force, murder, and illegal methods, Gentleman John had +obtained most of the land and practically all of the vast cattle herds +that roamed the rich rangelands surrounding the town on all sides. Yet +to most of the honest element, Gentleman John's true colors were not +known. He shielded himself, hiring others to do his unclean work. +There was no law as yet in the county. Gentleman John had managed to +keep it out. And even if there had been, it was doubtful if his crimes +could be pinned to him, for he had covered his tracks well. Many +thought him honest. Only The Kid's keen mind could sense almost +immediately what was going on. + +The country stretching out from Skull was wild and beautiful. It was +an unsettled land, and the trails that led into it were faint and +difficult to follow. + +One morning, Kid Wolf saddled Blizzard and rode into the southwest +toward the purple mountains tipped with snow. It was a beautiful day, +cool and crisp. The tang of the air in that high altitude was sharp +and invigorating. The big white horse swung into a joyous lope, and +the Texan hummed a Southern melody. + +Crossing a wide stretch of plain, they mounted a rise, and the +character of the country changed. The smell of sage gave way to the +penetrating odor of small pine, as they climbed into the broken +foothills that led, in a series of steps, toward the jagged peaks. +Splashing through a little creek of pure, cold water, The Kid turned +Blizzard'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 with +keen eyes that missed nothing. Suddenly he drew up his horse. +Blizzard had shied at something lying prone ahead of them, and The +Kid's eyes had seen it at the same instant. + +Stretched out on the sandy ground, The Kid saw, when he urged his horse +closer, was the body of a man, face down and arms flung out. A blotch +of red on the blue of the shirt told the significant story--a bullet +had got in its deadly work. Dismounting, the Texan found that the man +was 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 a +deepah-dyed villain than we even thought." + +He continued on up the pass, eyes and ears open. The white horse took +the climb as if it had been level ground, his hoofs ringing a brisk +tattoo against the stones. + +Nobody was in sight. The land stretched out on all sides--a vast +lonesomeness of rolling green and red, broken here and there by +towering rocks, grotesque in shape and twisted by erosion into a +thousand fanciful sculptures. But at the bottom of a dry wash, Kid +Wolf received a surprise. + +_Br-r-reee! Ping!_ A bullet breezed by his head, droning like a +hornet, and glanced sullenly against a flat rock. Immediately +afterward, The Kid heard the sharp bark of a .45. He knew by the sound +of the bullet and by the elapsed time between it and the sound of the +gun that he was within dangerous range. Crouching low in his saddle, +he wheeled Blizzard--already turned half around in mid-air--and cut up +the arroyo at a hot gallop. + +Flinging himself from his horse when he reached shelter, he touched +Blizzard lightly on the neck. The wise animal knew what that meant. +Without slackening its pace, it continued onward, its hoofs drumming a +rapid _clip-clop_, while its master was running in another direction +with his head low. + +Breaking up the ambush was easy. The Kid took advantage of every bit +of cover and went directly toward the sounds of the shots, for guns +were still barking. The men, whoever they were, were shooting in the +direction of the riderless horse. Squirming through a little piñon +thicket, Kid Wolf saw three men stationed behind a low ledge of red +sandstone. 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 deadly +black muzzles of The Kid's twin six-shooters. Automatically they +thrust 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 frank +and open. Then the Texan's eyes traveled to the youth's two +companions. Both were older men, typical cow-punchers, rough and +ready, and yet hardly of the same type of the men The Kid had noticed +in 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. "Yuh +know 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 The +Kid 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 thought +yo' were Blacksnake and his gang myself." He reholstered his guns. +"Put yo' hands down," he said, as he came toward them, "and we'll talk +this thing ovah." + +Reassured, the trio did so with sighs of relief. A few questions by +each helped to clear things up. The Kid told them who he was, and in +return 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 shore +been 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 only +punchers 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 of +all the longhorns on the Diamond D!" Red's lips tightened grimly. + +"Excuse us," spoke up one of the cowboys, Lefty Warren, "for takin' yuh +fer one o' them cutthroats, but we was b'ilin' mad. It's a good thing +fer 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 Blacksnake +got away with the herd," groaned the red-haired youth. "Reckon we'll +have 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 my +brother 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 biggest +cattlemen 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 we +intend to stop at the sod house and tell my brother, Joe, what's +happened--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 Warren +spoke up. "The odds are mighty bad against us, but they got one o' the +best punchers in the valley when they drilled Sam Whiteman." + +"I'm interested," Kid Wolf told them. "Do yo' mind if I throw in with +yo'?" + +"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' troubles +mine, 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, following +the trail left by the stolen beef herd. The four quickly became +friends. Kid Wolf liked them all from the first, and the Diamond D men +were overjoyed to have him enlisted in their cause. He learned that +Red Morton and his older brother, Joe, had worked hard to make the +Diamond D a success. The ranch had been left them by their father a +few years before, heavily burdened with debt. Now, until the +catastrophe of the day before, they were at the point of clearing it. +Evidently the brothers did not know of Gentleman John's criminal +methods, 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, but +he wouldn't. I'm not quite twenty-one, but I'm a man, and Joe knows +it." + +"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. Eight +hundred head." + +After a time, they swung off the trail they had been following, in +order to reach the sod house. Here Red expected to find his brother +and the other two Diamond D riders. + +"With them, that'll make seven of us," young Morton said. "Then we can +show that Blacksnake gang a fight that is a fight! There's over a +dozen of 'em, though I think Lefty here wounded one, just after +Whiteman was killed. We saw red stains on the sagebrush for a hundred +yards along the cattle trail." + +Mounting a long rise, they began to descend again. A fertile valley +stretched out beneath them, green with grass and watered by the bluest +little stream that Kid Wolf had ever seen. It was a lovely spot; it +was small wonder that Gentleman John wished to add the Diamond D to his +holdings. + +"That's Blue-bottle Creek," announced Red Morton. "Queer that we don't +see any cattle. There's not a steer in sight. They ought to be +feedin' through here." + +There was no sign of anything moving throughout all the basin, either +human or cattle. The silence was unbroken, save for the steady +drumming of the little party's pony hoofs. + +"There's the sod house--over there in those trees," said Red, after +another mile. + +He was worried. The two other Diamond D men, too, were showing signs +of nervousness. Had the south herd gone the way of the other? + +They neared the sod house--a structure crudely built of layers of +earth. It had one door and one window, and near it was a +corral--empty. There was no sign of any one about, and there was no +reply to Red's eager shout. + +"Oh, Joe!" he hailed. + +His face was a shade paler, as he quickly swung himself out of his +saddle. 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. Without +waiting for anything more, The Kid and the two Diamond D riders +dismounted and raced toward the sod hut. None of them was prepared for +the terrible thing they found there. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +ON BLACKSNAKE'S TRAIL + +At first, they could see little, for not much light filtered through +the small door and window. Then details of the interior began to grow +more distinct in the hut's one room. A tarp had been tacked over the +dirt ceiling to keep scorpions and centipedes from dropping down on the +bunks below. There was only a little furniture, and that of a crude +sort. Some of it was smashed, as if in a scuffle. + +These things, however, were not noticed until later. What the visitors +saw was the form of a man with legs and arms outstretched at queer +angles. + +Kid Wolf was accustomed to horrible sights, but he remembered this one +ever afterward. The scene was stamped on his mind like a fragment of +some wild nightmare. + +The body was that of a man a few years older than Red Morton, and the +features, though set and twisted, were the same. A rope had been tied +to one wrist and fastened to one wall; another rope had been knotted +about his other wrist and secured to the opposite side of the hut. The +legs had been served the same way at the ankles. On the body of the +suspended figure rocks had been piled. They were of many sizes, +varying from a few pounds to several hundred. It was easy to see how +the unhappy man had met his end--by slow torture. One by one, the +rocks had been placed on his chest and middle, the combined weight of +them first slowly pulling his limbs from their sockets and then +crushing out the life that remained. + +Red, after his first outcry of agony, took it bravely. The Kid threw +his arm sympathetically around the youth's shoulders and drew him away, +while the others cut the ropes that held the victim of the rustler +gang's cruelty. In a few minutes, Red got a grip on himself and could +talk in a steady voice. + +"Reckon I'm alone now, Kid," he blurted. "Joe was all I had--and they +got 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 in +this game." + +Near the body they found a piece of paper--a significant document, for +it explained the motive for the crime. Kid Wolf read it and +understood. It was written in straggling handwriting: + + +I, Joe Morton, do hereby sell and turn over all interest in the Diamond +D Ranch property, for value received. My signature is below, and +testifies that I have sold said ranch to Gentleman John, of Skull, New +Mexico. + + +There was, however, no signature at the space left at the bottom of the +paper. Joe Morton had died game! + +"He refused to sign," said The Kid quietly, "and that means that yo're +the 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 this +Gentleman John isn't----" + +"He's the man behind it all, mah boy," the Texan told him. And in a +few words, he related how he had been approached by the self-styled +cattle king, and something of his shady dealings. "He wanted to buy +me," he concluded, "not knowin' that I had nevah abused the powah of +the Colt fo' mah own gain. Blacksnake is his chief gunman, actin' by +Gentleman John's ordahs." + +"Where's the other men--the two riders on duty with Joe?" Lefty Warren +wanted to know. + +It did not take much of a search to find them. One had fallen near the +little corral, shot through the heart. The other lay a few hundred +yards away, at the river bank. He, too, was dead. + +"Mo' murdah," snapped the Texan grimly. "Well, we must make ouah +plans." + +In this sudden crisis, the other three left most of the planning to Kid +Wolf himself. First of all, the bodies were buried. Rocks were piled +on the hastily made graves to keep the coyotes out, and they were ready +to go again. + +The Texan decided to follow the trails left by the stolen cattle, for +both herds were gone now, driven off the Diamond D range. Failing in +their attempt to get Joe Morton's signature, the outlaws had evidently +decided to take what they could get. + +There was one big reason why Gentleman John wished to get his hands on +the Diamond D. Although land was plentiful in that early day, Red's +father had obtained a land grant from a Spanish governor--a grant that +still held good and kept other herds from the rich grazing land and +ample water along Blue-bottle Creek. + +As they started down the trail again toward the broken, mountainous +country 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 his +brother, Red was a man. + +"We'll soon overtake 'em," old Mike Train muttered, savagely twirling +the cylinder of his ancient .45. "Blacksnake's gang can't make fast +time with those steers. He's probably drivin' 'em to Gentleman John's +headquarters 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 up +Lefty Warren. "He's a whipper. He's beaten more'n one Mex to death +with it, and they say a white man or two. He can handle a blacksnake +like a demon." + +Kid Wolf smiled grimly. To have Blacksnake McCoy for an enemy was by +no means a pleasant thing to think about, especially when the desperado +was backed by all the power that his employer--Gentleman +John--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'm +afraid 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 perfectly +legitimate to scratch the aces with yo' fingah nail." + +They were soon off the limits of the Diamond D and on the Casas +Amarillas--a ranch owned by Gentleman John and taking its Spanish name +from two yellow houses of adobe several miles distant. They saw +scattered cattle branded with a Lazy J--one of Gentleman John's many +brands--but discovered no stragglers from the stolen Morton herds. + +Following the trail was easy, and they struck a hot pace down through +and out of the grassy valley, climbing through a pass and up on a +rolling mesa dotted with thirsty-looking sage. For two full hours they +rode, while the sun crept toward the west. Their horses were beginning +to tire. A line of cedar-sprinkled hills loomed up ahead of them, but +by 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', miles +away. If we cut down through those hills, we'll gain time, too, and +keep 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--dust +from the trampling hoofs of many cattle. They could cut off a full +mile by riding down into the cedars, and Red decided to do so. The Kid +was dubious, but said nothing more. If Blacksnake had a rear guard of +any kind, they might have been sighted. In that case, they would run +into 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 the +depths of the notch between the hills. The straggling growth of cedars +and stumpy evergreens loomed up ahead of them, and they crashed +through. For several hundred yards they tore their way and found their +pace slowed by the difficult going. The trees began to thin out. Then +they heard a spring tinkling down among the red rocks, and the cedars +began to thicken again, as the little canyon narrowed and climbed +steeply. + +"Stick 'em up!" + +Kid Wolf fired at the sound of the voice while the loud shout was still +echoing. His double draw was lightning fast. Before the others knew +what was taking place, his two guns had flashed. At the dull boom of +the twin explosions, a crashing sound was heard in the brush, as if +something was wildly threshing about. Then bullets began to rip and +smash their way through the undergrowth. Cedar twigs flew. + +With a yell, Mike Train slumped down over his saddle pommel and rolled +off his horse. At the same instant, the two others--Lefty Warren and +Red Morton--reached for their guns. The thing had happened so quickly +that 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 dropped +both his own guns. It was a surprising thing for the Texan to do, but +his mind had worked quickly. His sharp eyes had taken in the +situation. They were covered, and from all sides. His first quick +shots had brought one man down, but there were at least six others, and +all were behind shelter and had a deadly drop. If The Kid had been +alone, he would, no doubt, have shot it out there and then, using his +own peculiar tactics. But he had the others to think of. If they +touched their guns, they would be killed instantly. + +The Texan's doubts had been well founded. They should have kept to the +mesa top. They had jumped into a trap. Surrender was the only thing +to do now, for while there was life, there was hope. The Kid had +slipped from tight situations before. + +Lefty Warren, Red Morton, and The Kid elevated their hands. A low +laugh came from behind the cedar thicket, and a group of desperadoes on +foot slipped through, holding drawn and leveled Colts. In the lead was +Blacksnake McCoy. His eyes fell on Kid Wolf and widened with surprise. +Then his teeth showed through his close-cropped beard in a snarl of +hate. + +"Well, if it ain't the gamblin' Cotton-picker!" he ejaculated. "I +didn'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 two +Colts. + +"It'd 'a' been better fer yuh if yuh'd shot it out," sneered +Blacksnake, "because Gentleman John will have somethin' in store fer +yuh 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 or +later, 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, then +paled. He was trembling with fury and deadly hate. He turned to his +men. + +"Take the others up to the Yellow Houses and wait for me there," he +rasped. "Pedro, my whip's on my pony; bring it to me. I'm havin' this +out with Cotton-picker, alone! When I'm through with him, I'll bring +him on up. One of yuh ride up to the herd and tell Slim to let +Gentleman John know we've got 'em. He'll finish with Cotton-picker +when I'm done with him. Savvy?" + +A blacksnake was brought to McCoy, and the others roughly surrounded +Lefty 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 the +outlaw, his voice shaking with rage. "I'm goin' to make yuh crawl on +yore hands and knees, Cotton-picker!" + +He holstered his gun, watching Kid Wolf cunningly, and drew back a +little to give himself leeway with his whip. Then he began to roll up +his sleeve. + +"I'll make yuh beg, Cotton-picker," he taunted insultingly, as he bared +his brawny right arm. "And if yuh run, I'll shoot--not to kill; that'd +be too easy. I'll blow yore legs in two!" + +Kid Wolf had been pulled from his horse by the others, and the faithful +snow-white animal had been taken along up the pass with the two +prisoners. There seemed no way of escape. Blacksnake had him, and the +gang leader grinned confidently. + +"Yo're a bully, sah," drawled the Texan. It was as if he were +deliberately trying to get his enemy aroused to white-hot fury. + +The words seemed to have that effect. With a loud oath, Blacksnake +cracked his whip like a pistol shot. The whip was as strong and tough +as a bull whip, with a loaded stock and a long, braided lash, thick in +the 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 force +that it cut through the Texan's clothing and tore into his flesh. + +"Now take off yore shirt!" Blacksnake bellowed. "I'm goin' to flay yuh +alive! Take it off!" + +There was no sign of pain in Kid Wolf's face. He was still smiling +agreeably. Blacksnake McCoy did not know what was coming. The Texan +was not entirely disarmed. True, his Colts had been taken away, and he +was apparently helpless. The Kid, however, had his hole card that was +always in the deck. This was his keen bowie knife, which more than +once had saved his life. Cleverly concealed in its sheath sewn down +the back of his shirt collar, it had been overlooked in the outlaws' +quick search. Pretending to remove his shirt, The Kid's right hand +went to his throat and closed on the handle of the knife. + +Blacksnake, showing his teeth in a laugh of hate, stood a half dozen +feet away from him, swinging his cruel whip slowly from side to side, +waiting. He was holding the whipstock in his right hand, and that +favored 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 a +glimpse of the shining blade for one brief instant. His whip hand +moved toward the butt of his gun. But he was too late. Kid Wolf could +draw and throw his bowie as swiftly as he could pull his firearms. It +flashed through the air--a streak of dazzling light! The fang of the +wolf was striking! + +_Ping!_ The steel tore its way through the outlaw's right wrist. The +Texan's throw had been as true as a rifle bead. Blacksnake yelled and +tried to reach for his Colt with his left hand. + +Then The Kid leaped in. Blacksnake was still squirming about and +clawing for his .45 when the Texan's first blow landed. Blacksnake was +burly, powerful. He weighed well over two hundred, and his shoulders +were as broad as a gorilla's. But his bullet head went back with a +jerk, as the Texan's hard fist thudded heavily on his cheek bone. + +In the quick scuffle, the Big Colt slipped from Blacksnake's holster +and fell to the ground. With all his fury now, the outlaw was lashing +terrific, belting swings at Kid Wolf's head. The Texan dodged, elusive +as a shadow. He leaped in, bored with his right and jolted Blacksnake +from top to toe with a smashing left. The big outlaw staggered, then +jumped back and tried to scoop up his gun. His right hand was +helpless, however, and his left clumsy. His fingers missed it, and The +Kid hit him again, bringing Blacksnake to his knees, groggy-headed and +bleary-eyed. His hand closed over the whip. The stock was heavily +loaded with lead, and it was a terrible weapon when held reversed. One +blow 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 of +his eyes and came in, whip swung back! Kid Wolf had no time to duck +down for the gun. The heavy stock was humming through the air in a +swish of death! + +_Smash!_ Blacksnake rocked on his feet. His teeth had come together +with a click. He wabbled, swayed. His whip fell from his relaxed +fingers. The Kid's footwork had been as swift and cunning as a +mountain cat's! He had stepped aside, rocked his body in a pivot from +the hips and landed a knock-out punch full on the point of the +big-chested outlaw's jaw! With a grunt, Blacksnake went down, first to +his knees, and then face thudding the ground. He landed with such +force 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 jerking +his tangled hair. "All right. Snap out of it," he drawled. + +Blacksnake was out for a full two minutes. Gradually consciousness +began 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 be +very 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. For +he had his hand under Blacksnake's vest, and that hand held a .45! In +his left hand, the outlaw carried his whip. The other, wounded, was in +his trousers pocket. The Texan had ordered him to keep it there, out +of sight. + +The two adobes, crumbling to ruins, dated from the Spaniards. For many +years they had been used only as occasional stopping places for passing +riders. It was here that Blacksnake had ordered Red Morton and Lefty +Warren taken. + +Kid Wolf was free now, and had he wished, he could have made his +escape. That thought, however, did not enter the Texan's mind. He +must 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 be +sorry." + +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 on +the far horizon had disappeared. That meant that the stolen Diamond D +herd had been driven on. Blacksnake had been staying some distance in +the rear to keep off any possible pursuit. Kid Wolf had five other +outlaws to contend with--no, four. For Blacksnake had sent one of them +ahead with the herd. + +Odds meant nothing, however, to the Texan. He knew that surprise and +quick action always counted more than numbers. Everything now depended +on boldness. As they neared the two adobes, he pretended to reel and +stagger close against Blacksnake for support, as if he had been beaten +until he could hardly stand. This, too, allowed him to keep the gun +against 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 be +inside 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 how +yo' tell him." + +Blacksnake opened his lips to shout a warning, but felt the touch of +steel 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 of +them was habitable, and it was to this one that the outlaw went, with +Blacksnake and Kid Wolf following close behind. A yell greeted +Blacksnake's arrival with his supposed prisoner. + +"I thought yuh'd have to carry him back, Black, or drag him by the +heels," one voice shouted. "Yuh must've got tired." + +The time for action was at hand! The Kid and the outlaw stood framed +for 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 a +whisky flask, one of these being the man Blacksnake had sent inside. +The two prisoners--Lefty Warren and young Morton--were securely bound +in lariat rope, sitting against one wall. The Kid saw their eyes light +up as they recognized him. Evidently they had not expected to see him +again 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 known +what was coming, and he was unarmed. Kid Wolf was no longer reeling +and staggering. The desperadoes looked up to stare into the sinister +muzzle of a .45! + +"Shoot him to pieces!" Blacksnake yelled, picking himself up on all +fours and whirling to make a jump for The Kid's ankles. + +The Texan dodged to one side, his gun sweeping the room. A jet flame +darted from the barrel, and there was a crash of broken glass. He had +fired at the liquor flask that one of the outlaws still held at his +lips. + +"That's a remindah," he said crisply. "Put up yo' hands!" + +Guns blazed suddenly. Two of the bandits had reached for their weapons +at the same moment. The walls of the adobe shook under blended +explosions, and powder smoke drifted down like a curtain, turning the +figures of the men into drifting shadows. + +The firing was soon over. The Kid's gun had roared a swift tattoo of +hammering shots. Dust flew from the wall near his head, but he had +spoiled the aim of both outlaws by fast, hair-trigger shooting. One +sank against a broken-down bunk in one corner, reamed through the upper +right arm and chest. The other fired again, but his gun hand was +dangling, and he missed by a foot. Playing cards were scattered, as +the 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. The +short, powerful blow to the jaw sent the leader down for good. He +rolled over, stunned. + +"_Bueno._" The Texan smiled. "Keep yo' hands right theah, please, +caballeros." + +Before the powder fumes had cleared away, he had liberated Lefty and +Red with quick strokes of his bowie. + +"I reckon we've got the uppah hand now, boys." He smiled. "Let's try +and 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 an +enthusiastic pair that shook off their severed bonds to clap The Kid +across the back. There was no time for conversation now, however, and +they busied themselves with disarming their five prisoners and binding +them with rope. + +"Gee, Kid!" Red whistled. "We thought we were done, and when yuh came +in and made sparks fly--whew!" + +"Theah'll be moah spahks fly, I'm afraid," the Texan drawled. "How'd +yo' like to make some spahks fly yo'selves?" + +The others showed their eagerness. The fighting fever was in their +veins, especially since the death of poor Mike Train. And now, with +Blacksnake and half the outlaw gang captured, they felt that they had a +good part of the battle won. Red tried to question Blacksnake about +his 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 and +beaten him with his fists. And none of them could blame him. + +It was nearly dark, and they made quick plans The stolen herd was not +far ahead, and with it were not more than seven of Gentleman John's +riders. + +"We'll take those cattle away from 'em," said Red fiercely, "and head +the steers back to the Diamond D!" + +It was decided that the prisoners could be left where they were for the +time being, although Lefty Warren was for stringing them up there and +then. Kid Wolf shook his head at this suggestion, however, and they +armed themselves, "borrowing" the guns of the Blacksnake gang. Then +they 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 trio +climbed 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 some +good in the blackest. The men we're goin' to fight to-night, fo' +instance, are probably just driftahs who've drifted the wrong way. But +Gentleman 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 be +thinking of possible bloodshed in all that dream beauty seemed +terrible. Yet it was necessary. It was a hard land. A man had to be +his 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 over +there? And there's a camp fire, too." + +He was right. The glow of a fire reddened the horizon and the distant +bawling of uneasy cattle could be heard on the night wind. + +The rustlers had made a camp on the mesa until the dawn. The big herd +was 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 right +direction. Let's make a wide circle heah." + +They rode to the west, so that they would not be outlined against the +moon. A full, curving mile slipped under their horses' pounding hoofs +before The Kid gave the signal for the turn. He had the outlaws +spotted, every one, and all depended now on his generalship. He knew +that the two riders on the far side of the night herd would be out of +it--for the time, at least. When the herd started their mad stampede +toward the Diamond D, they would have a high time just taking care of +themselves. The others, five in number, would be dealt with first. + +The trio slipped closer as silently as moving phantoms. The Kid saw +three mounted men--two blocking their path, and the other on the far +wing. Two other outlaws were at the fire. The Texan sniffed and +smiled. They were making coffee. + +"The two at the fiah make excellent tahgets," murmured Kid Wolf. "I'll +leave them to yo', Red. Lefty, start now and ride toward the fah +ridah. 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 give +the coyote yell, and we'll start ouah little row. Don't kill unless +necessary, 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 who +leaped to their feet, reaching for their guns. Kid Wolf's great white +charger 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 their +saddles, they drew and opened up a splattering fire. Their guns winked +red flashes. + +Lefty's man had shown fight, Lefty had bowled him over with a double +trigger pull, and Lefty came racing back to help Red with the two +rustlers 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. Their +plunging bodies milled about, and with uplifted tails and tossing +horns, they were on the run northward toward the home range--the +Diamond D! + +Although it was a case of shoot or be killed now, The Kid was aiming to +cripple. A leaden slug burned a flesh wound just below his left +armpit, as he opened up on the two rustlers. His gun hammers stuttered +down, throwing bullets on both sides of him, as he drove Blizzard +between his two enemies at full tilt. One, raked with lead through +both shoulders, thudded from his pony to the ground. The other leaned +over 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 out +of the dangerous firelight and had opened up on Lefty and Red. Kid +Wolf's heart gave a little jump. Red was down! Lefty and one of the +bandits were engaged in a hand-to-hand scuffle, for Warren's horse had +been shot under him. The other outlaw had lifted his gun to finish +Red, who was crawling along the ground. The range was a good fifty +yards, but Kid Wolf fired three times. The rustler standing over Red +dropped. Lefty broke away from his man, just as The Kid rode up with +lariat swinging. + +"Don't shoot!" the Texan sang out. "I've got him!" + +The rope hummed through the air, spread out and tightened. The last of +the outlaws went off his feet with a jerk. + +"One of 'em's runnin' away!" yelled Lefty, pointing to the man Kid Wolf +had shot through the arm. He was making a hot race in the direction of +Skull. + +"Let him go," said The Kid. "We don't want him. See how bad Red's +hurt." + +Outlined against the eastern sky were three riders now, far away and +becoming rapidly smaller. The two north riders were making their +get-away, also. The victory was complete. + +To their relief, Lefty and The Kid found that Red had received only a +flesh wound above the knee. + +Kid Wolf tied the man he had caught with his lariat, then caught Red's +horse and one of the loose outlaw ponies for Lefty. + +"Now yo' ought to be able to ease those Diamond D cattle on home," he +drawled. "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 his +headquartahs at Agua Frio?" + +"About nine miles straight west, over the mesa. But say, yuh'd better +let one of us go with yuh." + +The Texan shook his head. "I'm playin' a lone hand, Red. Yo' job is +to 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. The +moon had gone down, and all was pitch dark. It was nearly morning. + +He had heard something--for Gentleman John was a light sleeper. He +listened intently, then sat on the edge of his bed to draw on his +boots. The sound came again from the direction of the patio. Had his +man, José, forgotten to lock the gate? Surely he had heard the chain +rattling! Some horse, no doubt, or possibly a mule, had strayed into +the little courtyard. Perhaps it was some of his men returning. And +yet 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, as +if some one were moving about. + +"José!" Gentleman John called angrily. "What are yuh fumblin' at in +there? 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 a +small lamp by his bedside. Then he slyly drew a derringer from under +his 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 face +that 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. But +if 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 his +black and ugly double-barreled pistol! + +_Span-ng-g-g-g! Br-r-rang!_ Both barrels of the derringer exploded in +two quick roars. The leaden balls, however, went wild. A steel hand +had 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, and +with 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 to +know bettah than to use a toy like that. Sit down on the bed, sah. I +have 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." Kid +Wolf rolled a cigarette and lighted it over the lamp chimney. +"Gentleman John," he drawled, "whoevah named yo' suah had a sense of +humah. Yo' are a murderah, and a cowardly one, because yo' have othahs +do 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 the +circumstances," said The Kid mildly. "I'm not heah to kill yo'. I'm +heah 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 I +spent in town. Theah's a new cattlemen's organization theah--and +they'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 evidence +when they murdahed Joe Morton. They left the bill o' sale he wouldn't +sign! 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 pen +near the lamp. Placing his gun at his elbow, within easy reach, the +Texan wrote steadily for a full minute. Then he turned and handed the +cattle king the slip of paper. + +"Yo' through in Nueva Mex, Gentleman John," The Kid drawled. "It's +just 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 Gentleman +John. + +"Yo' won't be in this country to contest it," Kid Wolf drawled. "This +won't in any way repay Red fo' the loss of his brothah, but it's +something. 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 The +Kid softly. + +Beads of sweat suddenly stood out on Gentleman John's forehead. His +own guilty conscience told him that what The Kid said was true. His +gimlet 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 that +yo' face the ones yo' have wronged. And justice has always been my +guidin' stah. I'm a soldier of misfohtune, fightin' fo' the undah +dawg. I'm takin' yo' to Skull, sah." + +Gentleman John groaned in terror. All the blustering bravado had gone +out 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 weight +in Skull, undah the new ordah of things. If yo' sign--thus doin' right +by Red Morton, whom yo' wronged--I'll do what I can to save yo' from +the rope, but I can't promise that yo'll escape it. Are yo' signin'?" + +Gentleman John moistened his lips feverishly, and his hand trembled as +he reached for the pen. + +"I'll sign," he groaned. + +When he had scratched his signature, Kid Wolf took the paper, folded it +carefully and put it in his pocket. + +"_Bueno,_" he said softly. "Now get yo' hat and coat. I hate to rob +yo' 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 verse +to his favorite tune, "On the Rio." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +APACHES + +In the half light of the early morning, a stagecoach was rattling down +a steep hill near the New Mexico-Arizona boundary line. The team of +six bronchos fought against the weight of the lumbering vehicle behind, +with stiff front legs threw themselves back against their harness. The +driver, high on his box, sawed at the lines with his foot heavy on the +creaking 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 it +before, and knew that he didn't mean a word he said. They were almost +at the foot of the hill now, and the thick white dust, kicked up in +choking spurts by the rumbling wheels, sifted down on the leathery +mesquite and dagger plants below. + +"I don't like the looks o' that brush down there," said the other man +on the box. He was an express guard, and across his knees was a +sawed-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 not +yet come to that savage country of flaming desert and baking mountain. +Even a worse peril than the operations of the renegades and bad men of +the border was the threat of the Apaches. Behind any clump of +mesquites a body of these grim and terrible fighters of the arid lands +might lurk, eager for murder and robbery. And it was rumored that a +chief even more cruel than Geronimo, Cochise, or Mangus Colorado was at +their head. + +The men who operated the stage line knew the risk they were taking in +that unbroken country, but they were of the type that could look danger +in the face and laugh. The two steely-eyed men on the coach box, this +gray morning, were samples of the breed. + +Inside the vehicle were four passengers. Three of them were men past +middle life--miners and cattlemen. The third was a youth who addressed +one of the older men as "father." All were armed with six-guns, and +all were bound for the valley of San Simon. + +The stage had reached the bottom of the hill now, and as the team +reached the level ground, the driver lined them out and settled back in +his seat with a satisfied grunt. About both sides of the trail at this +point grew great thickets of brush--paloverde, the darker mesquites, +and grotesque bunches of prickly pear. One of the bronchos suddenly +reared backward. + +"Steady, yuh ornery----" the driver began. + +He did not finish. There was a sharp twang! An arrow whistled out of +the mesquites and buried itself in the side of the coach nearly to the +feather! As if this were a signal, a dozen rifles cracked out from the +brush. Bowstrings snapped, and a shower of arrows and lead hummed +around the heads of the frightened ponies. The driver cried out in +pain 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 smoke +as 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 something +to 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 were +mounted, and others were on foot. All charged the coach. + +There must have been fifty in the swarm, and still they came! Those +that 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, plunging +and kicking at the harness in their death agony. The other +animals--some wounded, and all of them mad with fright--overturned the +old stagecoach. With a loud crash, the vehicle went over on its side! +The driver and guard, teeth bared in grins of fury, raised their +six-guns and prepared to sell their lives as dearly as possible. The +passengers inside began firing desperately. + +The renegade Indians rushed. They nearly gained the wrecked stage, but +not quite. Before the straight shooting of the trapped whites, they +fell back to cover again. They did not believe in taking unnecessary +chances. They had their victims where they wanted them, and it would +be only a question of time before they would be slaughtered. The fight +became a siege. + +It was sixty against six--or, rather, it was sixty to five. For the +redskins had increased the odds by shooting down the driver. The +second 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 a +waiting game. The fire, for a moment, ceased. + +"They'll rush again in a minute," muttered the guard. "We'll do well +to 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 his +revolver. + +He was a broad-shouldered, big-chested man of fifty--the father of the +youth who was now fighting beside him. + +The guard shook his head. "Afraid not. Unless one of us could get +through to Lost Springs, six miles from here. Even if we could, I +don't think we'd get any help. There's not many livin' there, and +they'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 powder +spurts blossomed out from the brush, and the war cry came shrilly. The +rush brought a line of half-naked warriors to within a few yards of the +coach. Then they fell back again, leaving four of their number dead or +wounded 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 up +quickly: + +"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 told +him. + +"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 the +two would ever see each other alive again. But father and son shook +hands 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 savages +by 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 down +into an arroyo. A score of warriors swarmed after him, firing shot +after 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 been +called a town--sprawled in a valley of cottonwoods, a scattering of +low-roofed adobes. To find such an oasis, after traveling the +heat-tortured wilderness to the east or the west, was such relief to +the wayfarer that few missed stopping. + +There was but one public building in the place--a large building of +plastered earth which was at the same time a saloon, a store, a +gambling hall, and a meeting place for those who cared to partake of +its hospitality. + +The crude sign over the narrow door read: "Garvey's Place." It was +enough. Garvey was the storekeeper, the master of the gamblers, and +the saloon owner. Lost Springs was a one-man town, and that man was +Gil Garvey. His reputation was not of the best. Dark marks had been +chalked up against his record, and his past was shady, too. There were +whispers, too, of even worse things. It was, however, a land where +nobody asked questions. It was too dangerous. Garvey was accepted in +Lost Springs because he had power. + +It was a hot morning. The thermometer outside Garvey's door already +registered one hundred and five. Heat devils chased one another across +the 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, there +were perhaps a dozen men in the house besides Garvey himself. Garvey +was tending bar, which was his habit until noon, when his bartender +relieved him. + +Gil Garvey was a menacing figure of a man, massive of build and +sinister of face. His jet-black eyebrows met in the center of his +scowling forehead, and under them gleamed eyes cold and dangerous. A +thin wisp of a dark mustache contrasted with the quick gleam of his +strong, white teeth. On the rare occasions when he laughed, his mirth +was like the hungry snarl of a wolf. + +The sprinkling of drinkers at the bar strolled over to watch the faro +game, and Garvey, taking off his soiled apron, joined them, lighting a +black cigar. The ruler of Lost Springs moved lightly on his feet for +so heavy a man. Around his waist was a gun belt from which swung a +silver-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 the +door for a look outside. A score of questions were fired at the +newcomer. + +"They're attackin' the stage at the foot of the pass!" explained the +messenger. + +There were sighs of relief at this bit of news, for at first they had +thought that the red warriors were about to enter the town. But six +miles away! That was a different matter. + +"I'm Dave Robbins," the youth went on desperately. "I've got to go +back there with help. When I left, they were holdin' 'em off. Fifty +or sixty Indians!" + +Some of the saloon customers began to murmur their sympathy. But it +was evident that they were none too eager to go to the aid of the +ambushed stagecoach. + +Young Robbins--covered with dust, his face scratched by cactus thorns, +and with an arrow still hanging from his clothing--saw the indifference +in their eyes. + +"Surely yuh'll go!" he pleaded. "Yuh--yuh've got to! My father's in +the coach!" + +Garvey spoke up, smiling behind his mustache. + +"What could we do against sixty Apaches?" he demanded. "Besides, the +men in the stage are dead ones by this time. We couldn't do any good." + +Robbins' face went white. With clenched fists, he advanced toward +Garvey. + +"Yo're cowards, that's all!" he cried. "Cowards! And yo're the +biggest one of 'em all!" + +Garvey drew back his huge arm and sent his fist crashing into the +youth's face. Robbins, weak and exhausted as he was, went sprawling to +the floor. + +And at that moment the swinging doors of the saloon opened wide. The +man who stood framed there, sweeping the room with cool, calm eyes, was +scarcely older than the youth who had been slugged down. His rather +long, fair hair was in contrast with the golden tan of his face. He +wore a shirt of fringed buckskin, open at the neck. His trousers were +tucked into silver-studded riding boots, weighted with spurs that +jingled in tune to his swinging stride. At each trim hip was the butt +of 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 sparkle +behind them. He was silent for a long moment, and when he finally +spoke, 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 the +stranger. 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 dangerous +there, for he drew back a step, content with muttering oaths under his +breath. + +"What's the trouble?" the stranger asked Robbins quietly. + +The youth seemed to know that he had found a friend, for he at once +told the story of the ambushed stage. + +"I came here for help," he concluded, "and was turned down. These men +are 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 to +face the gathered company. "And these othah men are goin' to throw in +with yo', too!" + +The men in the saloon stood aghast, open-mouthed. But they didn't +hesitate long. When the stranger spoke again, his words came like the +crack of a whip: + +"Get yo' hosses!" + +Garvey's heavy-jawed face went purple with fury. That this young +unknown dared to try such high-handed methods so boldly in Lost +Springs--which he ruled--maddened him! His big hand slid down toward +his hip with the rapidity of a lightning bolt. + +There was a resounding crash--a burst of red flame. Garvey's hand +never closed over his gun butt. The stranger had drawn and fired so +quickly that nobody saw his arm move. And the reason that the amazed +Garvey did not touch the handle of his .44 was because there was no +handle there! The young newcomer's bullet had struck the butt of the +holstered gun and smashed it to bits. + +Garvey stared at the handleless gun as if stupefied. Then his amazed +glance fell upon the stranger, who was smiling easily through the +flickering powder fumes. + +"Who--who are yuh?" he stammered. + +The stranger smiled. "Kid Wolf," he drawled, "from Texas, sah. My +friends 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 a +name well known west of the Chisholm Trail. His reputation had been +passed by word of mouth along the border until there were few who had +not heard of his deeds. His very name seemed to fill the riffraff of +the barroom with courage. Some of them cheered, and all prepared to +obey the young Texan's orders. Every one was soon busy loading and +examining six-guns. + +Garvey was the one exception. He was infuriated, and his malignant +eyes gleamed with hate. Kid Wolf had made an enemy. He was, however, +accustomed to that. Smiling ironically, he faced Garvey, who was +quivering all over with helpless rage. + +"Yo' won't need to come along," he drawled. "I'd rathah have Apaches +in front of me than yo' behind me." + +Kid Wolf lost no time in rounding up his hastily drafted posse. A +horse was procured for Robbins and The Kid prepared to ride by his +side. Kid Wolf's horse was "tied to the ground" outside, and a shout +of genuine admiration went up as the men caught sight of the +magnificent creature, beautiful with muscular grace. Swinging into his +California 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 were +armed with six-guns. Now that they were actually on the way, the men +seemed eager for the battle. Perhaps Kid Wolf's cool and determined +leadership 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 hot +fo' those Apaches." + +After a few minutes of fast going, they could hear the faint crackling +of gunfire ahead of them, carried on the torrid wind. Robbins +brightened, for this meant that some survivors still remained on their +feet. Kid Wolf, experienced in Indian warfare, understood the +situation at once, and ordered his men to scatter and come in on the +Indians 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 rest +of yo' come in from the west and south. Make every shot count, fo' if +we don't scattah the Apaches at the first chahge, we will be at a big +disadvantage!" + +It was a desperate situation, with the odds nearly five to one against +them. Reaching the pass, they could look down on the battle from the +cover of the mesquites. From the overturned stage, thin jets of fire +streaked steadily, and a pall of white smoke hung over it like a cloud. +From the brush, other gun flashes answered the fire. Occasionally a +writhing brown body could be seen, crawling from point to point. The +thicket seemed to be alive with them. + +Kid Wolf listened for a moment to the faint popping of the guns. Then +he raised his hand in a signal. + +"Let's go!" he sang out. + +A second later, Blizzard was pounding down the pass like a snowstorm +before the wind. + +The leader of this band of murderous Apaches was a youthful warrior +named Bear Claw, the son of the tribal chief. Peering at the coach +from his post behind a clump of paloverde, his cruel face was lighted +by 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 the +occasion demanded. + +Bear Claw was in high good humor, for he saw that the ambushed victims +in the stage could not hope to hold out much longer. Only three +remained alive in the coach, and some of these were wounded. The white +men's fire was becoming less accurate. + +The young leader of the Apaches was horrible to look at. He was naked +save for a breechcloth and boot moccasins and his face was daubed with +ocher and vermilion. Across his lean chest, too, was a smear of paint +just under the necklace of bear claws that gave him his name. He was +armed with a .50-caliber Sharps single-shot rifle and with the only +revolver in the tribe--an old-fashioned cap-and-ball six-shooter, taken +from some murdered prospector. + +Bear Claw was about to raise his left hand--a signal for the final rush +that would wipe out the white men in the overturned coach--when a +terrific volley burst out like rattling thunder from all sides. +Bullets raked the brush in a deadly hail. An Indian a few paces from +Bear Claw jumped up with a weird yell and fell back again, pierced +through the body. + +The young chief saw whirlwinds of dust swooping down on the scene from +every direction. In those whirlwinds, he knew, were horses. Bear Claw +had courage only when the odds were with him. How many men were in the +attacking 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 the +startled 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 the +white posse, more than four to one. Throwing himself on his horse, he +decided to set his renegade warriors an example. Giving the Apache war +whoop, 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-white +horse--he went at him with leveled revolver. + +What happened then unnerved the Apaches at Bear Claw's back. The man +Bear Claw had charged was Kid Wolf! The Texan did not return the +Indian's blaze of revolver fire. He merely ducked low in his saddle +and 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 a +terrific jolt. The weight of both speeding horses was behind the +impact. Something snapped. Bear Claw went off his pony's back like a +bag of meal and landed on the sand, his head at a queer angle. His +neck was broken! + +Then Kid Wolf's guns began to talk. Fire burst from the level of both +his hips as he put spurs to Blizzard and charged with head low directly +into the amazed Apaches. The others, too, followed the Texan's +example, but it was Kid Wolf who turned the trick. It was the deciding +card, and without their chief, the redskins were panic-stricken. The +only thing they thought of now was escape. The little hoofs of their +ponies began to drum madly. But instead of rushing in the direction of +the whites, they drummed away from them. Kid Wolf ordered his men not +to 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 the +encounter, raced back to the overturned coach. The vehicle, riddled +with bullets and arrows, resembled a butcher's shop. On the ground +near it was the body of the driver, while the guard, hit in a dozen +places, lay half in and half out of the coach, dead. + +Young Robbins had left four men alive when he made his escape toward +Lost Springs. There now remained only two. And one of these, it could +be 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. He +was quick to note that the man was beyond any human aid. The +frontiersman, his six-gun still emitting a curl of blue smoke, was +placed 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'm +glad the Apaches won't have me to--chop up afterward. Take my word for +it--there's some white man--behind this. There's twenty thousand +dollars in the express box----" + +His words trailed off, and with a moan, he breathed his last. Kid Wolf +gently 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 to +the bar and took several drinks of his own liquor. It was a fiery red +whisky distilled from wheat, and of the type known to the Indians as +"fire water." It did not put Garvey in any better humor. Wiping his +lips, 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 with +a few well-directed kicks. The Indian's eyes widened with fear at the +sight of the white man's rage-distorted face, and when he had heard his +orders, 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 Mexicans +entered 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 to +the door to see five riders approaching Lost Springs from the north. +He waved his hand to them before they had left the cover of the +cottonwoods. + +The group of sunburned, booted men who hastily entered Garvey's Place +were individuals of the Lost Springs ruler's own stamp. All were +gunmen, and some wore two revolvers. Most of them were wanted by the +law for dark deeds done elsewhere. Sheriffs from the Texas Panhandle +would have recognized two of them as Al and Andy Arnold--brother +murderers. Another was a killer chased out of Dodge City, Kansas--a +slender, quick-fingered youth known as "Pick" Stephenson. Henry +Shank--a gunman from Lincoln, New Mexico--strode in their lead. + +The fifth member of the quintet was the most terrible of them all. He +was a half-breed Apache, dressed partly in the Indian way and partly +like 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 a +cat's. This man--Garvey's go-between--was Charley Hood. He grinned +continually, but his smile was like the snarl of a snapping dog. + +"What's up, Garvey?" Shank demanded. "We was just ready to start out +fer a cattle clean-up." + +"Plenty's up," snarled Garvey. "Help yoreselves to liquor while I tell +yuh. 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 fails +us----" + +"A twenty-thousand-dollar job!" Shank barked angrily. "And we get +half!" + +"We get all," chuckled Garvey. "The Apaches will give their share to +me for fire water. That's why this must go through. If Bear Claw and +his 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 the +significant 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 no +law west o' the Pecos! And he's west o' the Pecos now! The only law +here 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 had +been in workin' order, I'd have got this Kid Wolf the minute he opened +his 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 think +o' this?" And he laid a chunk of ore on the bar under the saloon +keeper's nose. + +"Solid silver!" Garvey gasped. "Where's it from?" + +"From the valley of the San Simon. It's from land owned--owned, mind +yuh--by an hombre named Robbins. Gov'ment grant." + +"We'll figger a way to get it," returned Garvey, then his eyes +narrowed. "What name did yuh say?" + +"Robbins. Bill Robbins." + +Garvey grinned. "Why, he was on the stage! It was his kid that came +here 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. An +Indian 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 has +to say." + +The Indian runner's words, gasped in halting, broken English, brought +consternation to Garvey and his treacherous gunmen: + +"No get money box. Have keel two-three, maybe more, of white men in +stage wagon. Then riders come. White chief on white devil horse, he +break Bear Claw's neck. Bear Claw die. We ride away as fast as could +do. White men fix stage wagon. Hunt for horse to drive it to Lost +Springs." + +Garvey clenched his huge fists. + +"Get me another gun!" he rasped. "We'll have this out with Kid Wolf +right now!" + +Charley Hood spoke for the first time, and his bestial face with +distorted with rage. + +"Bear Claw son of Great Chief Yellow Skull! Yellow Skull get Keed Wolf +if 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. Wolf +from Texas a favor by puttin' lead through him. Bear Claw was Yellow +Skull's favorite. The old chief is an expert at torture. I'd like to +be on hand to see it. But I've got an idea. Shank, have José dig a +grave on Boot Hill--make it two of 'em. We've got to get that express +money." + +"And the silver," chuckled the desperado, as he took a farewell drink +at the bar. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +TWO OPEN GRAVES + +It was some time before the overturned stagecoach could be righted. It +took longer to provide a team for it. When the bodies of the +unfortunate white men had been loaded into the vehicle and the ponies +lined out it was late in the afternoon. + +Kid Wolf had examined the contents of the express box and found that it +contained a small fortune in money. He decided to take charge of it +and see that it reached proper hands. Twenty miles west of Lost +Springs, he learned, were an express-company station and agent. The +Texan planned to guard the money at Lost Springs overnight and then +take it on to the express post, located at Mexican Tanks. + +The two Robbinses, both father and son, were overcome with gratitude +toward the man who had saved them. They at once agreed to stay with +Kid Wolf. + +The posse members that the Texan had drafted at revolver point were not +so willing. Although most of them were honest men, they feared +Garvey's gang and the consequences of their act. All of them suspected +that Garvey had a hand in the plot to rob the stagecoach. Most of them +made excuses and rode away in different directions. + +"We beat the Apaches," explained one, "so I reckon I'll go back to the +ranch. Adios, and good luck!" + +Kid Wolf smiled. He knew that the men were leaving him for other +reasons. Perhaps a man with less courage would have avoided Lost +Springs, or even abandoned the money. The young Texan, however, was +not to be swerved from what he believed to be the right. + +"Look out for Garvey, Kid," begged Dave Robbins. "He hates yuh for +what yuh done." + +"I've heard of him," the elder Robbins added. "If helpin' us has got +you 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 in +the 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 see +this 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 the +vehicle, and beside him on the box rode the two Robbinses, father and +son. + +The road to Lost Springs was not the direct route the Indian messenger +had taken. It led around steep side hills and high-banked washes in +which nothing grew but tough, stunted clumps of thirsty paloverde. +Near the tiny settlement, the trail climbed a long slope to swing +around a cactus-cluttered mound which served as Lost Springs' Boot +Hill. The stage trail cut the barren little graveyard in two, and on +both sides of it were headboards, some rotting with age, and others +quite new, marking the last resting places of men who had died with +smoke in their eyes. + +It was nearly sundown when Kid Wolf and the party with the +bullet-riddled coach reached this point. They found a group of +hard-eyed men waiting for them. With Garvey were his five gunmen, +mounted, armed to the teeth, and blocking the road! Kid Wolf caught +the driver's eyes and nodded for him to go on. The stage rumbled up to +the spot where Garvey waited. + +"Stop!" the Lost Springs ruler snarled. "I reckon we want some words +with 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 over +that express money." + +"And the next thing?" the Texan asked softly. + +"Next thing, we got business with that man!" Garvey pointed to Dave +Robbins' father. + +"With me?" Robbins demanded in astonishment. + +"The same. We want yuh to sign this paper, turnin' over yore claim in +the 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 on +it. 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 the +merest trifle. + +"Here's the answer!" Garvey rasped. He pointed at two mounds of +freshly disturbed earth a few feet from the road. "Read what's written +over 'em, and take yore choice." + +Kid Wolf saw that two headboards had been erected near the shallow +graves. One of them had the following significant epitaph written on +it in neatly printed Spanish: + + _Aqui llacen restos de Kid Wolf._ + +This in English was translated: "Here lies in the grave, at rest, Kid +Wolf." + +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 come +through. Now what's yore answer?" + +"Garvey," spoke up Kid Wolf, "I've known of othah white men who hired +the Apaches to do their dirty work. They all came to a bad end. And +so, 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 snapped +down at his hips. Al Arnold, alone of the six riders, saw the movement +in time even to think about drawing his own weapon. And perhaps it +would have been better if he had not seen, for his own gun pull was +slow and clumsy in comparison with Kid Wolf's. His right hand had +moved but a few inches when the Texan's left-hand Colt spat a wicked +tongue of flame. + +Before the thunder of the explosion could be heard, the leaden slug +tore its way through Arnold's wrist. Before the puff of black powder +smoke had drifted away, Arnold's gun was thudding to the ground. The +others 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, and +they hesitated. Garvey himself remained motionless, frozen in the +saddle. His lips trembled with rage. + +"I'm not a killah," Kid Wolf drawled. "I nevah take life unless it's +forced on me. If I did, I'd soon make Lost Springs a bettah place to +live in. Now turn yo' backs with yo' hands in the air--and ride! The +next time I shoot, it's goin' to be on sight! Vamose! Pronto!" + +Muttering angrily under their breath, Garvey and his gunmen obeyed the +order. Yet Kid Wolf knew that the trouble had not been averted, but +merely postponed. He was not through with the Lost Springs bandit gang. + + +The driver of the coach--the only member of the posse who had remained +loyal in the face of peril--was a man of courage. Johnson was his +name, 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 Mexes +and Injuns with him before mornin'." + +Kid Wolf accepted, and the coach was deserted. They buried the bodies +of the men they had brought in the stage, not in the Lost Springs +graveyard, but in an arroyo near it. Then they removed the valuable +express 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 from +the Springs, and still closer to Boot Hill. On the side next to the +water hole, the grass and tulles grew nearly waist-high. On the other +three 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. As +a great deal might depend upon having horses ready, Blizzard, along +with two pinto ponies, was quartered in the other apartment. This +redone, and with one of the four men standing watch at all times, they +prepared 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 the +tulles." + +They watched him proceed warily toward the water hole. The landscape +was 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 sparkling +on the water as he swung along. Then suddenly a shot rang out +sharply--the unmistakable crack of a Sharps .50-caliber rifle! Without +a 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. It +was all that Kid Wolf could do to hold back the excitable younger +Robbins, who wanted to avenge their friend's death immediately. + +"No use fo' us to show ouahselves until we know how the cahds are +stacked," 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 in +the tulles or beyond them. They were soon to find that there were far +too 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 fired +twice, and then twice again. As far as the others could see, there was +nothing in view to shoot at; but agitated threshings about in the +tulles showed them that at least some of his bullets had found human +lodging places. + +Garvey had evidently succeeded in adding men to his gang, for more than +a 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 contented +themselves with sending lead humming through the small window on the +exposed 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 can +turn up twelve lead aces fo' a show-down. And I have anothah ace--a +steel one, that's always in the deck." + +The Texan saw as well as the others how desperate the situation had +become. He knew that death would be the probable outcome for all of +them. + +Kid Wolf, however, was not a type of man who gave up. If they must go +out, he decided, they would go out fighting. + +The sun climbed the sky and disappeared over the distant blue range to +the west, leaving the desert behind bathed in warm reds and soft +purples. Then the shadows deepened, and night fell. + +With it came a full moon, riding high out of the southeast--a +pumpkin-colored, gigantic Arizona moon that changed to shining silver. +Its light illuminated the scene and turned the landscape nearly as +bright as day. This was a fact in favor of the three men cornered in +the adobe. The attackers dared not show themselves in a rush. All +night long their guns cracked, and they continued to do so when the +east 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 from +intense thirst. The little adobe was like an oven. The sun burned +down pitilessly, distorting the air with waves of heat, and drawing +mocking mirages in the sky. Bullets still hummed and buzzed about +them. Every hissing slug seemed to whistle the mournful tune of +"Death--death--death!" Late in the afternoon, the elder Robbins could +endure the torture no longer. + +"I'm goin' after water!" he cried. + +Neither his son nor Kid Wolf could reason with him. He would not +listen. He reasoned that although it was death to venture to the +spring, 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. Promise +yuh'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, but +Robbins was past reasoning. Lurching through the door, he ran outside +the 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 smoke +blossomed out from the high grass--half a score of them! Bill Robbins +staggered on his feet, reeled on a few steps, and then fell. His body +had been riddled. + +Kid Wolf's touch was tender as he took the orphaned youth's hand in his +own. 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 hope +we'll meet it as bravely. I have a plan. If we escape, we must do it +to-night. Can yo' stick it out till then?" + +Young Robbins nodded. The death of his father had been a great shock +to him, but he did not flinch. In that desperate hour, Kid Wolf knew +that 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 a +mystery to them. Their throats were parched, and their eyes bloodshot. +To make matters worse, their horses, too, were suffering. Blizzard +nickered softly from time to time, but quieted when Kid Wolf called to +him 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 and +Dave Robbins saw something that made them boil inwardly--the burial of +Bill 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 to +complete his boast. The Texan's grave still waited! + +A thin bank of clouds rolled up to obscure somewhat the light of the +moon. This was what Kid Wolf had been waiting for. It was their only +chance. + +"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 me +latah, if I make it. I don't dare ride him, because he's white and too +good a tahget in the moon. I'll have to crawl toward Boot Hill. It's +the 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 and +careful as an Indian, and take yo' time. If anything should happen to +me, strike fo' yo' place on the San Simon. The reason I'm goin' first +is so that yo' can escape in the excitement if they spot me. Heah's +luck! I'll turn my hoss loose now." + +They shook hands. Then, like a lithe moving shadow, the Texan crept +out into the night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +PURSUIT + +Fire flames darted occasionally from the high tulles, licking the +darkness like the tongues of venomous serpents. Rifles cracked, and +bullets, fired at random, buzzed across the sand flats. Kid Wolf had +an uncomfortable few minutes ahead of him. + +Whenever the moon peeped out of its flying blanket of cloud, he was +forced to lie flat and motionless on the ground. Lead often spattered +uncomfortably 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 to +safety. Blizzard, well trained, would follow him if he managed to +elude 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 was +hardly likely that any watchers remained on the hill. + +But Kid Wolf received a thrill of horror and surprise. The moon +drifted free of its cloud curtain for a moment. He was standing not a +dozen 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 the +half-breed, Charley Hood! His cruel lips were parted in a terrible +smile as he slowly raised the weapon to a level with his eyes! + + +While Kid Wolf had been creeping toward Boot Hill, Dave Robbins was in +the adobe hut, counting the dragging minutes. The suspense, now that +the time for action was at hand, was nerve-racking. Would the Texan +make it? Robbins strained his ears for the triumphant yells that would +announce The Kid's death or capture. + +As the seconds grew to minutes, he began to breathe easier. When it +seemed to him that a half hour had passed, he prepared to follow. The +moon, however, was now too bright, and he had to wait fully a quarter +of an hour more before the light faded to shadow again. When the +moment arrived, he squirmed through the doorway and across the sands on +his hands and knees. + +Dave Robbins was frontier bred, and although his progress was slower +than the Texan's had been, he crept along as silently as one of the +redskins themselves. Not a mesquite twig snapped under his body; not a +pebble rattled. It seemed to take him hours to reach the hill which +Kid Wolf had pointed out to him. As he did so, the moonlight again +became 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 looked +around him, trying to decide where he was and what to do. His eyes +fell upon the two recently dug graves. Headboards stood at each of +them. Both were covered. Near the mounds lay a spade. The earth +clinging to it was moist. + +With his heart in his throat, Dave Robbins again looked at the grave +markers. 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 had +happened; just what, he did not know. It seemed the end. Could his +friend, the gallant Texan, have met death? It didn't seem possible, +and yet the evidence was before his eyes. Anger against Garvey and his +hired killers suddenly overcame him. A hot wave seemed to sweep over +him. He turned about and faced, not the distant San Simon, but in the +direction 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 joy +to 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! The +shock of it left the youth weak for a moment. The two wrung hands, and +Robbins blurted: + +"I thought yuh were dead! What happened? Why this covered grave?" + +"A half-breed lookout," the Texan explained in a whisper. "Ugly, but +slow with a gun. He had the drop, so instead of reachin' fo' mah +Colts, I pretended to raise mah hands. Then I gave him this--mah hole +cahd, the thirteenth ace." + +And Kid Wolf showed him the heavy bowie knife so carefully hidden in +its sheath sewn to the inside of his shirt collar. + +"With this through his throat, he fell right in the grave they'd dug +fo' me. Then I saw the shovel, and I couldn't resist throwin' some +dirt ovah him. Well, that's that. I hated to take his life, but I had +to 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 the +coyote yell--a mournful cry that seemed to echo and reëcho. The sound +was so perfect an imitation that Robbins could scarcely believe his +ears. And it even fooled the Indians. It did not, however, deceive +the sagacious horse that waited patiently in the adobe. The Kid +clutched his young companion's arm. Straining their eyes, they saw a +white something moving up an arroyo. + +"That Blizzahd hoss is smahter than I am," chuckled the Texan. "He +knows 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 his +hoofs 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 little +distance to the west of it. Ahead of them now was safety, if they +could make it. The Texan mounted and swung up Robbins behind the +saddle. + +"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 with +that? That express box was just a blind. Don't yo' know what I did +while the rest of yo' were tippin' back the stagecoach? No? Well, I +transferred the twenty thousand to Blizzahd's saddlebags, so the +money"--he tapped the bulges on each side of the big saddle--"is right +heah!" + +Kid Wolf, ever since he had taken charge of the express money, had +realized his responsibility and trust. He would protect it with his +life. If he could reach Mexican Tanks with it, the money would be +safe, for a small post of soldiers and government scouts guarded the +place. + +They had not gone a half mile, however, when a sound of distant +shouting 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 a +water hole west of them in the hills, and they decided to head for +that, as they were suffering from intense thirst. Blizzard, too, had +not taken water for thirty-six hours. + +The Apache is one of the best trailers in the world. They were under a +terrible handicap, and both realized it. With the great white horse, +strong as it was, carrying double, they could not hope to out-distance +pursuit. + +"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. Shortly +afterward, they reached the water hole. It was nearly dry, but enough +moisture remained to refresh both horse and riders. + +Then they went on again. Kid Wolf could, tell by Blizzard's actions +that they were being followed. Before long he himself saw signs. +Little dust clouds began to show behind them, scattered over a line +miles 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 them +swarmed with moving dots--dots that grew larger and more distinct with +every fleeting minute. Garvey had obtained reënforcements, without +doubt, for there seemed to be no end to the pursuing Apaches. + +Blizzard ran like the thoroughbred he was. But even his iron muscles +could not stand the strain for long. The ponies behind were fresh, and +the snow-white charger was tremendously handicapped with the added +weight which had been placed upon it. + +Puffs of white smoke blossomed out behind them. A bullet, spent and +far 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 was +prepared for what followed. It was not his first encounter with +renegade red men of the Southwest. He was also aware of what awaited +them if they were taken captive. Death with lead would be far more +merciful. + +The line of Apache warriors spread out even farther. Blizzard was +speeding over a flat table-land now, flanked by two ridges of iron-gray +hills. A file of Indians separated from the main body and raced along +the left-hand ridge. Another file of copper-brown, half-naked savages +drummed along to the right. + +Rifle fire crackled and flashed. Bullets now began to buzz and whine +like infuriated insects. Arrows, falling far short, whistled an angry +tune. 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. It +ran on courage alone. Its nostrils were expanded wide, its flanks and +neck foam-flecked. The steel muscles rippled under its snowy hide, +until it seemed to fly like a winged thing. But it is one thing to +carry a hundred and sixty pounds; another thing to bear nearly three +hundred. 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 the +Texan's hat. Another burned his side. Directly behind them, Garvey +and his gunmen--the two Arnolds, Henry Shank, and Stephenson--pounded +furiously, gaining at every jump. Their mounts were better than those +of 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 kill +until it was necessary. The Arnolds, however, were out of the chase +for good and all. Stephenson also felt the crippling sting of the +Texan's lead and toppled from his mount, drilled high in the shoulder. + +Henry Shank and Gil Garvey, shaken at The Kid's marksmanship, drew in +their horses, unwilling to press closer. That gave Blizzard his chance +to make the shelter of the arroyo. Suddenly it yawned at their feet--a +terrific jump. Would Blizzard take it? A reassuring pressure of a +knee was all the inspiration the horse needed. They seemed to rush +through the air. Then they were sliding down the bank in a cloud of +dust, Blizzard tense and stiff-legged. By a miracle, they reached the +bottom unhurt, and without losing a second, Kid Wolf headed his +faithful 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 light +with 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 of +Blizzard's stirrups in such a way that it could not jolt out. Then he +gave 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 with +all its speed down the arroyo. It was soon lost to sight among the +mesquites. + +"He'll stay out of sight and within call," explained the Texan. "We +may need him worse than we do now. Anyway, Garvey will have plenty +trouble gettin' that express money." + +They prepared to fight it out until the last, for already the Indians +were forcing their ponies down into the arroyo. A triumphant shout +went up--a shout that became an elated, bloodthirsty war cry. The +Apaches 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 and +leaves flying. Kid Wolf smiled coolly along the barrel of his +remaining 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 same +breath. It faltered, then came on, reënforced. There were too many of +them 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 wanting +to capture them. They came on, a coppery swarm, clubbing their guns. + +There was no time to reload! The two young white men found themselves +fighting hand to hand in desperate battle. Kid Wolf smashed two of the +Indians, sending them sprawling back into their companions with broken +heads. But still they came--dozens of them! + +Robbins was down, then up again. He felt hands seize him. Kid Wolf +felt the impact of a gun stock on his head. The world seemed to sway +crazily. Even while falling to the ground he still fought, his hard +fists landing on the faces and chests of the red warriors in smashing +blows. His feet were seized, then one arm. In vain he tried to tear +himself 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 half +dozen 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 was +happening to him. Half stunned, he was carried, along with Dave +Robbins, out of the arroyo. He was light-headed from the blows he had +received. + +That torture was in store for them, he well knew. He heard Gil +Garvey's voice calling for Yellow Skull. Red faces, smeared with war +paint, glared at him. He was being taken on a pony's back through a +thicket of brush. + +They were up on the mesa again, for he felt the sun burn out and a hot +wind sweep the desert. What were they waiting for? + +Yellow Skull! Kid Wolf had heard of that terrible, insane Apache +chief. He could expect about as much mercy from him as he could from +Garvey. + +Some one was shaking his shoulder. It was the Lost Springs bandit +leader. + +Kid Wolf looked about him. A score or more of warriors, naked save for +breechcloths, stood around in a hostile circle. Garvey was chuckling +and 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, lay +Dave 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 both +over to Yellow Skull! He's got somethin' in store for yuh that'll make +yuh 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 bandit +leader. + +"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 was +horrible, if ever a man was horrible. He was the chief of the renegade +Apache 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 over +his gaunt visage. Above his beaked nose, his beady black eyes +glittered wickedly, and his jagged fangs protruded through his animal +lips. He wore a breechcloth of dirty white, and his chest was naked, +save for two objects--objects terrible enough to send a thrill of +horror through the beholder. Suspended on a long cord around his neck +were two shriveled human hands. Above this was a necklace made of +dried human fingers. + +"Yellow Skull," said Garvey, pointing to Kid Wolf, "meet the man who +slew yore son, Bear Claw!" + +The expression of the chief's face became ghastly. His eyes widened +until they showed rings of white; his nostrils expanded. With a fierce +yell, 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. His +sunburned face paled a bit, but his eyes remained steady. He turned +his head to look at Robbins, who was recovering consciousness. + +"Keep up yo' nerve, son," he comforted. "I'm afraid this is goin' to +be pretty terrible." + +The bonds of the two white men were loosened, and they were pulled to +their 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 of +his neck. It would do him little good, however, to draw it, for he was +hemmed in by the Apaches. He might get two or three, but in the end he +would be beaten down. He was determined, at any rate, to go out +fighting. If he could only bring justice to Garvey before he died, he +would be content. Tensely he waited for the opportune time. + +One of the redskins carried a comb of honey. The Texan knew what that +meant. The most horrible torture that could have been devised by men +awaited them. + +The torture party paused in a clear space in the middle of a high +thicket of mesquite. Here in the sun-baked, packed sand were two ant +hills. + +Kid Wolf had heard of the method before. What Yellow Skull intended to +do was this: The two prisoners would be staked and tied so tightly +over the ant hills that neither could move a muscle. Then their mouths +would be propped open and honey smeared inside. The swarming colonies +of red ants would do the rest. + +For the first time, Dave Robbins seemed to realize what was in store +for 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 the +mesquite thicket, he had caught sight of something white and moving. +It was his horse! Blizzard had followed his master, and stood ready to +do his bidding. + +Already the grinning Apaches were coming forward with the stakes and +ropes. Not a second was to be lost. It was a forlorn hope, but Kid +Wolf knew that he could depend on Blizzard to do his best. Sharp and +clear, the Texan gave the coyote yell!" + +"_Yip-yip-ee!_" + +What happened took place so suddenly that the Apaches never realized +what it all was! Crash! Like a white, avenging ghost horse, the +superb Texas charger leaped out of the mesquite, muscles bunched. It +made the distance to its master's side in two flashing leaps, bowling +over 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 his +neck 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 their +revolvers. + +"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 his +rifle away from him. Clubbing it, he smashed two others as fast as +they dived in. + +Shank rushed, his gun winking spurts of fire. + +Kid Wolf could not spare his enemies now. His own life depended on his +flashing Colt. He lined the tip of his front sight and thumbed the +hammer. + +_Thr-r-r-rup!_ Shank gasped, as lead tore through him. He dropped +headfirst, arms outstretched. + +"Get on the hoss!" The Kid yelled at Robbins. Then he turned his gun +on Garvey. + +In his rage, the Lost Springs desperado fired too quickly. His aim was +bad, 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 the +hammer. The bullet found its mark. If Garvey had no heart, Kid Wolf's +bullet found the spot where it ought to be. With his glazing eyes, Gil +Garvey--wholesale murderer--saw justice at last. Dropping his gun, he +swayed 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 long +leather thong, to which was attached a round stone. A second more, and +Kid Wolf's skull would have been smashed! + +A burst of flame stopped him. The chief sagged, dropped. The Kid had +fired just as the stone was whirled aloft. The Indians, now that their +chief and white allies had fallen, retreated. The almost miraculous +appearance of the horse had dismayed them and filled them with +superstitious fear. A few more shots served to scatter them and send +them flying for cover. Kid Wolf vaulted into the saddle. Robbins was +already on Blizzard's back. + +"Heads low!" sang out the Texan. + +He headed the horse for the mesquites. Crashing through them, they +found themselves on the mesa plain once more. Kid Wolf urged Blizzard +to greater speed. Bullets buzzed around them, but it was evident that +the Apaches had lost heart. Blizzard pounded on, and the cries behind +soon grew fainter and fainter. Kid Wolf relaxed a little and grinned. + +"That's what I'd call a narrow squeak," he chuckled. "How far to +Mexican 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. Whether +the Indians feared to approach any nearer to the government post, or +whether they had given up through superstitious fear, would have been +hard 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 Mexican +Tanks, scattered out in a fertile, cottonwood-grown valley. With one +accord, they shook hands. + +"Now will yo' believe me," asked the Texan, "when I tell yo' that +Blizzahd'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 me +any good, Kid, to thank yuh." + +"Don't try," drawled The Kid. "I'm a soldier of misfohtune, and +excitement'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 good +luck!" + +"Yuh won't come along?" + +Kid Wolf shook his head and smiled. + +"I'm just a rollin' stone," he confessed, "and I just naturally roll +toward trouble. If yo' evah need me again, yo'll find me where the +lead flies thickest. As soon as I turn this express money ovah to the +authorities, 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 of +the Pecos and see what I can see. Quién sabe?" + +Blizzard cocked his ears and turned his head to look his master in the +eye. Blizzard savvied. He was "in the know." + + + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Kid Wolf of Texas, by Ward M. 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Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/22057-8.zip b/22057-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1e6c0b0 --- /dev/null +++ b/22057-8.zip diff --git a/22057.txt b/22057.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0cc58c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/22057.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8366 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Kid Wolf of Texas, by Ward M. Stevens + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Kid Wolf of Texas + A Western Story + +Author: Ward M. Stevens + +Release Date: August 26, 2008 [EBook #22057] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KID WOLF OF TEXAS *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + + [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 a +plaintive whistle, leaving the scene more lonely than ever. For a few +moments nothing was to be seen except the endless expanse of +wilderness, and nothing was to be heard save the mournful warble of the +singer. Then a horse and rider were suddenly framed where the sparse +timber opened out upon the plain. + +Together, man and mount made a striking picture; yet it would have been +hard to say which was the more picturesque--the rider or the horse. +The latter was a splendid beast, and its spotless hide of snowy white +glowed in the rays of the afternoon sun. With bit chains jingling, it +gracefully leaped a gully, landing with all the agility of a mountain +lion, in spite of its enormous size. + +The rider, still whistling his Texas tune, swung in the +concha-decorated California stock saddle as if he were a part of his +horse. He was a lithe young figure, dressed in fringed buckskin, +touched here and there with the gay colors of the Southwest and of +Mexico. + +Two six-guns, wooden-handled, were suspended from a cartridge belt of +carved leather, and hung low on each hip. His even teeth showed white +against 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 was +colored with just a trace of Spanish--a musical drawl seldom heard far +from 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 that +men have called the Llano Estacado. The land rose to it in a long +series of steppes with sharp ridges. + +Queerly shaped and oddly colored buttes ascended toward it in a +puzzling tangle. Dim in the distance was the Llano itself--a mesa with +a floor as even as a table; a treeless plain without even a weed or +shrub for a landmark; a plateau of peril without end. + +The rider was doing well to avoid the Llano Estacado. Outlaw Indian +bands roamed over its desolate expanse--the only human beings who could +live there. In the winter, snowstorms raced screaming across it, from +Texas to New Mexico, for half a thousand miles. It was a country of +extremes. In the summer it was a scorching griddle of heat dried out +by dry desert winds. Water was hard to find there, and food still +harder to obtain. And it was now late summer--the season of mocking +mirages and deadly sun. + +The horseman was just about to turn his steed's head directly to the +southward when a sound came to his ears--a cry that made his eyes widen +with horror. + +Few sounds are so thrillingly terrible as the dying scream of a mangled +horse, and yet this was far more awful. Only the throat of a human +being could emit that chilling cry. It rose in shrill crescendo, to +die 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 mortal +agony. + +Giving his mount a touch of spur, the horseman turned the animal +westward toward the Llano Estacado. So horrible were the sounds that +he had paled under his tan. But he headed directly toward the +direction of the cries. He knew that some human being was suffering +frightful 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 with +horror. + +Although accustomed to a hundred gruesome sights in that savage land, +he had never seen one like this. Staked on the ground, feet and arms +wide-stretched, and securely bound, was a man. Or rather, it was a +thing that had once been a man. It was a torture that even the +diabolical mind of an Indian could not have invented. It was the +insane 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. Flies +buzzed, and a raven flapped away, beating the air with its startled +wings. The horseman dismounted, took his water bag from his horse, and +approached the tortured man. + +The moaning man on the ground did not see him, for his eyes were +shriveled. He was blind. + +The youth with the water bag tried to speak, but at first words failed +to come. The sight was too ghastly. + +"Heah's watah," he muttered finally. "Just--just try and stand the +pain 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 a +generous portion of the contents over the shriveled eyes and +skeletonlike face. + +For a while the tortured man could not speak. But while his rescuer +slashed loose the rawhide ropes that bound him, he began to stammer a +few words: + +"Heaven bless yuh! I thought I was dead, or mad! Oh, how I wanted +water! 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 move +his limbs. Groans came from his lips. + +"Shoot me!" he cried. "Put a bullet through me! End this, if yuh've +got any pity for me! I'm blind--dying. I can't stand the pain. Yuh +must 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 was +startin' 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 know +yore name, pard, but----" + +"Call me 'Kid Wolf,'" answered the youth, "from Texas." His eyes had +narrowed at the mention of the name "The Terror." + +"Somethin' on my mind, Kid Wolf. It's that wagon train. The Terror +will wipe it out. Promise me yuh'll try and warn 'em." + +"I promise, old-timah," murmured the Texan. "Only yo' needn't to have +asked that. When yo' first mentioned it, I intended to do it. Where +is this wagon train, sah?" + +In gasps--for his strength was rapidly failing him--the prospector gave +what directions he could. Kid Wolf listened intently, his eyes +blazing-blue coals. + +"I'm passin' in my checks," sighed the sufferer weakly, when he had +given 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 of +misfohtune, goin' through life tryin' to do all I can fo' the weak and +oppressed. I'll risk mah life fo' these people, and heah's mah hand on +that!" + +The prospector groped for his hand, took it, and tried to smile. In a +few moments he had breathed his last, released from his pain. Kid Wolf +removed the bandanna from his own throat and placed it over the dead +man'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," he +sighed, addressing his white horse, "I find somethin' like this. Well, +seems like we hit out across the Llano, aftah all. Let's get a move +on, 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 good +spirits had returned. His voice rose tunefully and cheerily above the +steady drumming of Blizzard's hoofs. + +Surely the scene that lay before his eyes could not have aroused his +enthusiasm. It was lonely and desolate enough, with its endless sweeps +dim against each horizon. The sky, blue, hot and pitiless, came down +to meet the land on every hand, making a great circle unbroken by hill +or mountain. + +So clean-swept was the floor of the vast table-land that each mile +looked 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 the +Spanish padres, who had crossed this enormous plateau long before, had +named it the Llano Estacado--the Staked Plains. They had had a good +reason of their own. In order to keep the trail marked, they had been +compelled to drive stakes in the ground as they went along. Although +the stakes had gone long since, the name still stuck. + +The day before, the Texan had climbed the natural rock steps that led +upward and westward toward the terrible mesa itself, each flat-topped +table bringing him nearer the Staked Plains. And soon after reaching +the plateau he had found the trail left by a wagon train. + +From the ruts left in the soil, Kid Wolf estimated that the outfit must +consist of a large number of prairie schooners, at least twenty. The +Texan puzzled his mind over why this wagon train was taking such a +dangerous route. Where were they bound for? Surely for the Spanish +settlements of New Mexico--a perilous venture, at best. + +Even on the level plain, a wagon outfit moves slowly, and the Texan +gained rapidly. Hourly the signs he had been following grew fresher. +Late in the afternoon he made out a blot on the western horizon--a blot +with a hazy smudge above it. It was the wagon train. The smudge was +dust, dug up by the feet of many oxen. + +"They must be loco," Kid Wolf muttered, "to try and cut across The +Terror's territory." + +The Texan had heard much of The Terror. And what plainsman of that day +hadn't? He was the scourge of the table-lands, with his band of a +hundred cutthroats, desperadoes recruited from the worst scum of the +border. More than half of his hired killers, it was said, were Mexican +outlaws from Sonora and Chihuahua. Some were half-breed Indians, and a +few were white gunmen who killed for the very joy of killing. + +And The Terror himself? That was the mystery. Nobody knew his +identity. Some rumors held that he was a white man; others maintained +that he was a full-blooded Comanche Indian. Nobody had ever seen his +face, for he always was masked. His deeds were enough. No torture was +too cruel for his insane mind. No risk was too great, if he could +obtain loot. With his band behind him, no man was safe on the Staked +Plains. Many a smoldering pile of human bones testified to that. + +As the Texan approached the outfit, he could hear the sharp crack of +the bull whips and the hoarse shouts of the drivers. Twenty-two +wagons, and in single file! Against the blue of the horizon, they made +a pretty sight, with their white coverings. Kid Wolf, however, was not +concerned with the beauty of the picture. Great danger threatened +them, and it was his duty to be of what assistance he could. Touching +his 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 was +the beef herd, on which the outfit depended for food. Behind that was +the rear guard, armed with Winchesters. + +The Texan neared the horseman at the head of the train, raising his arm +in the peace signal. To his surprise, one of the scouts threw up his +rifle! There was a puff of white smoke, and a bullet whistled over Kid +Wolf'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 drew +up in front of them. The Texan found himself covered by half a dozen +Winchesters. + +"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 leader +of this outfit." + +One of the sextet separated himself from the others and came so close +to the Texan that their horses almost touched. + +"I'm in command!" he barked. "My name's Modoc. I'm in charge o' this +train, and takin' it to Sante Fe." + +The man, Modoc, was an impressive individual, bulky and stern. His +face was thinner than the rest of his body, and Kid Wolf was rather +puzzled to read the surly eyes that gleamed at him from under the bushy +black brows. He was more startled still, however, when Modoc whispered +in 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 face +took 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 the +wagon train being led to its doom by a madman? What did Modoc mean by +his low-voiced, mysterious query? Or did he mean anything at all? The +Texan put it down as the raving of a mind unbalanced by hardship and +peril. + +"I suppose yo'-all know," he drawled loudly enough for them all to +hear, "that yo're on the most dangerous paht of the Llano, and that +yo'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 he +got 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're +either a liar or a fool, Kid! And I'd advise yuh to mind yore own +business." + +"Call me 'Wolf,'" said the Texan, a ring of steel in his voice. "I'm +just 'The Kid' to friends. Others call me by mah last name. And +speakin' of the trail, that wasn't the Red Rivah yo' crossed. It was +the Wichita. And yo' must have gone ovah the Wichita Mountains, too." + +"The Wichita!" ejaculated one of the other men. "Why, Modoc, yuh told +us----" + +"And I told yuh right!" said the leader furiously. "I've been over +this route before, and I know just where we are." + +"Yo're in The Terror's territory," drawled The Kid softly. "And I've +heahd from a reliable source that he's planned to raid yo'." + +The others paled at the mention of The Terror. But Modoc raised his +voice 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 might +be a spy for The Terror himself--probably measurin' the strength of our +outfit!" + +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've +trusted yuh so far." + +Modoc grinned, showing a line of broken and tobacco-stained teeth. He +looked 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 bullet +through yuh. Savvy?" + +Kid Wolf decided to make one last appeal. If Modoc were insane, it +seemed terrible that these others should be led to their doom on that +account. Only the Texan could fully appreciate their peril. The wagon +train was loaded with valuable goods, for these men were traders. The +Terror would welcome such plunder, and it was his custom never to leave +a 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 save +yo', and now I'm ready to give mine, if necessary. Let me stay with +yo' and guide yo' to safety, fo' yo' own sakes! Mah two guns are at +yo' service, and if The Terror strikes, I'll help yo' fight." + +The advance guard heard him out. Unbelief was written on all their +faces. + +"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 hurt +him, not on his own account, but because these blindly trusting men +were being deceived. Modoc, whether purposely or not, had led them +astray. + +He was about to ride away when his eyes fell upon the foremost of the +wagons, which was now creaking up, pulled by its straining team. Kid +Wolf gave a start. Thrust out of the opening in the canvas was a +child'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 picturesque +stranger. + +"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 this +little boy would ever reach Santa Fe, or anywhere else. Tears came to +his 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 a +small, 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 the +wagon train, he circled back and drummed west at a furious clip. The +only 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 were +sure to meet with trouble. If he could bring back a company of +soldiers from that Mexican settlement, he might aid them in time. "If +they won't let me help 'em at this end," he murmured, "I'll have to +help 'em at the othah." + + +The town of Santa Fe--long rows of flat-topped adobes nestling under +the mountain--was at that day under Spanish rule. Only a few Americans +then lived within its limits. + +It was a thriving, though sleepy, town, as it was the gateway to all +Chihuahua. A well-beaten trail left it southward for El Paso, and its +main street was lined with cantinas--saloons where mescal and tequila +ran like water. There were gambling houses of ill repute, an open +court for cockfighting, and other pastimes. The few gringos who were +there looked, for the most part, like outlaws and fugitives from the +States. + +It lacked a few hours until sunset when Kid Wolf drummed into the town. +The mountains were already beginning to cast long shadows, and the +sounds of guitars and singing were heard in the gay streets. + +Galloping past the plazas, the Texan at once went to the presidio--the +palace of the governor. It was of adobe, like the rest of the +buildings, but the thick walls were ornately decorated with stone. It +was a fortress as well as a dwelling place, and it contained many +rooms. Several dozen rather ragged soldiers were loafing about the +presidio when Kid Wolf reached it, for a regiment was stationed in the +town. + +Kid Wolf sought an interview with the governor at once, but in spite of +his pleading, he was told to return in two hours. "The most honored +and respected Governor Manuel Quiroz," it seemed, was busy. If the +senor would return later, Governor Quiroz would be highly pleased to +see 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 foods +were being offered for trade or barter. Cooking was even being done in +open-air booths, and the air was heavy with seasoning and spice. Here +and there was a drinking place, crowded with revelers. It was +evidently some sort of feast day in Santa Fe. + +In front of one of the wine shops a little knot of men and soldiers had +gathered. All were flushed with drink and talking loudly in their own +tongue. One of them--a captain in a gaudy uniform--saw the Texan and +made a laughing remark to his companions. + +Kid Wolf's face flushed under its tan. His eyes snapped, but he +continued his walk. He had too much on his mind just then to resent +insults. + +But the captain had noticed his change of expression. The gringo, +then, knew Spanish. His remarks became louder, more offensive. More +than half intoxicated, he called jeeringly: + +"I was just saying, senor, that many men who wear two guns do not know +how to use even one. You understand, senor? Or perhaps the senor does +not know the Spanish?" + +Kid Wolf turned quietly. + +"The senor knows the Spanish," he said softly. + +The captain turned to his companions with a knowing wink. Then he +addressed the Texan. + +"Then, amigo, that is well," he mocked. "Perhaps the senor can shoot +also. Perhaps the senor could do this." + +A peon stood near by, and the captain pulled off the fellow's straw +sombrero and tossed it into the street. The wind caught it and the hat +sailed for some distance. With a quick movement the Spanish captain +drew 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 stroked +his thin black mustache and smiled proudly. + +"Perhaps the senor might find that difficult to do," he mocked. + +"Quien sabe?" Kid Wolf shrugged and started to pass on. He did not +care to make a public exhibition of his shooting, especially when he +had graver matters on his mind. But the jeers and taunts that broke +loose from the half-drunken assembly were more than any man could +endure, especially a Texan with fiery Southern blood in his veins. He +turned, smiling. His eyes, however, were as cold as ice. + +"Why," he asked calmly, "should I mutilate this po' man's hat?" His +words were spoken in perfectly accented Spanish. + +"The hat? Ah," mocked the captain, "if the senor hits it, I will pay +for 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 like +thunder--six shots, blended into one stuttering explosion. He had +emptied his gun in a breath! + +A gust of wind blew away the cloud of black powder smoke, and the crowd +stared. 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 senor took," he guffawed, "and missed with them all! +Ah, didn't I tell you that the Americans are bluffers, like their game +of 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 to +examine the target. When they had done so, they cried out in +amazement. It was true that just one bullet hole showed in the front +of the sombrero. The captain's shot had drilled that one. Naturally +all 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 bullet +mark! 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 its +approval and enthusiasm. Never had such shooting been seen within the +old city of Santa Fe. + +The Spanish captain, after his first gasp of surprise, had nothing to +say. Chagrin and disgust were written over his face. If ever a man +was crestfallen, the captain was. He hated to be made a fool of, and +this 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 Kid +Wolf 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 flame +leaped from the region of his hip. Along with the crashing roar of the +explosion came a sharp, metallic twang. + +The bullet had neatly clipped away the captain's belt buckle! A yell +of laughter rang out on all sides. For the captain's trousers, +suddenly unsupported, slipped down nearly to his knees. With a cry of +dismay, the disgruntled officer seized them frantically and held them +up. + +"Reach down in those," drawled the Texan, "and see if yo' can't find +that piece of gold!" + +The officer, white with rage in which hearty fear was mingled, obeyed +with alacrity, pulling out a gold coin and handing it, with an oath, to +the 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 sweeping +bow, 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 rode +at once to the governor's palace. + +Although it did not occur to him that Quiroz would reject his plea for +aid, he was filled with foreboding. He had a premonition that made him +uneasy, although there seemed nothing at which to be alarmed. + +Dismounting, he walked up the stone flags toward the presidio +entrance--a huge, grated door guarded by two flashily dressed but +barefooted soldiers. They nodded for him to pass, and the Texan found +himself in a long, half-lighted passage. Another guard directed him +into the office of Governor Quiroz, and Kid Wolf stepped through +another carved door, hat in hand. + +He found that he had entered a large, cool room, lighted softly by +windows of brightly colored glass and barred with wrought iron. The +tiles of the floor were in black-and-white design, and the place was +bare of furniture, except at one end, where a large desk stood. + +Behind it, in a chair of rich mahogany, sat an impressive figure. It +was the governor. + +While bowing politely, the Texan searched the pale face of the man of +whom he had heard so much. By looking at him, he thought he discovered +why Quiroz was so feared by the oppressed people of the district. Iron +strength showed itself in the official's aristocratic features. + +There was something there besides power. Quiroz had eyes that were +mysterious and deep. Not even the Texan could read the secrets they +masked. Cruelty might lurk there, perhaps, or friendliness--who could +say? At the governor's soft-spoken invitation, Kid Wolf took a chair +near the huge desk. + +"Your business with me, senor?" asked the official in smoothly spoken +English. + +Kid Wolf spoke respectfully, although he did not fawn over the +dignitary or lose his own quiet self-assertion. He was an American. +He told of finding the tortured prospector and of the plight of the +approaching wagon train. + +"If they continue on the course they are followin', guv'nor," he +concluded, "they'll nevah reach Santa Fe. And I have every reason to +believe 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 to +them with a company of yo' soldiers." + +"My dear senor," the governor said with suave courtesy, "the people you +wish 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 women +and children in the wagon train." + +Quiroz rubbed his chin as if in thought. His eyes, however, seemed to +smolder 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, senor?" + +"Kid Wolf, from Texas, sah." + +Spanish governors of that day had no reason to like gunmen from the +Lone Star State. From the time of Santa Anna, Texas fighters had been +thorns in their sides. But if Quiroz was thinking of this, he made no +sign. He smiled with pleasure, either real or assumed. + +"That is good," he said. "Senor Wolf, to show your good faith, will +you be kind enough to lay your weapons on my desk? It is a custom here +not to come armed in the presence of the governor." + +Suspicion began to burn strongly in the back of the Texan's brain. Was +Quiroz playing a crafty game? He was supposed to be friendly toward +those from the States, but once before, in California, Kid Wolf had had +dealings 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 of +misfohtune. Anyway, I try and do good. What good I have done fo' the +weak and oppressed, sah, I've done with these." The Kid tapped his +twin Colts and went on: "I've twelve lead aces heah, sah, and I'm not +in the habit of layin' 'em down." + +"We're not playing cards, senor." Quiroz smiled pleasantly. + +"No." Kid Wolf's quick smile flashed. "But if a game is stahted, I +want a hand to play with." + +His eyes were fixed on the carved front of the governor's desk. There +seemed something strange about the carved design. He was seated +directly 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 had +attracted his attention. + +The desk was carved with a series of squares chiseled deep into the +dark wood. In one of the squares was a black circle about the size of +a 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 to +take chances. Slowly, and with his eyes still on the official's +smiling face, he edged his chair away from it, an inch at a time. His +progress was slow enough not to attract Quiroz's attention. + +"Then," asked the governor slowly, "you refuse, senor?" + +"Yo'-all are a fine guessah, sah!" snapped the Texan, alert as a steel +spring. + +The governor moved his knee. There was a sharp report, and a streak of +flame 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 trap +gun. + +Quiroz's death-dealing apparatus had failed. The Texan's cleverness +had matched his own. Concealed in the desk had been a pistol, the +trigger of which had been pressed by the weight of the official's knee +on a secret panel. Quick as a flash, Kid Wolf was on his feet, hands +flashing down toward his two .45s! + +The governor, however, was not in the habit of playing a lone hand +against any antagonist. Behind Kid Wolf rang out a command in curt +Spanish: + +"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 of +Santa Fe with him to death, perhaps cutting down some of the men behind +him, 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 little +golden-haired child crossed his mind. No, while there was life, there +was hope. Slowly he took his hands away from his gun handles and +raised 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 audience +with the governor. Quiroz snarled an order to them. + +"Take away his guns!" he cried. Then, while the Texan was being +disarmed, he took a long black cigarette from a drawer and lighted it +with trembling fingers. + +"You are clever, senor," said the governor, recovering his composure. +"I am exceedingly sorry, but I will have to deal with you in a way you +will not like--the adobe wall." Quiroz bowed. "I bid you adios." He +turned to his soldiers. "Take him to the _calabozo_!" he ordered +sharply. + + +The building that was then being used as Santa Fe's prison was +constructed of adobe with tremendously thick walls and no windows. The +only place light and air could enter the sinister building was through +a 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 the +door was being opened, he glanced around him, taking what might prove +to be his last look at the sky. His eyes fell upon one of the walls of +the jail. It was pitted with hundreds of little holes. The Texan +smiled grimly. He knew what had made them--bullets. It was the +execution place! + +The door clanged behind him, and a scene met The Kid's eyes that caused +him 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 and +deliverance. A guttering candle shed a ghastly light over their thin +bodies. + +So this was what his audience with the governor had come to! What a +tyrant Quiroz had proved to be! Strangely enough, The Kid's thoughts +were not of his own terrible plight, but of the peril that awaited the +wagon train. If he could only escape this place, he might at least +help 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, that +Blizzard was free. Nobody could touch him save his master. He was +also sure that the faithful animal awaited his beck and call. The +white horse was somewhere near and on the alert. Kid Wolf had trained +it well. + +He soon saw that escape by ordinary means from the prison was quite +hopeless. There was no guard to overpower, the walls were exceedingly +thick, and the door impregnable. + +Only one of the prisoners, Kid Wolf noted, was an American--a sickly +faced youth of about the Texan's own age. A few questions brought out +the information that all the inmates of the jail were under sentence of +death. + +The hours passed slowly in silent procession while the dying candle +burned low in the poison-laden air. Kid Wolf paced the floor, his eyes +cool and serene. + +His mind, however, was wide awake. When was he to be shot? In the +morning? Or would his execution be delayed, perhaps for days? + +The Texan never gave up hope, and he was doing more than hoping now--he +was planning carefully. Kid Wolf had a hole card. Had the Spanish +soldiers known him better, they would have used more care in disarming +him. But then, enemies of Kid Wolf had made that mistake before, to +their sorrow. + +Clearly enough, he could not help the wagon train where he was. He +must get out. But the only way to get out, it seemed, was to go out +with the firing squad--a rather unpleasant thing to do, to say the +least. + +The tiny grated square in the jail door began to lighten. It grew +brighter. 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, "but +we 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 in +Spanish, "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 beans +meant 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, "and +one black one. We all draw. The man who gets the black bean dies this +morning." + +The hair prickled on the Texan's head. Every morning these +unfortunates were compelled to play a grim game with death. + +The prisoners were all quaking with terror, as they came up to the ugly +red jug to take their chance for life. As much as these miserable men +suffered in this terrible place, existence was still dear to them. + +One soldier shook the beans in the olla; the other stood back against +the wall with leveled gun to prevent any outbreak. Then the lottery +began. + +Kid Wolf viewed the situation calmly, and decided that to try to wrest +the weapon from the soldier would be folly. Other soldiers were +watching through the grated door. + +One by one, the prisoners drew. The opening in the olla was just large +enough for a hand to be admitted. All was blind chance, and no one +could see what he had drawn until his bean was out of the jug. Some of +the peons screamed with joy after drawing their white beans. The black +one was still in the jar. + +The two white men were the last to draw. Both took their beans and +stepped to one side to look at them. It was an even break. Kid Wolf +was smiling; the other was trembling. + +The eyes of Kid Wolf met the fear-stricken eyes of the other. They +stood close together. Each had looked at his bean. The sick man's +face 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 were +cautiously exchanged. Then Kid Wolf turned to the soldiers and +displayed a black bean. + +"Guess I'm the unlucky one." He smiled whimsically. He turned to the +sick boy for a final handshake. "Good luck," he whispered, "and if my +plans fail, adios forever." + +"Come!" ordered a Spanish soldier. + +Waving his hand in farewell, Kid Wolf stepped out to meet the doom that +had been prepared for him. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +SURPRISES + +At the prison door, Kid Wolf was met by a squad of ten soldiers. It +was the firing squad. The Texan fell in step with them and was marched +around the building to the bullet-scarred wall. Kid Wolf faced the +rising sun. Was he now seeing it for the last time? + +If he was afraid, he made no sign. His expression was unruffled and +calm. He was smiling a little, and his arms, as he folded them on his +breast, did not tremble in the slightest. + +The officer who was to have charge of the execution had not yet +appeared on the scene, and the soldiers waited with their rifle stocks +trailing in the sand. + +Then there was a quick bustle. The officer sauntered around the corner +of the building, his bright uniform making a gay sight in the early +sun. He was a captain--the captain whom Kid Wolf had humiliated the +afternoon before! The eyes of the Spanish officer, when they fell upon +his victim, widened with surprise which at once gave way to exultation. + +"Ah, it is my amigo--the senor of the two guns!" he cried. + +It was his day of revenge! The captain could not conceal his joy at +this chance to square things with his enemy for good and all. He did +not try to. His laugh was sneering and amused. + +"And to think it will be me--Captain Hermosillo--who will say the word +to fire!" He turned to his soldiers in high good humor and waved his +sword. "At twenty paces," he ordered. "We shall soon see how bravely +the senor dies. Ready!" + +The rifle mechanisms clattered sharply. + +Then the captain turned to his victim, an insolent smile on his cruel +features. "Will the senor 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 is +brave, yes!" he mocked. "He cannot endure seeing the _carabinas_ aimed +at his heart. He wants his eyes bandaged--the _muchos grande +Americano_! Ah, the coward!" He spat contemptuously on the sand. "He +does not know how to face the guns. Well, we will humor him!" + +The captain whipped a silk handkerchief from his pocket and stepped +forward. Kid Wolf's eyes were gleaming with icy-blue lights. This was +the moment he had been waiting for! That handkerchief was a necessary +cog in his carefully laid plans. Captain Hermosillo was soon to learn +just how cowardly this young Texan was. And the surprise was not going +to be pleasant. + +Kid Wolf's hole card was a big bowie knife--the same weapon that had +played such havoc at the Alamo. He carried it in a strange hiding +place--tucked into a leather sheath sewn to the inside of his shirt +collar, between his shoulder blades. That knife had rescued Kid Wolf +from many a tight situation, and he had practiced until he could draw +it with all the speed of heat lightning. + +When the captain placed the handkerchief over his eyes, Kid Wolf +reached back, as if pretending to assist him. Like a flash, his +fingers closed over the bone handle of the knife instead. Hermosillo +found himself with the cold point of the gleaming bowie pressed against +his throat! + +At the same time, Kid Wolf whirled his body about so that the officer +was between him and the firing squad. His left hand held the captain +in a grip of steel; his right held the glittering blade against +Hermosillo's Adam's apple! + +"Throw down yo' rifles and back away from 'em!" Kid Wolfe called to the +soldiers. "Pronto! Or I'll kill yo' captain!" + +Hermosillo gave an agonized yell of fear. In a voice of quaking +terror, he ordered his men to do what Kid Wolf had commanded them. His +breath was coming in wheezing gasps. + +The firing squad, taken aback by this sudden development--for only a +few seconds had passed since The Kid had drawn the knife--hesitated, +and then obeyed. At best, they were none too quick-thinking, and they +saw 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 good +hitting range. Then he lashed out at him with his hard fist, catching +the fear-crazed officer directly on the point of the jaw. Many pounds +of lean muscle were behind the blow, and Hermosillo landed ten feet +away in a cloud of dust. + +The Texan lost no time in whirling on his feet and sprinting for the +corner of the building. He reached it just in time to bump into +another officer, who was just then arriving on the scene. Kid Wolf +snatched the pistol from his belt and sent him up against the wall with +a jar. Before the disarmed Spaniard knew what had happened, he was +sitting on the ground, nursing a bruised jaw, and Kid Wolf was gone! + +The Texan found the streets deserted at that early hour. Racing across +the 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 running +down another street like a white snowstorm. + +Kid Wolf ran to meet the horse. A sharp rattle of rifle fire rang out +behind him. The soldiers had given chase! A bullet zipped the stone +flags under his feet; another smacked solidly into the corner of an +adobe house. + +The alarm had been given. Two gayly uniformed officers ran into the +street from the direction of the presidio. They were trying to head +the Texan off, attempting to get between him and his horse. + +But Blizzard was coming at too hot a pace. The two Spaniards cut in +just as Kid Wolf leaped to the saddle. He fired the pistol's single +barrel at one of the officers, and hurled the useless weapon into the +other's face. + +"Come on, Blizzahd!" Kid Wolf sang out. "Let's go from heah!" + +The powerful animal's hoofs thundered against the flagstones, leaped a +stone wall, and charged down the street. Behind them, already +organized, came the pursuit. To Kid Wolf's ears came the whine of +bullets. + +"From now on," he cried to his plunging horse, "it all depends on +yo'-all! Burn that wind!" + +Once Blizzard had hit his stride, Kid Wolf knew that no horse in Santa +Fe could catch him. Striking off to the eastward in the direction of +the Staked Plains, the Texan gave his animal free rein. + +The pursuit was dropping behind, a few yards at a time. Instead of +buzzing around his ears now, the bullets were falling short, kicking up +spurts of dust. The cries in angry Spanish grew fainter until they +died into a confused hubbub. Kid Wolf had left the town behind him and +was racing out over the level plain. Looking back, he could see a +score or more of brown clouds--dirt stirred by the horsemen who were +now almost lost from view. These dwindled. In an hour only half a +dozen riders remained on his trail. Blizzard was still going strong. + +Out on the great Llano Estacado, The Kid managed, by superior +horsemanship, to give the balance of his pursuers the slip. When he +had succeeded in confusing them, he slowed his faithful mount down for +a needed rest. And now where was the wagon train? Where was he to +find it? A chill raced down his spine. Had The Terror already struck? +The thought of the women and children in the hapless outfit filled him +with a feeling akin to panic. He must find the wagon train. It might +not yet be too late. + +Kid Wolf was a plainsman. He could locate water where none appeared to +exist; he could discover game when older men failed; and he could +follow a course on the limitless prairie as surely as a sailor could +navigate 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 left +it. In this way he fixed a point in his mind--an imaginary dot that he +must reach if he meant to find the prairie schooners. If Modoc--the +leader of the outfit--had kept to his original course, The Kid could +not fail to meet them. + +Accordingly, Kid Wolf traveled all the rest of that day in a straight +line, marking his course by the sun. He stopped only once at noon for +water and a short rest, going on again until dusk. + +At nightfall, he made camp and lay awake, looking at the stars +overhead. 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 just +obstinacy? If the latter, what had he meant by his strange expression: +"What color will the moon be to-night?" Kid Wolf thought for a long +time and then gave it up. + +He did not fear any further pursuit by the Spanish soldiers. The trail +he had left behind was too puzzling; he had taken care of that. +Besides, he knew that the average Spaniard feared the Apache and the +other Indian tribes that infested portions of the Staked Plains. If +there 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 in +the saddle again. The day promised to be hot. The midsummer sun had +burned the grass to a crisp brown. By midday, mirages began to show in +hollows. Heat flickered. Both horse and rider drank at a pool of +yellow-brown water and pressed on. + +Late in the afternoon, Kid Wolf made out a faint white line on the far +horizon. It was the wagon train! He sighed with relief. The Terror, +then, had not yet raided it. For The Terror left only destruction in +his wake. Had he already plundered it, he would have burned the wagons +to the ground. + +Increasing his speed, Kid Wolf rapidly approached it. As he came +nearer, he saw that the outfit was in the center of a field of alkali +and 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 recognized +him at once. Modoc started to raise his rifle. One of the others +struck the weapon down. Obviously the train commander had lost some of +his influence. Another of the pathfinders shouted for Kid Wolf to come +on. A dozen of the travelers left their wagons and came forward. This +time they seemed glad to see Kid Wolf. + +"Yuh was right, after all!" one of them cried. "Modoc led us out of +the way. We're lost!" + +"I meant all right," Modoc grumbled. "I did my best--must have made a +mistake somewhere. I'll find the trail, never worry. And if yuh take +my advice, yuh'll drive this four-flusher away from here! He don't +mean 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 we +believe he's our friend." He turned to the Texan. "Yuh can consider +yoreself in command here now," he added. + +Modoc trembled with ungovernable anger, but, outnumbered as he was, he +could say nothing. Sulkily he returned to his own wagon. + +From the drivers, Kid Wolf learned a story of hardship and semi +starvation. Indians had driven away their beef herd, leaving them +without food. All day they had had nothing to eat, and were at the +point of killing and devouring prairie dogs. The water, too, was +bad--so full of alkali as nearly to be undrinkable, and as bitter as +gall. + +Kid Wolf lost no time in taking the situation in hand. His own +provisions he turned over to the women and children of the outfit. +Then he changed the course of the train so that it led toward +civilization. At nightfall they made camp by a pool of fair drinking +water. The outfit told him that as yet they had seen no sign of The +Terror. + +"Probably we won't," said one. + +Kid Wolf was not so optimistic. That night he borrowed two .45 Colt +revolvers from the wagon-train supplies. He selected them with extreme +care, testing them by shooting at marks. So accurate was his shooting +that the men of the outfit could not conceal their admiration. The +first weapon he tried threw the shots an inch or two to one side, but +he finally obtained a pair that worked perfectly. Then he sanded the +wooden 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's +suggestion. On that wide plain a light showed for many miles, and it +was 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 the +wagon train, he suddenly stopped in his tracks and sniffed. There was +no mistaking the delicious odor. It made Kid Wolf hungry. It was +frying meat. The Texan quietly aroused some of the men and led them to +one 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-train +commander had a shielded lantern burning inside, and he was in the act +of eating a big supper! When he saw that he had visitors, he tried to +reach the gun belt he had hung up at one end of the wagon. Kid Wolf +was 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 wondered +why 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 of +dried beef and other provisions. It was Modoc's little private supply. + +"We'll divide it up with everybody in the mohnin'," suggested the +Texan, "with a double allowance fo' the children and the women." + +The wagon men were so furious at Modoc's selfishness that they could +have torn him to pieces. Kid Wolf, however, prevented the trouble that +was brewing. + +"Every one to their blankets, men," he said. "We can't affohd to fight +among ouahselves just now." + +When the camp was asleep again, he took up his lonely vigil. The night +was pitch black, without moon or stars. A wind whispered softly across +the great Llano. + +Suddenly The Kid's attention was attracted by something on the western +horizon. It seemed to be in the sky--a faint red glow, across which +shadows appeared to move like phantoms. Like a picture from the ghost +world, it flickered for a few minutes like heat lightning, then +disappeared, leaving the night as dark as before. It was a night +mirage, and something more than an optical illusion. It was a rare +thing on the plain. The Kid knew that it meant something. That glow +was 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 while +I'm gone. I'm on a little scoutin' pahty of mah own. It might be that +Quiroz 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 his +horse just a touch of the spur--that was always enough for +Blizzard--and they proceeded to split the wind. The horse was as +sure-footed as a cat, and was not an animal to step into a prairie-dog +hole, even on a black night. Blizzard had ample rest and water, and +was never fresher. He ran like a greyhound. + +Kid Wolf never forgot that gallop across the Llano by night. It was +like running full tilt against an ever-opening velvet curtain. He +could hardly see his horse's head. + +Blizzard's hoofs pounded on and on across the level plateau. Miles +disappeared under his flying feet, while Kid's keen eyes were fastened +on the horizon ahead. Finally he made out an orange glow--a light that +changed 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 no +sound. Not once did his high-heeled boots snap a weed or rustle the +dried grass. He would not have been more silent had he been wearing +moccasins. + +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 restless +horses, and the men were thick around the fire. A conference of some +kind was being held. + +The Texan approached closer and closer, all eyes and ears. If he could +discover the identity of this band and something of their plans---- + +Suddenly a sentry rose up from the grass not a yard from him. His eyes +fell upon the intruder, and his mouth flew open. In his hand was a +short-barreled carbine. + +The Texan seized him, dodged under the half-raised weapon and cut off +the man's cry with the pressure of a muscular hand. He fought +noiselessly, and the sentry--a Mexican--was no match for him. Throwing +him to the ground, Kid Wolf gagged him with the man's own gayly colored +scarf. Then he bound him securely, using the sentry's sash and carbine +strap. + +Kid Wolf exchanged his hat for the Mexican's steep-crowned sombrero and +picked up the carbine. In this guise he could approach the camp with +comparative safety. Pulling the sombrero over his eyes, he came in +closer to the camp fire. As he did so, a trio of men--two white men +and one half-breed--came into the camp from another direction. The Kid +heard 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 had +asked 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 and +approached the ring around the fire. + +There was no doubt now that he was in the camp of The Terror! The men +outlined in the ruddy fire-light were desperadoes. Never had the Texan +seen such a gathering. Some were American gunmen, evil-faced and +heavily armed. Others were Mexicans and Indians. There was a +tenseness 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 the +glowing fire. + +The man was talking and seemed to be in authority. He was dressed in a +red Mexican coat, rich silver-trimmed pantaloons, and carried a brace +of gold-mounted pistols. His face was covered with a mask of black +velvet. Instinctively Kid Wolf knew that he was looking at the dread +scourge of the Llano Estacado--The Terror of the Staked Plains! The +bandit, then, kept himself masked even in front of his own men! Kid +Wolf, as he listened, grew tense. His eyes were shining with snapping +blue fire. The Terror was planning a raid upon the wagon train! His +voice, cold and deadly, came to Kid Wolf's ears: + +"Everything, then, caballeros, is arranged. We strike at dawn and wipe +them out, sparing nobody. If a man escapes, you are all running a +risk, for some of you might be identified. Man, woman, and child, they +must die! Our man, of course, you all know. Do not fire on him." + +Kid Wolf listened to that sinister voice and wondered what the face +behind the mask looked like. The bandit leader had no more soul than a +rattler, and one might expect more mercy from a wolf. And Kid Wolf +already knew whom The Terror meant when he spoke of "our man." Anger +shook the Texan from head to foot. He had learned enough. The bandits +were already about to mount their horses in order that they might reach +the wagon train at daybreak. There was no time to lose. He must get +back to the helpless outfit ahead of them. + +Sauntering carelessly, he slipped out of the circle about the fire and +made his way out of the camp without being noticed. Once out of the +range of the firelight, he raced into the darkness for his horse. + +Blizzard was waiting patiently. He had not moved from his tracks. An +ordinary animal might have nickered upon scenting other horses, but +Blizzard had been trained otherwise. Kid Wolf leaped into the saddle, +slapped his mount gently on the neck, and was swallowed up in the night +as Blizzard answered the summons. + + +The east was a pale line against the dark of the prairie night when +Blizzard drummed up to the sleeping wagon train with his rider. It +still lacked a half hour until the dawn. + +The Texan sent the sentries to arouse every available fighting man in +the 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 their +hands. It was just light enough now to see. Modoc ran out of his +wagon, strapping on his Colt .45 as he came. He advanced toward the +Texan 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 a +wolf. "Has this four-flusher been up to his tricks again?" + +Kid Wolf's voice came cool and calm. "Modoc," he drawled, "what color +will the moon be to-night?" + +Modoc's face went the color of putty. Like a flash, the insolence had +gone out of his eyes, to be replaced with fear. He moistened his lips +feverishly. + +"I--I don't know what yo're talkin' about," he stammered. + +"Are yo' sure," said Kid Wolf with deadly quietness, "that the moon +won't be red?" + +Modoc began to tremble like a leaf. His gun hand moved part way to his +hip, then stopped. Beads of perspiration stood out on his clammy +forehead. + +"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 like +rats." + +Modoc's face was blue-white as Kid Wolf continued: + +"When I first showed up, Modoc thought I might be one of The Terror's +messengahs. I didn't come through with the password, and he learned +different. I didn't know what he meant, then, but I know now!" + +The wagon men surged around Modoc threateningly. Fury was written over +the faces of them all. There were cries of "Kill him!" "Hang the +traitor!" + +Kid Wolf still faced the fear-frozen Modoc, smiling coolly. There was +quiet menace in that easy smile. + +"I usually shoot the head off a rattlesnake when I see one," he said +softly. "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 gentleman +alongside 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 hand +streaked for his hip. But Kid Wolf had drawn a split second later and +more than a split second faster. The fingers of his right hand closed +upon the handle of one of his twin Colts. In the same instant, fire +flew! + +With the first explosion, Modoc grunted with pain, dropping his gun. +The bullet had caught him squarely in the wrist, rendering his fingers +useless. But Kid Wolf kept firing, although he did not aim for Modoc's +head or body. His gun flashed and stuttered twice, three times, +four--five--six! Dust flew from Modoc's coat sleeve as the bullets +landed with a series of terrific smashes. As he had torn the +rattlesnake bit by bit, Kid Wolf ripped Modoc's gun arm. + +Each bullet took effect, and Modoc staggered from the impacts, knees +slumping to the ground. The traitor would never use that gun arm +again. It dangled from his body, broken and useless. The others would +have literally torn Modoc limb from limb had not the Texan ordered +otherwise. + +"He doesn't deserve hangin'," he said, "so let him be. We've got work +to do. The Terror and his gang will be here at any minute. Now listen +carefully to what I say." + +Quietly he gave his orders, and just as carefully, the wagon men +carried them out. Under Kid Wolf's masterly leadership they had +regained their nerve. Panic left them, and they became grim and +determined. + +The Kid learned that there were thirty-four men in the outfit. +Thirty-four against at least a hundred! The odds were great, but the +Texan had faced greater ones alone. With the train in the hands of +Modoc--one of their own men--the marauders expected to take the outfit +by surprise. Thanks to the Texan, all that was changed now. He gave +orders that the wagons be shifted into a circle, with the children and +women on the inside behind shelter. The men were posted in the wagons +and behind them, Kid Wolf giving each man his station. + +"Do not fiah until I give the coyote yell," he said. "And then keep +yo' sights down. Shoot low!" + +Kid Wolf himself took a position between two of the covered wagons, his +horse Blizzard within quick call. In the narrow chink, just wide +enough 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 the +wagons had been shifted when Kid Wolf saw a body of horsemen +approaching from the west. It was The Terror's band! Dust stirred by +the hoofs of a hundred galloping horses rose in the air like brown +thunderclouds. + +As the grim defenders watched, the band split up, divided into two +rapidly moving lines, and began to surround the train in a sweeping +circle. The circle formed, began to close in. Kid Wolf peered along +the barrel of one of the Sharps rifles. Then, after what seemed +minutes, he uttered his coyote cry: + +"Yip, yip, yip-ee!" + +It was followed by a terrific burst of fire from the wagon train. The +signal had been given at the opportune time. The bandits faltered. +They hadn't expected this! The Terror had hoped to find the wagon +train still asleep and defenseless. The rolling powder smoke cleared +away somewhat, and it could be seen that a dozen or more of the +attackers had melted out of their saddles, like butter on a hot stove. + +But the raiders, outnumbering the defenders and realizing it, still +came on. Kid Wolf threw aside the rifle and drew his twin .45s. +Deliberately stepping out into the open, he fanned the hammers from the +level of his hip. His waistline, as he swung the thundering Colts from +side to side, seemed to be alive with sputtering red sparks. Smoke +rolled around him. The bandits in front of him dropped by twos and +threes. + +Holes appeared in this side of the bandits' circle--holes that did not +close up. Riderless mounts dashed about frantically, their reins +trailing; 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, Kid +Wolf ran across to reenforce the other sides of the circle. At one +point the outlaws had already broken through the circle of wagons. Kid +Wolf sent three screaming slugs toward them, and they fell back in +disorder, leaving one desperado stretched out behind them. + +Reloading his guns, Kid Wolf climbed upon one of the wagons and again +opened fire; this time with such an effect that all sides of the +attacking circle began to break and fall back to safety. Mere force of +numbers does not always count in a gun fight. Not more than half a +dozen of the defenders had been hit. The survivors raised a hearty +cheer. Kid Wolf's generalship had beaten back the first outlaw charge! + +It was then that Modoc played his final card. Hoping to gain the +protection of the outlaws, and fearing the wagon train's vengeance, he +slipped out of the circle of covered wagons and, on foot, began +running. His goal was ahead of him, but he never reached it. His late +comrades--the bandits--evidently thought he had played the traitor with +them, for they fired on him relentlessly. He fell, then rose again to +scramble on. Bullets kicked up the sod around him. Others plumped +into his body. Again he fell, this time to stay. His body was riddled +with 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 a +counter-charge. He knew that it might break down the courage of the +bandit band. At least it would be a surprise. He called for +volunteers. + +"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 for +their 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 the +covered-wagon tops, smashed into wheels and wagon trees, and kicked up +geysers of sand. They would be hard to stop this time! + +But Kid Wolf gave the word for his own charge. He had several reasons +for doing this. It amounted to folly in the eyes of some, but the +Texan knew the value of a countercharge. And if he could bring down +The Terror himself, he knew the battle was as good as won. Out of the +wagon circle they came, saddle leather creaking and guns blazing! The +Kid, on his snow-white charger, was in the lead. A lane opened in the +bandit ranks as if by magic. + +Kid Wolf pressed his quick advantage. His movement had taken the +outlaw band by surprise. The utter recklessness of it shook their +nerve. + +Two of the wagon men fell. The others kept on, clearing a swathe with +their sputtering Colts. + +The bandits hesitated. The defenders who had remained behind the +wagons kept up their deadly barrage. They were dropping accurately +placed shots where they would be sure to do the most good. Then The +Terror's band retreated, broke formation. The retreat became a rout--a +mad get-away with every man for himself. Outnumbered as they were, the +defenders were making more than a good account of themselves. + +Kid Wolf's eyes sought for The Terror himself--and found him. His red +coat 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, wildly +attempting to get the drop on Kid Wolf as he came in. One of his +gold-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 a +fight to the end. He fired his other weapon almost in the Texan's +face. The Kid, however, had pulled the trigger of his own gun just a +fraction of a second before. The Terror's aim was spoiled just enough +so that the bullet whined wide. The bandit chief collapsed in his +saddle. He had been hit in the shoulder. + +The Texan closed in. There was a violent shock as Blizzard thudded +into the bandit's horse. The Terror, eyes glittering wickedly through +the openings in his velvet mask, slid from his horse, landing feet +first. With a glittering knife in his unwounded hand, he made a spring +toward Kid Wolf. The blade would have buried itself in the Texan's +thigh 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 use +his 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 of +any weapons. With a snarl, the bandit chief leaped forward, knife +swishing aloft. Never had Kid Wolf struck so hard a blow as he struck +then! Added to the power of his own tremendous strength and leverage +was The Terror's own speed as he lunged in. Fist met jaw with a +sickening thud. + +The Terror was a big and heavy man. His weight was added to Kid Wolf's +as both men came together. There was a snap as his head went +back--went back at too great an angle. His neck was broken instantly. +Without a moan, the bandit chief dropped limply to the sand, dead +before he ever reached it! + +Kid Wolf took a deep breath. Then he bent over the fallen man and +jerked the velvet mask from his features. He gasped in amazement. It +was Quiroz! For a moment the Texan could not believe his eyes. Then +the truth began to dawn on him. The Terror and the tyrannical governor +of Santa Fe were one and the same! Quiroz had led a double life for +years, and had covered his tracks well. So powerful had he become that +he had received the appointment as governor. No wonder he had refused +Kid Wolf aid! And no wonder he had sought his life! + +"Well, I guess his account is paid," said Kid Wolf grimly. "The Terror +of the Staked Plains is no more." + +He looked about him. The remainder of the bandits had made a thorough +retreat, leaving a large number of their companions on the plain behind +them. 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 people +of 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's +company. He had saved them from death--and worse. Not only that, but +they had learned to like him and depend on him. + +The Texan, however, declined to stay longer. Nor would he listen to +any thanks. + +"Adios," he called, "and good luck! Wheahevah the weakah side needs a +champion, 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 the +wagons. + +"Good-by, Jimmy Lee!" he called. + +He whirled in his saddle, touched Blizzard with the reins, and rode +away at a long lope. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +ON THE CHISHOLM TRAIL + +From the sweeps of high country bordering close upon Santa Fe, it was +no easy journey to the Chisholm Trail, even for a trail-eating horse of +Blizzard's caliber. But The Kid had taken his time. His ultimate +destination, unless fate altered his plans, was his own homeland--the +sandy Rio Grande country. + +More than anything else, it was the thirst for adventure that led the +buckskin-clad rider to the beaten cattle road which cut through +wilderness and prairie from Austin to the western Kansas beef markets. + +And now, after following the trail for one uneventful day, Kid Wolf had +left it--in search of water. A line of lofty cottonwoods on the +eastern horizon marked the course of a meandering stream and The Kid +had been glad of the chance to turn Blizzard's head toward it. Horse +and rider, framed in the intense blue of the western sky, formed a +picture of beauty and grace as they drummed through the unmarked +wastes. The Kid, riding "light" in his saddle, his supple body rising +and falling with the rhythm of his loping mount and yet firm in his +seat, dominated that picture. His face was tanned to the color of the +buckskin shirt he wore, and a vast experience, born of hardship and +danger on desert and mountain, was in his eyes--eyes that were +sometimes gray and sometimes steely blue. Just now they were as +carefree as the skies above. + +A stranger might have wondered just what Kid Wolf's business was. He +did not appear to be a cow-puncher, or a trapper or an army scout. A +reata was coiled at his saddle, and two big Colts swung from a beaded +Indian belt. No matter how curious the stranger might be, he would +have thought twice before asking questions. + +The horse, in color like snow with the sun on it, was splitting the +breeze--and yet the stride was easy and tireless. Blizzard, big and +immensely strong, was as fast as the winds that swept the Panhandle. + +The stream, Kid Wolf discovered, was a fairly large creek bordered with +a wild tangle of bushes, vines, and creeper-infested trees. It was no +easy matter to force one's way through the choked growth, especially +without 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 through +underbrush, even while on horseback. The country of the Indian +Nations, at that time, was a territory infested with peril. And even +now, although he seemed to be alone on the prairie, he was cautious. + +Some distance before he reached it, he saw the creek, swollen and brown +from rains above. So quiet was his approach that even a water +moccasin, sunning itself on the river bank, did not see him. + +Suddenly the white horse pricked up its ears. Kid Wolf, too, had heard +the sound, and he pulled up his mount to watch and listen, still as a +statue. + +Splash! Splash! A rider was bringing his horse down to the creek at a +walk. The sounds came from above and from across the stream. The +water on that side had overflowed its bank and lay across the sand in +blue puddles. In a few minutes Kid Wolf caught sight of a man on a +strawberry 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, even +before his quick muscles could act in time to save the newcomer it had +happened. From behind a bush clump, a figure had popped up, rifle +leveled. 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 pitched +headlong 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 frightened +pony 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 a +half-breed Indian. The dying sun glistened on his coppery, strongly +muscled flesh, for he was stripped to the waist. He wore trousers and +a hat, but his hair hung nearly to his shoulders in a coarse snarl, and +his feet were shod with dirty moccasins. + +Kid Wolf's eyes crackled. He had seen deliberate murder committed, an +unsuspecting 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 nothing +soft about his tone. The half-breed whirled about, then slowly +loosened his hold on his gun. It thudded to the grass. On a line with +his 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 Kid +did not shoot or seem to be about to do so, they began to glitter with +mockery. 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 do +about 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 to +bulge; his tongue protruded. With all his strength he struggled, but +Kid 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 about +it!" The Kid declared. + +The half-breed's yell was wild and unearthly, when the grip at his +throat was released. All the fight was taken out of him. Kid Wolf +shook him until his teeth rattled, picked him up bodily and hurled him +across his saddle. + +"I'm takin' yo' to the law," he drawled. "I might kill yo' now and be +justified, 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, men +make their own commandments. + +"Theah's a new town, I hear, not far from heah--Midway, I think they +call it," he drawled. "Yo're goin' theah with me, and if theah's no +law in Midway, I'll see that some laws are passed. And yo' won't need +that, eithah!" he added suddenly. + +The knife that the half-breed had attempted to draw tinkled to the +ground as The Kid gave the treacherous wrist a quick twist. + +"Step along, Blizzahd," sang out Kid Wolf in his Southern drawl. "Back +to 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 to +one of snakelike cunning. But if The Kid noted his half-concealed +smile, he paid no attention to it. They were soon on their way. + +Always, even in the savage lands beyond civilization, Kid Wolf tried to +take sides with the weak against the strong, with the right against the +wrong. And on more than one occasion he had found himself in hot water +because of it. + +The average man of the plains, upon seeing the murder committed, would +have considered it none of his business, and would have let well enough +alone. Another type would have killed the half-breed on general +principles. Kid Wolf however, determined that the murderer would be +given a fair trial and then punished. + +Again striking the Chisholm Trail--a well-beaten road several hundred +yards wide--he veered north. Thousands upon thousands of longhorns +from Texas and New Mexico had beaten that trail. This was the halfway +point. Kid Wolf had heard of a new settlement in the vicinity, and, +judging from the landmarks, he estimated it to be only a few miles +distant. + +In the meantime, the sun went down, creeping over the level horizon to +leave the world in shadows which gradually deepened into dusk. All the +while, the half-breed maintained a stoical silence. Kid Wolf, keeping +a careful eye on him, but ignoring him otherwise, hummed a fragment of +song: + + "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 The +Kid 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, or +camp 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 by +its light, as well as the few lights of the town, he could see that the +word "town" flattered the place known as "Midway." + +There were a few scattered sod houses, and on the one street were two +large buildings, facing each other on opposite sides of the road. The +first was a saloon, brilliantly lighted in comparison to the +semidarkness of the other, which seemed to be a general store. A sign +above it read: + + THE IDEL HOUR SALOONE + + +Below it, in similar letters, the following was spelled out, or rather +misspelled: + + JACK HARDY + OWNER AND PROPRIATER + + +As the only life of Midway seemed to be centered here, Kid Wolf drew up +his horse, Blizzard, dismounted, and dragged his prisoner to the +swinging green doors that opened into the Idle Hour Saloon. + +Pushing the half-breed through by main strength, he found himself in a +big room, lighted by three oil lamps and reflectors suspended from +beams in the roof. For all the haze of tobacco smoke, the place was +agleam with light. For a moment Kid Wolf stood still in astonishment. + +To find such a group of men together at one place, and especially such +a remote place, was surprising. A score or more of booted-and-spurred +loungers were at the bar and at the gambling tables. A roulette wheel +was spinning at full clip, its little ivory ball dancing merrily, and +at other tables were layouts of faro and various games of chance. +Cards were being riffled briskly at a poker game near the door, and a +little knot of men were in a corner playing California Jack. + +Kid Wolf took in these details at a glance. What puzzled him was that +these men did not appear to be cattlemen or followers of any calling, +unless possibly it was the profession of the six-gun. All were heavily +armed, and although that fact in itself was by no means unusual, The +Kid did not like the looks of several of the men he saw there. Some +were half-breeds of his prisoner's own stripe. + +At The Kid's entrance with his still-struggling prisoner, every one +stared. The bartender--a bulky fellow with a scarred face--paused in +the act of pouring a drink, his eyes widening. The quiet shuffle of +cards ceased, the wheel of fortune slowed to a clicking stop, and every +one looked up in sudden silence. + +Kid Wolf dragged the half-breed to the center of the room, holding him +by 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 approaching +trouble. Was it his imagination, or was a look flashed between the +half-breed and several of the men in the room? He sensed an alert +tenseness in the faces of those who were listening. One of the men, +whom the Kid immediately put down as the owner of the saloon--Jack +Hardy--was staring insolently. + +Hardy was flashily dressed, wearing fancy-stitched riding boots, a +fancy vest, and a short black coat, under which peeped the butt of a +silver-mounted .44. Kid Wolf's intuition told him that he was the man +he must eventually deal with. + +The saloon owner had been watching the faro game. Now, having heard +Kid Wolf out, he turned his back and deliberately faced the layout +again. + +"Go on with the game," he sneered to the dealer. + +There was a world of contempt in his silky voice, and Kid Wolf flushed +under his tan. Hardy pretended to ignore the visitor completely. The +faro dealer slid one card and then another from his box; the case +keeper moved a button or two on his rack. Then the dealer raked in the +winnings from the losers. The game was going on as usual. The +gamblers, taking their cue from Jack Hardy, turned to their games +again. It was as if Kid Wolf had never existed. + +The Kid took a firmer hold on the wriggling half-breed. "Do yo' know +this 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. The +lookout 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 dishonest +and unfriendly toward law and order. + +"I want yo' to understand me," he said in a voice he tried to make +patient. "This hombre--Tucumcari Pete, yo've called him--shot and +killed a man from ambush. Isn't there any law heah?" + +With long, tapered fingers, Jack Hardy rolled a cigarette, placed it +between his lips and leered insultingly. + +"There's only one law in Midway," he laughed evilly, "and that law is +that all strangers must attend to their own business. Now I don't know +who yuh are, but----" + +"I'm Kid Wolf," came the soft-spoken drawl, "from Texas. My enemies +usually 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 in +the Kid's hand as he passed by. So quickly was it done that nobody, it +seemed just then, had seen the movement. Kid Wolf's heart gave a +little 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 paper +ball? + +Hardy's eyes met the Texan's. They were insect eyes, beady and +glittering black. + +"All right," he snarled. "Mr. Wolf, you clear out!" + +The Texan's fiery Southern temper had reached its breaking point. It +snapped. In a twinkling, things were happening. Using quick, almost +superhuman strength, he picked up the half-breed by the neck and one +leg and hurled him, like a thunderbolt, into the group at the faro +table! + +Tucumcari Pete's wild yell was drowned out by the tremendous crash of +splintering wood and thudding flesh, as the half-breed's body hurtled +through the air to smash Jack Hardy down to the floor with the impact. + +The table went into kindling wood; chips and markers flew! A chair +banged against the lookout's high perch, just as he was bringing his +sawed-off shotgun to his shoulder. + +_Br-r-r-ram, bang!_ The double charge went into the ceiling, as the +lookout toppled to the floor to join his companions, now a mass of +waving arms and legs. + +Kid Wolf's twin .45s had come out as if by magic. He ducked low. He +did not need eyes in the back of his head to know that the men at the +bar would open fire at the drop of the hat! A bullet winged venomously +over him. Another one whined three inches from his ear. At the same +instant, a bottle, hurled by the bartender, smashed to fragments +against the wall. + +But with one quick spring, Kid Wolf had his back against the +green-shuttered door. For the first time, his Colts splattered red +flame and smoke. There were three distinct reports, but they came so +rapidly that they blended into one sullen, ear-shattering roar. He had +aimed at the swinging lamps, and they went out so quickly that it +seemed 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 as +well as the othah kind!" + +A score of revolver slugs, aimed at the sound of his voice, sent +showers 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 nowhere +to be seen! + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +M'CAY'S RECRUIT + +The Texan, after circling the town of Midway, rode in again. It was +not his way to leave a job unfinished, with only a threat behind. The +cigarette-paper note had aroused his curiosity to a fever heat. He +read it by the light of the moon. It consisted of three +pencil-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? He +dismissed the latter possibility and decided to go at once to the big +frame general store, using all the caution possible. + +Approaching the place from behind, he looked it over carefully before +dismounting. As Blizzard was conspicuous in the moonlight, he left him +in a thick clump of bushes and slipped through the shadows on foot. As +he 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 of +logs. It was so planned that a handful of defenders might hold it +against great odds. + +As Kid Wolf knocked softly on the rear door, he wondered if it had been +built merely as a security against the renegade Indians, or for some +other and deeper purpose. For a few minutes after he knocked, there +was silence, then the door slowly opened. The Texan found himself +looking into the barrel of a .45! + +"What do yuh want here?" + +Framed in the doorway, the Kid saw a grim young face glaring at him +over 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've +got it!" + +But it didn't. Kid Wolf's left hand snapped up under the gun and +rapped smartly at just the right spot the wrist that held it. It was a +trick blow--one that paralyzed the nerves for a second. The Colt +dropped from the boy's quickly extended fingers and fell neatly into +Kid Wolf's right hand! All had happened so quickly that the youth +hadn't time to squeeze the trigger. Before the amazed young man could +recover himself, the Texan handed over the gun, butt first. + +"Here yo' are," he drawled humorously. "To show yo' I mean well, I'm +givin' it back. I do wish, though, that yo'd kindly point it some +other way while I'm talkin'." + +The manner of the other changed at this. After losing his gun, he had +expected a quick bullet. + +"Guess yo're all right," he grinned slowly. "Come on in." + +Passing through the door, Kid Wolf noted the thick loophole-pierced +walls and other provisions for defense. Rifles stood on their stocks +at intervals, ready to be snatched up at a moment's notice. + +"Oh, dad!" the youth called in a low voice, as they entered the big +main room of the building. + +Six men were in the place, and The Kid took stock of them with one +appraising glance. Although just as heavily armed as the faction +across the street in the Idle Hour had been, they were of a different +type. They were cattlemen, some old, some young. All looked up, +startled. One of them got to his feet. He was a huge man and very +fat. His face was round and good-humored, although his puckered blue +eyes told of force and character. + +"What's the matter, 'Tip'?" he asked of Kid Wolf's escort. "Who is +this man?" + +The Texan smiled and bowed courteously. "Maybe I should explain, sah," +he drawled. "And aftah I'm done, perhaps yo'll have some information +to give me." + +He began his story, but was soon interrupted by an exclamation of anger +and grief from the boy's father. + +"A man on a strawberry roan, yuh say? And murdered! Why, that was +Hodgson--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 saloon +across the street, and of his reception there. + +"They-all told me to cleah out," he finished whimsically, "so I cleahed +out 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 gave +yuh that? I thought so! That was George Durham--one o' my men. He's +there 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 the +Texan's story, came forward to shake hands. They were introduced as +Caldwell, Anderson, Blake, Terry White, and "Scotty." All were +keen-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 can +find out why Jack Hardy has imported those gunmen, and what he plans to +do. 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 I +sell '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 in +stolen herds on a large scale. He's swore to get me, at the time when +it'll do him the most good. In other words, at the time when he can +get the most loot. + +"So far," McCay went on, "there's been no bloodshed. To-day it seems +he'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 rode +south on the Chisholm Trail this mornin'." + +"What does that signify?" + +"Plenty," McCay explained. "Six o' my men are drivin' fifteen hundred +steers up this way. Quite a haul, yuh see, for Hardy. They're due +here tonight. If they don't get here----" The big man's wide mouth +hardened. + +"But I'm afraid I'm a poor host," he added apologetically. "Yuh'll +have supper and stay the night with us, I'm sure. Tip, you an' Scotty +go out and bring in The Kid's hoss." + +The Texan consented, thanking him, and all began to make preparations +for the night. The big general store seemed more like a fort in time +of war than anything else. Some of the men slept on the counters in +the main room. A place was made for Kid Wolf in the rear. Sentries +were on watch during the entire night, which passed uneventfully. + +In the morning, just as the dawn was glowing in the east, the Texan was +awakened by a horrified cry. All rushed to the front windows. Across +the wide street, over the Idle Hour Saloon, a man was dangling, +suspended from the roof by a rope! It was Durham--the man who had +given Kid Wolf the cigarette-paper note. Some one had seen him in the +act, and the fiends had lynched him. + +"That settles it," said Kid Wolf grimly, turning to McCay. "I reckon +I'm throwin' in with yo'. My guns are at yo' service!" + + +It was a situation not uncommon in that wilderness where "the law +isn't, and the six-shooter is." Kid Wolf, however, had never seen a +bolder attempt to trample on the rights of honest men. His veins beat +hot at the thought of it. And Jack Hardy seemed to have the power to +see it through to its murderous end. + +It was not long after the discovery of Durham's murder when Tip McCay +brought 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 one +the whole night through," Tip said. + +The note was roughly penciled on a sheet of yellow paper, and the +message it carried was significant: + + +Ef yu will all walk out of their without yore guns we promiss no harm +will com to yu. Ef yuh dont, we will get yu to the last man. We +alreddy got yore cattel. This offer dont go fer Kid Wolf. We no hes +their 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 the +insolent letter to bits, were trembling with anger. + +"I say let 'em hop to it!" he jerked out. "I ain't givin' in to +anybody!" + +The others cheered. And it was a fighting group of men who gathered +for a conference as to the defense of the store. It was agreed that +their position was a serious one, outnumbered as they were. + +Just how serious, they soon found out, for at the rising of the sun--as +if it had been a signal--a burst of gunfire blazed out from the saloon +across the street. Splinters flew from the logs as bullets thudded +into them. Several whined through the two windows and crashed into the +wall. + +Kid Wolf took an active part in quickly getting ready for a stand. The +windows 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 behind +the barricade for further protection, and just enough space was left +clear to allow a gun to be aimed through. + +The volley from the Idle Hour had injured no one. The firing continued +more or less steadily, however, and an occasional slug ripped its way +between 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 wasting +ammunition. 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 they +rush us, we'll need to shoot fast!" + +Several rifles were hunted up--Winchesters and two muzzle-loading +Sharps .50s. There were also a powder-and-ball buffalo gun of the old +pattern, and, to Kid Wolf's delight, a sawed-off, double-barreled +shotgun. + +In the light of the early morning, each detail of the grim scene was +brought out minutely. It was a picture Kid Wolf never forgot! Across +the street that formed the No Man's Land was the saloon, wreathed in +powder smoke, as guns spat sullen flame. And swinging slightly above +the splintered green-shuttered doors was the dead body of Durham, neck +stretched 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 a +protection against flying bullets. Kid Wolf suggested that they be +saddled, 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 was +a 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 up +the sawed-off shotgun. + +The Texan was right. A yell went up from the saloon, and a dozen men +rushed out, firing as they came. Six others carried a heavy beam, +evidently torn from the interior of the Idle Hour. It was their +intention to use this as a battering-ram to smash in the door of the +store. + +The cry from the defenders was "Let 'em have it!" + +The terrific thunder of the shotgun and the buffalo rifle blended with +the loud roar of six-guns. Hammers fell with deadly regularity. Fire +blazed from every loophole and shooting space. + +When the smoke cleared away, Tip McCay emitted a whoop that the others +echoed. The charge had been stopped, and very effectively. The big +beam 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 the +other out of business with bullets through both legs. A little to one +side were two more of the outlaws, one of whom had been brought down by +Tip McCay, the other by the lantern-jawed, slow-spoken plainsman known +as Scotty. The others had beaten a quick retreat to the shelter of the +saloon. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +ONE GAME HOMBRE + +Hardy's gang did not attempt another rush. They had learned their +lesson. Keeping under cover, they continued firing steadily, however, +and their bullets began to do damage. Every crack and chink was a +target. + +In the afternoon, more riders arrived to swell the Hardy faction. Some +were ugly, half-clothed Indians, armed with rusty guns and bows and +arrows. The odds were steadily increasing. + +As there was ample food and water in the storehouse to last for several +days, the besieged had no worries on that score. McCay knew, though, +and Kid Wolf realized, that nightfall would bring trouble. Hardy was +stung now by the loss of several men, and he would not do things by +halves. He would show no mercy. + +The first casualty took place in midafternoon. Anderson, in the act of +aiming his revolver through a loophole, was hit between the eyes by a +bullet and instantly killed. The number of men defending the store was +now cut down to seven. + +Toward nightfall, tragedy overtook them, full force. Old Beef McCay +was in the act of reloading a gun when a treacherous bullet zipped +spitefully through an opening between two logs and caught him low in +the 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 weight +as it slowly sagged. + +"Got me--son!" the cattleman jerked out. + +Quickly the Texan tore away his shirt. He did not have to examine the +wound to see how deadly it was; one glance was enough. Shot a few +inches 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 turned +glazing 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 of +this trap alive, Tip and I will do ouah best." + +The stricken man's face lighted. He grasped his son, Tip, with one +hand, 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 his +wound, walked firmly and steadily to the door and began kicking the +barricade aside. + +"What are yuh doin'?" one of the defenders cried, thinking he was +delirious 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 waved +them 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're +doin' it!" + +He seemed stronger now than ever. Sheer will power was keeping him on +his feet. Seizing two revolvers, one in each big fist, he wabbled +through the door. + +With horror-widened eyes, they watched his reeling progress. He +faltered to the hitch rack with bullets humming all around him. He +clung to it for a moment, then went on, stalking toward the Idle Hour +like grim vengeance! His guns sputtered red fire and bursts of black +powder smoke. Hit time after time--they could see the dust fly from +his clothing as he staggered along under the dreadful impacts--he kept +going. It was glorious, terrible! + +Tip hid his eyes, with a despairing cry. Kid Wolf watched, his face +white under his sunburn. + +Up to the very door of the Hardy refuge, the old man walked, his guns +hammering claps of thunder. Hit several times in the body, he sprawled +once 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 his +blazing guns. Then McCay, too, fell--for the last time. + +"Yo' dad was one game hombre, Tip," murmured the Texan, putting a +comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "Let's hope that when ouah turn +comes, we can go as bravely." + +He had never seen such an exhibition of undaunted courage. Although +the 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 make +good his promise to Old Beef McCay! + + +The McCay store was surrounded on all sides, and its four walls were +scarred and pitted with bullet holes. And night was coming on rapidly. +Kid Wolf saw the peril of their position. He knew, only too well, that +the darkness would add to their troubles. + +Twilight was deepening into dusk. Soon it became dark, and the moon +would not be up for an hour. Kid Wolf, Tip McCay, and their four +companions were never more alert. But even their keen eyes could not +watch 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 Hardy +gang. Thirsty for vengeance, they kept their eyes glued to their +peepholes, fingers on gun triggers. + +Tip had found a friend in Kid Wolf. No words were wasted on sympathy +now, or regrets, but Tip knew that the drawling Texan understood. + +There was little shooting being done now, and the suspense was telling +on the nerves of all of them. What was Hardy up to? Would he again +attempt to batter down the door and force a way in, under cover of +darkness 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, one +of the slinking Indians had crept up and ignited a pile of oil-soaked +rags against the logs of the building. The flames rose high, licking +hungrily upward. + +"Get water!" some one shouted. + +A bucketful or two from their supply tossed accurately through a +loophole by Kid Wolf extinguished the blaze before it could rise +higher. 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 be +reached 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 up +into the sky like so many rockets. Fire whistled in the wind. The +streaks were burning arrows, fired by Hardy's red-skinned cutthroats! + +"That settles it!" groaned Tip resignedly. "They're fallin' on the +roof!" + +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, it +was more to the rustler chief's purpose than smashing in the door. It +would soon be all over for the defenders now. + +In a breath, the roof was afire. Little jets of smoke began to spurt +down from the beams over their heads, and the flames were fanned into a +roar by the wind. Desperately the little handful of fighters exchanged +glances. Things looked black indeed. They could not remain long in +the burning death trap, and outside was Hardy's gang, waiting in the +darkness to shoot them down if they ventured to escape. + +"Steady, boys!" encouraged the Texan. "Theah may be a chance fo' us +yet." + +But one of them--Blake--was overcome with terror. In spite of what the +others did to restrain him, he ran outside, tearing his way through the +barricade. His hands were raised wildly over his head in token of +surrender. But that made no difference to Hardy. There was a dull +spat, and Blake went sprawling, shot through the heart. + +"I hope nobody else tries that," drawled The Kid. "When we go, let's +go togethah. By the light of this fiah they can see the colah of ouah +eyes. 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. Already +flames were creeping down the walls, and the air was as hot as the +breath of an oven. Their faces were blistered, their exposed hands +cooked. Tip's coat was afire, as all five of them made a dash for the +smaller room, taking the extra guns and ammunition with them. + +This gave them a short respite. As yet the fire had not reached this +apartment, although it would not take long. The smoke was soon so +thick as nearly to be blinding. Stationing themselves at the +loopholes, they began to work havoc with their rifles and revolvers. +For the outlaws, bolder now, had ventured closer and made good targets +in the glare of the burning building. + +Suddenly there was a tremendous crash. The roof over the main room had +come smashing in! Instantly the fire roared louder; tongues of it +began to lick through the walls. Wood popped, and the heat became +maddening. One side of the room became a mass of flames. The +imprisoned men began to wet their clothing with the little water that +was left. + +"The stable!" ordered Kid Wolf. "Quick!" + +The stable was built against the side of the store in the rear, and a +door of the smaller room opened into it. There they must make their +last stand. + +The horses--and among them was Kid Wolf's white charger, Blizzard--were +trembling 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 the +Texan. + +"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. And +once caught, it burned like tinder. The horses screamed as the fire +licked at them, and all was confusion. To make matters worse, bullets +ripped through continually. + +The Hardy band had gathered about the burning buildings in a close +ring, ready to shoot down any one the instant he showed himself. The +situation looked hopeless. + +"Stay in there if yuh want to!" a voice shouted outside. "Burn up, or +take lead! It's all the same to us!" + +The heat-tortured Scotty staggered to his feet and groped toward one of +the 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 make +the break when I say the word. But not until!" + +Gritting their teeth, they prepared to endure the baking heat for a few +minutes more. They did not know what Kid Wolf was going to do, but +they had faith that he would do something. And they knew, as things +stood, that they could not hope for anything but death if they tried to +escape now. + +The stable was a mass of flames. The walls were crumbling and falling +in. The Texan gave his final orders. + +"If any of us get through," he gasped, "we'll meet on the Chisholm +Trail--below heah. Ride hard, with heads low--when I say the word!" + +Then Kid Wolf played his trump card. Upon leaving the store itself, he +had taken a small keg with him--a powder keg. Until now, none of the +others had noticed it. Holding it in his two hands, he darted through +the 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' us +all to kingdom come!" + +The Texan made a glorious picture as he stood there, framed in red and +yellow. Fire was under his feet and on every side. The glow of it +illuminated his face, which was stained with powder smoke and blackened +by the flames. His eyes shone joyously, and a laugh of defiance and +recklessness was on his lips as he swung the poised keg aloft. + +The Hardy gang, frozen with terror for an instant, scattered. They ran +like 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, one +spark would set it off. Overcome with panic, the ring of outlaws +melted into the night. + +The Texan gave the signal, and Tip, Caldwell, Scotty, and White tore +out of the doorway on their frightened horses, heads low, scattering as +they came. Kid Wolf whistled sharply for Blizzard and pulled himself +effortlessly into the saddle as the big white horse went by at a mad +gallop. He tossed away the keg as he did so. + +The Hardy faction began shooting then, but it was too late. Bullets +hummed over the heads of the escaping riders, but not one found its +mark. + +Kid Wolf found himself riding alongside Tip McCay. The others had +taken different routes. The sounds of guns behind them were rapidly +growing fainter, and they were hidden by the pitch darkness. Kid Wolf +heard 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 that +powder keg yuh used?" + +"Yes, I knew all the time," chuckled The Kid. "It wasn't powdah at +all. It was lime. I found that out when I tried to load a Sharps +rifle 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 miles +below Midway on the Chisholm Trail. The former three were jubilant +over their unexpected release from the fire trap, but they agreed with +the Texan's first proposal. + +"We've got mo' work to do, boys," he drawled. "If we wanted to, we +could give that gang the slip fo' good and make ouah get-away. I +think, though, that yo' feel as I do. What do yo' say we rustle back +that herd o' longhorns that Hardy stole from Tip's dad?" + +It meant running into danger again, and lots of it, but none of them +hesitated. Kid Wolf had made his promise, and the others vowed to see +him through. It took them but a few moments to plan their reckless +venture and get into action. + +The Kid hated Hardy now, just as heartily as did Tip McCay. And even +if he had not given his word to the dying cattleman, he would not have +left 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 other +measures failed to punish. And now, even although handicapped and +outnumbered, he planned to strike. The stolen herd represented a small +fortune, and rightfully belonged to Tip McCay and his mother. But +where were the longhorns now? + +Tip's suggestion was helpful. He thought the cattle could not be more +than a few miles below. They quickly decided to ride south, and Tip +and The Kid led the way. The moon was up now, and it lighted the open +prairie with a soft glow. The five riders pounded down the old +Chisholm cattle road at a furious clip, eyes open for signs. Presently +Tip cried: + +"We'll find 'em down there at Green Springs! I see a light! It's a +camp fire!" + +On the horizon they made out the feathery tops of trees against the +sky, and riding closer, they could see a dark mass bunched up around +them--little dots straying out at the edges. It was the stolen McCay +herd! + +No general on the field of battle planned more carefully than the +Texan. The party came closer, warily and making no noise. As they did +so, they could hear the bawling of the cattle. Some were milling and +restless, and the cattleman could see four men on horses at different +points, attempting to keep the animals quiet and soothed. At the camp +fire, several hundred yards from the springs, were four other men. Two +of these seemed to be asleep in their blankets; the other pair were +talking and smoking. + +"The odds," drawled Kid Wolf in a low tone, "are eight to five in theah +favah. Tip, yo' take the man on the no'th. Scotty, yores is the +hombre 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 work +togethah. They won't know who we are at first, probably, and will +think 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 his +companion's sleeve. Two other men lay snoring on the other side of the +crackling 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 was +tryin' to say is this: If Jack Hardy splits reasonable with us, why +we----" + +He was interrupted. Both men glanced up, to see a tall figure +sauntering 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're +a little late. Will yo' kindly poke yo' hands into the atmospheah?" + +The two outlaws experienced a sudden wilting of their gun arms. It was +quick death to attempt to draw while the round black eyes of this +stranger's twin Colts were on them. + +With a jerk, both threw up their hands. One gave a shout--a cry meant +to warn his companions. + +A shot from the direction of the herd told them, however, that the +other outlaws were already aware of something unusual. + +The two bandits in the blankets jumped up, rubbing their eyes in +amazement. A kick from Kid Wolf's boot sent the .45 of one of them +flying. 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 minutes +by Tip, White, Caldwell, and Scotty, who were driving two prisoners +before them. + +"Bueno!" said The Kid. "I see yo' got the job done without much +trouble. 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 past +Midway, the trail to Dodge was clear. But there was plenty of work to +do in the meantime. + + +An hour after sunup, the herd of fifteen hundred steers was moving +northward toward Midway. Kid Wolf and his four riders had them well +under control, and had it not been for a certain alertness in their +bearing, one would have thought it an ordinary cattle drive. + +Kid Wolf was singing to the longhorns in a half-mocking, drawling +tenor, 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 brought +along. Already several miles had been traveled. And thus far the +party had seen no signs of Jack Hardy's rustler gang. They were not, +however, deceived. With every passing minute they were approaching +closer to Midway, the Hardy stronghold. And not only that, but the +outlaws 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 stone +and never entirely finished. Indians sometimes camped within the +inclosure. It was, however, empty of life, and the adventurers were +about to push on with the herd when the keen, roving eyes of Kid Wolf +spotted something suspicious on the north horizon. He held his hand +aloft, 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 or +unprepared. They were favored, too, in having such a place for +defense. Save for the low walls of the abandoned corral, there was no +cover worth mentioning for miles. Among the cool-eyed five who +prepared to make their stand, there was not one who hadn't faced death +before and often. But never had the odds been more against them. They +had slipped through the toils before, but now they were tightening +again. + +Watching the riders as they grew larger against the sky, they could +count two dozen of them. There was no use to hide. They could not +conceal the cattle herd, and the Hardy gang would surely investigate. +Already they were veering in their course, riding directly toward the +stone corral. + +"Aweel," muttered Scotty, lapsing into his Scotch dialect for the +moment, "there isn't mooch doot about how this thing will end. But I'm +a-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 pick +Hardy out o' that gang o' killers, and if I do, I don't care much then +what happens." + +The prisoners had been herded within the corral, and their feet were +lashed together. + +"Yuh'll soon be listenin' to bullets," Caldwell told them. "Yuh'd +better 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 horses +and 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 a +shower of clods behind it. And as if this first shot were signal, a +shattering volley rang out from the oncoming riders. Bits of stone and +bursts of sand flew up from the low stone breastworks. + +"We got yuh this time!" one of the rustlers shouted. "We're givin' yuh +one chance to come out o' there!" + +"And we're givin' yuh all the chances yo' want," replied Kid Wolf, "to +come and get us!" + +For answer, the horsemen--two dozen strong--charged! In a breath, they +had struck and had been driven back. So quickly had it happened that +nobody remembered afterward just how it had been done. The Texan's two +Colts grew hot and cooled again. Three riderless horses galloped about +the corral in circles, and the thing was over! + +It had been sheer nerve and courage against odds, however. Three of +the attackers fell from their horses before the stone walls had been +gained, and three others had met with swift trouble inside. The rest +had retreated hastily, leaving six dead and wounded behind. Only +Caldwell 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 up +largely of half-breeds and Indians. The Texan knew their ways. That +first charge had been only half-hearted. The next time, the outlaws +would fight to a finish, angered as they were to a fever heat. And +although the defenders might account for a few more of the renegades, +the end was inevitable. Kid Wolf did not lose his cool smile. He had +been in tight situations before, and had long ago resigned himself to +dying, when his time came, in action. + +"Here they come again!" barked Scotty grimly. But suddenly a burst of +rifle fire rang out in the distance--a sharp, crackling volley. Two of +the outlaw gang dropped. One horse screamed and fell heavily with its +rider. + +The five defenders saw to their utter amazement that a large band of +horsemen was riding in from the east at a hot gallop, guns spitting +fire. As a rescue, it was timed perfectly. The rustlers had been +about to charge the corral, and now they reined up in panic, undecided +what 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 here +an'----" + +But the Texan knew he was right. He had seen the sun glittering on the +silver badge that one of the strange riders wore. + +The rustlers themselves were outnumbered now. The posse included a +score of men, and they handled their guns in a determined way. The +outlaws fired a wild shot or two, then signified their surrender by +throwing up their hands. While the sullen renegades were being +searched and disarmed, the leader of the posse came over to where the +Texan 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 Kid +politely. + +"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' Limpin +Buffalo County. I've brought my posse over two hundred miles to get my +hands on one o' the worst gangs o' rustlers in the Injun Nations. I +don't know who you are, but the fact that yuh were fightin' 'em is +enough fer me. I know yo're all right." + +"Thanks, sheriff," said the Texan. "I'm leavin' Mr. Tip McCay heah to +tell 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's +saddle. "Looks like a clean sweep has been made of the Hahdy +gang--except Hahdy himself. I reckon I'll ride in and get him, so's to +make the pahty complete." + +"Hardy!" the officer ejaculated. "I want that _malo hombre_--and +mighty bad, dead or alive!" + +"Let us go along!" burst out Tip. + +"No," laughed the Texan quietly. "Yo' boys have had enough dangah and +excitement fo' one day, not includin' yestahday. I'd rathah settle +this little business with Jack Hahdy alone. Yo' drive the cattle on +and meet me latah." + +And lifting his hand in farewell, The Kid touched his white charger +with 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 that +was a pair of beady black eyes watching him from behind a prairie-dog +hill! One of the renegade half-breeds had managed to slip away from +the posse unseen. It was Tucumcari Pete, and in a draw a few yards +away was his pony. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +TUCUMCARI'S HAND + +Jack Hardy was annoyed. He had planned carefully, expecting to have no +difficulty in wiping out the hated McCays and those who sympathized +with them. + +His plans had only partially succeeded. The elder McCay was dead, but +Tip and some of the others had slipped through his clutches. To have +the McCay faction wiped out of Midway forever meant money and power to +him. 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 available +man, even his bartender, out on the chase. He wanted to finish, at all +costs, what he had begun. + +"It was all due to that blasted hombre from Texas!" he groaned. "I +wish I had him here, curse him! It would've all gone smooth enough if +he hadn't meddled. Well, he'll pay! The boys will get him. And when +they do----" Hardy thumped the bar with his fist in fury. + +He paced the floor angrily. The deserted building seemed to be getting +on his nerves, for he went behind the bar several times and, with +shaking fingers, poured stiff drinks of red whisky. Then he walked to +one of the deserted card tables and began to riffle the cards aimlessly. + +There were two reasons why the rustling saloon keeper had not joined in +the search for his victims. One was that he hated to leave unprotected +the 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 gun +fighting. He was still seated at the card table, laying out a game of +solitaire, when the swinging doors of the saloon opened quietly. The +first inkling Hardy had of a stranger's presence, however, was the soft +drawl 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, frozen +with surprise. Then he turned his head, and his right hand moved +snakelike downward. Just a few inches it moved, then it stopped. +Hardy had thought he had a chance, and then he suddenly decided that he +hadn't. At his first glance, he had seen Kid Wolf's hands carelessly +at his sides; at his second, he saw them holding two .45s! + +Kid Wolf's smile was mocking as he sauntered into the room. His thumbs +were 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 had +paled to the color of paper, and beads of perspiration stood out on his +pasty 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 a +rope. It's been waitin' fo' yo' a long time. But now I have some +business 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's +black coat. + +"Next thing," he drawled, "I want yo' to take that body down from in +front o' yo' do'." + +Kid Wolf referred to the corpse of the unfortunate McCay spy whom Hardy +had 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 the +dead man's neck. Released from the noose, the body sagged to the +ground. + +"Just leave the noose theah," ordered The Kid. "It may be that the +sheriff will have some use fo' it." + +"The sheriff!" Hardy repeated blankly. + +"Yes, he'll be heah soon," murmured Kid Wolf softly. "I have some +business with yo' first. Maybe we'd bettah go to yo' office." + +Jack Hardy's office was a little back room, divided off from the main +one of the Idle Hour. In spite of his protests, Hardy was compelled to +unlock 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'. In +behalf of Tip and his mothah, I'm demandin'--well, I think ten thousand +dollahs 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 no +time 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 bag +of gold coins. Ordering Hardy to take a chair opposite, Kid Wolf began +to count the money carefully. To allow himself the free use of his +hands, he holstered both his guns. + +"When this little mattah is settled," the Texan drawled, "I have a +little personal business with yo', man to man." + +Jack Hardy moistened his lips feverishly. Although he was not now +covered by The Kid's guns, he lacked the courage to begin a fight. He +knew 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 odd +fo' thousand, two hundred will go to the families of the men yo' +murdahed yestahday. And now, Mistah Jack Hahdy, my personal business +with 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 his +dirty 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 draw +his Colts! It seemed that the half-breed had taken a hand in the game +and that he held the winning cards! In a second it would be over. The +half-breed's finger was reaching for the trigger; his mouth was twisted +into a gloating, vicious smile. + +But while The Kid was seated in such a position at the table that he +could not hope to reach his guns quickly enough, he had his hole +card--the bowie knife in a sheath concealed inside his shirt collar. +The Kid could draw and hurl, if necessary, that gleaming blade as +rapidly as he could pull his 45s. His hand darted up and back. +Something glittered in the air for just a breath, and there was a +singing _twang_! + +Tucumcari Pete gasped. His weird cry ended in a gurgle. He lowered +his rifle and teetered on his feet. The flying knife had found its +mark--the half-breed's throat! The keen-pointed blade had buried +itself nearly to the guard! Clawing at the steel, Tucumcari staggered, +then dropped to the floor with his clattering rifle. His body jerked +for 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 up +with an oath, he hurled the table over upon The Kid and leaped for the +door. The Texan scrambled from under the heavy table and darted after +him. Hardy was running for his life. He raced into the main room of +the Idle Hour with The Kid at his heels. + +Kid Wolf could have drawn his guns and shot him down. But it was too +easy. Unless forced to do so, that was not the Texan's way. + +Snatching open a drawer in one of the gambling tables, Hardy seized a +large-bore derringer and whirled it up to shoot. But The Kid's steel +fingers closed on his wrist. The ugly little pistol exploded into the +ceiling--once, and then the other barrel. + +"There'll be no guns used!" said The Kid, with a deadly smile. "I told +yo' we'd have this out man to man!" + +Hardy's lips writhed back in a snarl of hatred. He sent a smashing +right-hand jab at the Texan's heart. Kid Wolf blocked it, stepped to +one side and lashed the rustler king under the eye. Hardy staggered +back against the table, clutching it for support. The Kid pressed +closer, and Hardy dodged around the table, placing it between him and +his enemy. The Texan hurled it to one side and smashed his way through +the saloon owner's guard. + +Hardy, head down to escape The Kid's terrific blows, bucked ahead with +all his power and weight advantage and seized him about the waist. It +was apparent that he was trying to get his hands on one of the Texan's +guns. At close range, Kid Wolf smashed at him with both hands, his +fists 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 in +the 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 was +telling on him. His breath was coming in jerky gasps. Seizing the +high 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 jumping +backward to avoid it, darted in like a wild cat. While the stool was +still at the apex of its swing, he struck, with the strength of his +shoulder behind the blow. It landed full on the rustler's jaw, and +Hardy went crashing backward, heels over head, landing on the wreckage +of 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 muscles +behind his sledgelike fists, he hit Hardy twice. The first blow +stopped Hardy, straightened him up with a jolt and placed him in +position for the second one--a right-hand uppercut. Smash! It landed +squarely on the point of Hardy's weak chin. The blow was enough to +fell 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 which +Hardy had hanged the McCay spy, George Durham, still hung before the +door, its noose swaying in the wind some five feet from the ground. +Hardy hit it. His head struck the rope with terrific force--caught in +the loop for an instant. There was a sharp snap, and Hardy dropped to +the wooden sidewalk. For a few moments, his body twitched +spasmodically, then lay still and rigid. His neck had been broken by +the 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 their +sharp 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 for +now--Tip's mother. + +"I guess we've got the job done, Blizzard." He smiled at the big white +horse that was standing at the hitch rack. "Heah comes the boys!" + +It was a wondering group that gathered, a few minutes later, in the +ill-fated Idle Hour. They listened in amazement to Kid Wolf's recital +of what had taken place since he left them. + +"And so Hardy hanged himself!" the sheriff from Limping Buffalo +ejaculated, when he could find his voice. "Well, I must say that saves +me 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," he +drawled. "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, his +voice 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, I +always try to make the troubles of the undah dawg, mah troubles. So +long as theah are unfohtunates and downtrodden folks in this world, +I'll have mah work cut out. I am, yo' might say, a soldier of +misfohtune." + +"But yo're not goin'?" Tip cried, seeing the Texan swing himself into +his saddle. + +"I'm just a rollin' stone--usually a-rollin' toward trouble," said the +Texan. "Some time, perhaps, we'll meet again. Adios!" + +Kid Wolf swung his hat aloft, and he and his white horse soon blurred +into 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 for +half an hour. At first he had thought it only a whirling dervish--one +of those restless columns of sand that continually shift over the arid +lands. But it was following the course of the trail below him on the +desert--rounding each bend and twist of it. + +The Texan, astride his big white horse, had been "hitting the high +places only," riding directly south at an easy clip, but scorning the +trail whenever a short cut presented itself. + +Descending from the higher ground of the mesa now, by means of an +arroyo leading steeply down upon the plain, he saw what was kicking up +the dust. It was a buckboard, drawn by a two-horse team, and traveling +directly toward him at a hot clip. There was one person, as far as he +could 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 the +buckboard and its passenger face to face. + +Kid Wolf had no intention of avoiding the meeting, but something in the +tenseness of the figure on the seat of the vehicle, even at that +distance, caused his gray-blue eyes to pucker. + +The distance between him and the buckboard rapidly decreased as Kid +Wolf's white horse drummed down between the chocolate-colored walls of +the arroyo. Between him and the team on the trail now was only a +stretch of level white sand, dotted here and there with low burrow +weeds. Suddenly, the driver of the buckboard whirled the shotgun. The +double barrels swung up on a line with Kid Wolf. + +Quick as the movement was, the Texan had learned to expect the +unexpected. In the West, things happened, and one sought the reason +for them afterward. His hands went lightning-fast toward the twin .45s +that hung at his hips. + +But Kid Wolf did not draw. A look of amazement had crossed his +sun-burned face and he removed his hands from his gun butts. Instead +of firing on the figure in the buckboard, Kid Wolf wheeled his horse +about quickly, and turned sidewise in his saddle in order to make as +small a target as possible. + +The shotgun roared. Spurts of sand were flecked up all around The Kid +and the big white horse winced and jumped as a ball smashed the +saddletree a glancing blow. Another slug went through the Texan's hat +brim. Fortunately, he was not yet within effective range. + +Even now, Kid Wolf did not draw his weapons. And he did not beat a +retreat. Instead, he rode directly toward the buckboard. The click of +a gun hammer did not stop him. One barrel of the shotgun remained +unfired and its muzzle had him covered. + +But the Texan approached recklessly. He had doffed his big hat and now +he made a courteous, sweeping bow. He pulled his horse to a halt not +ten 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's +breathless pause. + +"There's nine buckshot in the other barrel," said a feminine voice--a +voice 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 that +yo' are in trouble. May I help yo'?" + +Doubtfully, the woman lowered her weapon. She was middle-aged, kindly +faced, and her eyes were swollen from weeping. She looked out of place +with the shotgun--friendless and very much alone. + +"I don't know whether to trust you or not," she said wearily. "I +suppose 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 in +this cruel land is my enemy. You're an outlaw--and probably one of the +murderers who killed my husband." + +"Please believe that I'm not," the Texan told her earnestly. "I'm a +strangah to this district. Won't yo' tell me yo' story? I want to +help yo'." + +"There isn't much to tell," the driver of the buckboard said in a +quavering 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 murdered +yesterday." + +Not until then did Kid Wolf see the grim cargo of the buckboard. His +face 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, in +San Felipe, offered me ten thousand for it, some time ago. It's worth +more, 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 was +in the army, so far as any one knows. He just fancies the title and +calls himself 'Major Stover'--though he has no right to do so." + +"A kind of four-flushin' hombre--a coyote in sheep's clothin', I should +judge," 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 The +Kid. + +"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 hundred +head. Then yesterday"--she paused and her eyes filled with +tears--"yesterday my husband was shot while he was standing at the edge +of the corral. I don't know who did it." + +No wonder this woman felt that every hand was turned against her. Kid +Wolf's eyes blazed. + +"Won't the law help yo'?" he demanded. + +"There isn't any law," said the woman bitterly. "Now you understand +why I fired at you. I was desperate--nearly frantic with grief. I +hardly knew what I was doing." + +"Well, just go back home to yo' ranch, ma'am. I don't think yo' need +to 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 in +San 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' basis +again. 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, and +the foreman--Steve Stacy. But, tell me, who are you--to do this for a +stranger, 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. Those +who do the oppressin' usually learn to call me by mah last name. Now +don't worry any mo', but just leave yo' troubles to me." + +Mrs. Thomas smiled, too. She dried her eyes and looked at the Texan +gratefully. + +"I've known you ten minutes," she said, "and somehow it seems ten +years. I do trust you. But please don't get yourself in trouble on +account of Ma Thomas. You don't know those men. This is a hard +country--terribly hard." + +Kid Wolf, however, only smiled at her warning. He remained just long +enough to obtain two additional bits of information--the location of +the S Bar and the distance to the town of San Felipe. Then he turned +his horse's head about, and with a cheerful wave of his hand, struck +out for the latter place. The last he saw of Mrs. Thomas, she was +turning her team. + +Kid Wolf realized that he had quite a problem on his hands. The work +ahead of him promised to be difficult, but, as usual, he had gone into +it impulsively--and yet coolly. + +"We've got a big ordah to fill, Blizzahd," he murmured, as his white +horse 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 had +aroused hopes that might not materialize. The plight of Mrs. Thomas +had stirred him deeply. His pulses had raced with anger at her +persecutors--whoever they were. His Southern chivalry, backed up by +his 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 got +to see this thing through!" + +Ma Thomas--he had seen at a glance--was a plains-woman. Courage and +character were in her kindly face. The Texan's heart had gone out to +her in her trouble and need. + +Once again he found himself in his native territory, but in a country +gone strange to him. Ranchers and ranches had come in overnight, it +seemed 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 the +muddy Rio. It was Texas--stern, vast, mighty. + +And, if what Mrs. Thomas had said was correct, law hadn't kept pace +with the country's growth. There was no law. Kid Wolf knew what that +meant. His face was very grim as he left the wagon trail behind. + +The town of San Felipe--two dozen brown adobes, through which a +solitary street threaded its way--sprawled in the bottom of a canyon +near 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 its +size in twenty-four hours. San Felipe was noisy and wide awake. + +It was December. The sun, however, was warm overhead. The sky was +cloudless and the distant range of low mountains stood out sharp and +clear against the sky. As Kid Wolf rode into the town, a hard wind was +blowing across the sands and it was high noon. + +San Felipe's single street presented an interesting appearance. Most +of the long, flat adobes were saloons--The Kid did not need to read the +signs above them to see that. The loungers and hangers-on about their +doors 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 The +Kid 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 the +major before he had observed the sign, and wondering about the man's +offer to buy the S Bar Ranch. The Texan whistled softly as he +dismounted. He left Blizzard waiting at the hitch rack, and sauntered +to 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 first +impression was the disagreeable smell of cigar stumps. + +His eyes fell upon the man at the desk by the dirty window, and he +experienced a sudden start--an uncomfortable feeling. The Texan did +not often dislike a man at first sight, but he was a keen reader of +character. + +"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 fell +upon 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, I +believe?" + +"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 by +Rattlesnake 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 of +the 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 as +Mrs. 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 time +make such an offer. However, I have reconsidered. My price is now +three 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 her +where 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 his +weight, and in spite of his bulk, The Kid handled him as if he had been +a child. An upward jerk dragged him from his chair. The Texan held +him by one muscular hand. + +"So yo' have her where yo' want her, have yo'?" he cried, giving the +major a powerful shake. + +He passed his other hand over the land agent's flabby body, poking the +folds of fat here and there over Major Stover's ribs. At each thump +the 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 try +that!" + +Major Stover had attempted to draw an ugly-looking derringer. The Kid +calmly took it away from him and threw it across the room. He shook +the 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 a +crashing, rending sound as Stover's huge body struck it. The wood +collapsed and the dazed land agent found himself sitting on the floor. + +"I'll get yuh for this, blast yuh!" gasped the major, his bloated face +red with rage. "Yo're goin' to get yores, d'ye hear! I've got power +here, and yore life ain't worth a cent!" + +"It's not in the mahket, eithah," the Texan drawled, as he strolled +toward the door. At the threshold he paused. + +"Yo've had yo' say, majah," he snapped, "and now I'll have mine. If I +find that yo' are in any way responsible fo' the tragedies that have +ovahtaken 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 front +of the stranger, placing, with an added flourish, a thick-bottomed +whisky glass beside it. This done, he examined the newcomer with an +attentive eye, pretending to polish the bar while doing so. + +The man he observed was enough to attract any one's notice, even in the +cosmopolitan cow town of San Felipe. Kid Wolf was worth a second +glance always. The bartender saw a lean-waisted, broad-shouldered +young man whose face was tanned so dark as to belie his rather long +light hair. He wore a beautiful shirt of fringed buckskin, and his +boots were embellished with the Lone Star of Texas, done in silver. +Two single-action Colts of the old pattern swung low from his beaded +belt. + +"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 whisky +glass, still level full of the amber liquor. "I was just wonderin' why +yuh didn't down it." + +"Oh, yes," said Kid Wolf again. He picked up the glass between thumb +and forefinger and deliberately emptied it into a handy cuspidor. "I +leave that stuff to mah enemies," he said, smiling. "By the way, can +yo' tell me where I can find a Mistah Mullhall, a Mistah Anton, a +Mistah Lathum, a Mistah Wise, and a Mistah Steve Stacy?" + +When the bartender could recover himself, he pointed out a table near +the 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 the +gambling table. + +The La Plata Saloon was fairly well patronized, even though it lacked +several hours until nightfall. Kid Wolf had taken the measure of the +loiterers at a glance. Most of them were desperadoes. "Outlaw" was +written over their hard faces, and he wondered if Ma Thomas hadn't been +right about the county's general lawlessness. San Felipe seemed to be +well supplied with gunmen. + +The three men at the table, although they were "heeled" with .45s, were +of a different type. They were cowmen first, gunmen afterward. Two +were in their twenties; the other was older. + +"I beg yo' pahdon, caballeros," said The Kid softly, as he came up +behind 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 prevented +questions just then. The trio faced about in surprise. Plainly, they +did not know whether to take Kid Wolf for a friend or for a foe. Like +true 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 dozen +bottles, likewise empty, was thrown open to them. + +"Have chairs, gentlemen," The Kid invited, as he carefully closed the +door. + +The trio took chairs about the table, looking questioningly at the +stranger. The oldest of them picked up a deck of cards and began to +shuffle 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'll +listen, 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 a +searching 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 this +is 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 cow +hand, 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 the +table so quickly and so quietly that none of them had seen his arms +move. + +"Now, I hope," murmured The Kid, "that yo' rather listen to me talk +than 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--would +even 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 a +defiant look. + +"Boys, play square with me and yo' won't be sorry," Kid Wolf told them +earnestly. "I know that all these things happened after yo' left. +Since then, cattle have been rustled and Mr. Thomas has been +murdahed--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 boys +whose 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 left +gulped. + +"Well," he blurted, "we was only gettin' forty-five, and when Stover +offered to double it, and with nothin' to do but lie around, why, +we----" + +"Things are changed now," said The Kid gently. "Ma Thomas is alone +now." + +"That's right," said the oldest awkwardly. "I suppose we ought to----" + +"Ought to!" repeated one of the others, jumping to his feet. "By +George, 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 a +handful of gold pieces from his pocket and placed them on the table in +a little pile. "This is all I have, but Mrs. Thomas isn't in a +position to pay right now, so heah is yo' first month's wages in +advance." + +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 The +Kid. + +"We ain't takin' it," he mumbled. "Don't get us wrong, partner. We +ain't thet kind. We never would've quit the S Bar if it hadn't been +for Steve Stacy--the foreman. And, of course, things was goin' all +right 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 three +was Anton. Wise was the bow-legged one, and Lathum was freckled and +tall. + +"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's +Mullhall. Neither of 'em will listen--and they'll make trouble when +they find we're goin' back." + +"If yo'-all feel the same way as I do," Kid Wolf drawled as they filed +out of the back room, "they won't have to make trouble. It'll be theah +fo' '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 party +emerge from the back room, they pushed away from the bar and came +directly toward Kid Wolf, who was walking in the lead. + +"Steve Stacy's the hombre in front," Wise whispered. "Be on yore +guard." + +The Kid knew the ex-foreman's type even before he spoke. He was the +loud-mouthed and overbearing kind of waddy--a gunman first and a cowman +afterward. 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. The +two 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 the +pay roll again." + +It was putting up the issue squarely, with no hedging. Both Stacy and +Mullhall darkened with fury. + +"What's yore little game? I guess it's about time to put an extra +spoke 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 right +now, and if yo' men don't want to be friends, I'll be right glad to +have yo' fo' enemies!" + +Mullhall had pressed very close. It was as if the whole thing had been +prearranged. His hands suddenly shot out and seized Kid Wolf's +arms--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 worked +together 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 be +victimized by such a threadbare ruse. He was too fast, too strong. He +whirled Mullhall about, his left boot went behind Mullhall's legs. +With all his force he threw his weight against him, tearing his arms +free. + +Mullhall went backward like a catapult, directly at Stacy. The gun +exploded in the air, and as the slug buzzed into the roof, both +Mullhall and the exforeman went down like bags of meal--a tangled maze +of legs and arms. + +"Get up," The Kid drawled. "And get out!" + +Kid Wolf had not bothered to draw his guns, but Anton, Wise, and Lathum +had reached for theirs, and they had the angry pair covered. Stacy +changed his mind about whirling his gun on his forefinger as he +recovered it, and sullenly shoved it into its holster. + +"We'll get yuh!" snarled Stacy, his furious eyes boring into The Kid's +cool 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. But +in the meantime--vamose pronto!" + +Swearing angrily, the two men obeyed. It seemed the healthiest thing +to do just then. They slunk out like whipped curs, but The Kid knew +their 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 its +defects. His tenor rose to the canyon walls, rich and musical. + +"Our cake's plumb liable to be overspiced with trouble," Frank Lathum +said with a laugh. + +Kid Wolf, with his three newly hired riders, were well on their way to +the S Bar. His companions knew of a short route that would take them +directly to the Thomas hacienda, and they were following a steep-walled +canyon 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 the +direction of San Felipe. The rider was astride a fast-pacing Indian +pony and overhauling them rapidly. Since leaving the town, Kid Wolf's +party had been in no hurry, and this had enabled the rider to overtake +them. + +"It's Goliday," muttered Anton, shading his weather-beaten eyes with a +brown 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 has +to say." + +Accordingly, the four men drew up to a halt and wheeled about to face +the oncoming ranchman. They could see him raising his hand in a signal +for them to halt. He came up in a cloud of dust, checked his pony, and +surveyed 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 a +black coat and vest over a light-gray shirt. Beneath the former peeped +the ivory handle of a .45. + +"Hello," panted the newcomer. "Are you the hombre that caused all the +stir 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 want +the S Bar. Is it true yo're goin' there to run the place for the old +woman?" + +"It is," The Kid told him. + +"I'll pay yuh well to let the place alone," offered Goliday after a +pause. "I'll give five thousand cash for the ranch, and if the deal +goes through, why I'm willin' to ante up another thousand to split +between you four. + +"I'm a generous man, and it'll pay to have me for a friend. Savvy? As +an enemy I won't be so good. Now, Mr. Wolf, if that's yore name, just +advise 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 and +drew 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, and +they 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 sun +glittered on them as they went up. Then, with his other hand, The Kid +drew 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 gold +flew off on a tangent. _Br-r-rang, cling! Br-r-rang, ting!_ There +were six coins, and The Kid fired six times. He never missed one! He +picked the last one out of the air, three feet from the ground. + +Goliday watched this exhibition of uncanny target practice with bulging +eyes. As the echoes of the last shot died away, he turned on The Kid +with 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. The +Texan had pulled his other revolver with the bewildering speed of a +magician. 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's +only one law in this country, and that's six-gun law--yuh'll feel it +within forty-eight hours!" + +"Is that so?" said The Kid contemptuously. "I have a couple of lawyahs +heah that can talk as fast as any in San Felipe County. The S Bar +accepts yo' challenge. Come on, boys. Let's don't waste any mo' time +with this." + +Grinning, the quartet struck out again westward, leaving the +disgruntled ranchman behind. The last they saw of him, he was kicking +about in the mesquite, looking for his gold. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +DESPERATE MEASURES + +Nightfall found the quartet established in the S Bar bunk house. The +joyful thanks of Ma Thomas was enough reward for any of them. She +hadn't expected to see Kid Wolf again, she said, and to have him return +with help was a wonderful surprise. + +She was a woman transformed and had taken new heart and courage. The +supper she prepared for them, according to Kid Wolf, was the best he +had eaten since he had left Texas. + +All four of them were exceedingly hungry, and they made short work of +Ma Thomas' enchiladas, crisp chicken _tacos_, peppers stuffed, and her +marvelous _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, and +had finished their sad task of burying Thomas, victim of an assassin's +bullet. + +The Kid obtained the bullet that had taken the old rancher's life. It +was 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 said +the 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 twenty +thousand." + +"The robbers!" muttered Kid Wolf. + +"What's on the program?" asked Frank Lathum. "We can't do much +ranchin' 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've +once been driven in?" Anton growled. "It can't be done!" + +"Money in cattle can't be hid like money in jewels or cash," said The +Kid. "Theah not so easy to get rid of, even in Mexico. The town of +Mariposa lies just over the bordah, am I right? And the only good +cattle lands for a hundred miles are just south of theah, isn't that +so?" + +"Yes, but----" + +"Men, this is a time fo' desperate measures. We must stake all on one +turn of the cards. Boldness might win. I want yo' hombres to be in +Mariposa the day _pasado_ manana." + +"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 go +along. 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 the +next day, some way or anothah." + +Bold was the word! The quartet talked until a late hour. The three +riders 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 was +practically run out o' San Felipe. He's no _bueno_." + +Kid Wolf learned that the son--Harry Thomas--had nearly broken his +parents' hearts. He had become wild years before, and was now nothing +more 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 I +don't know how a woman like Ma Thomas could have such a worthless rake +fer a son. He was a queer-lookin' hombre--one brown eye and one black +eye." + +"Ma loves him, though. Yuh can tell thet," put in Lathum. + +"Oh, yes," pointed out Anton soberly. "Mothers always do. Great +things, these mothers." + +He blew his nose violently on his red bandanna, and shortly afterward +went to bed. Soon all four were in the bunks, resting for the hard +work that awaited them on the morrow--manana--and many days after +manana. + +Kid Wolf was up very early the next morning, and saddled Blizzard after +a hasty breakfast. He had much to do. + +The three S Bar men went part way with him--to a point beyond the south +corral. It was here that Mrs. Thomas had found the body of her +murdered husband. There seemed to be no clew as to who had performed +the deliberate killing. Before The Kid left, however, he did a little +scouting around. In the sand behind a mesquite, fifty yards from the +spot 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 pair +of boots. In a country where high-heeled riding footgear was the +thing, such boots as these were seldom seen. All three admitted that +they had seen such boots somewhere, but, although they racked their +brains, they were unable to say just who had worn them. + +"Well, take a good look at them," drawled The Kid. "I want yo' to be +witnesses to the find. Some day this info'mation might be of use. In +the meantime, adios, boys!" + +"Good luck!" they shouted after him. "We'll be on hand at Mariposa +manana 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 of +sand just south of the Rio Grande. It was an older city than San +Felipe, and its buildings were more elaborate. + +One in particular, just off the Plaza, attracted the eye of Spanish +ranchman and peon alike. It was the meeting place of the thirsty--the +famed El Chihuahense, a saloon and gambling house known from El Paso to +California. + +Built of brown adobe originally, it had been painted a bright red. The +carved stone with which it was trimmed shone in white contrast to the +vivid walls. An archway was the entrance to the establishment and many +a bullet hole within its shadow testified to the dark deeds that had +happened there. + +Now, as on every night, the place was ablaze with light. Big oil lamps +by the score, backed by polished reflectors, illumined the interior. +From within came the strains of guitars and the gay scrapings of a +fiddle, mingled with the hum of Spanish voices, an occasional oath in +English, 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 it +for two solid hours. Those who knew The Kid better would have wondered +at this. Ordinarily, Kid Wolf was not a gamester. He played cards +rarely, never for any personal gain, and only when there seemed to be a +good reason for so doing. But the Texan knew the game. + +A trio of Mexican landowners who thought they were skilled at it had +quickly found out their error--and withdrew, more or less gracefully. +Now a crowd of swarthy-faced men, numbering more than a score, were +massed around the draw-poker table near the door. They were watching +the masterful play of this slow-drawling hombre--this gringo stranger +who had been seen about Mariposa all day, and who now was "bucking +heads" with a lone antagonist. + +Kid Wolf's opponent was also an American, but one well known to the +Mariposans. A stack of gold coins was piled in front of him, and he +riffled the cards as he dealt in the manner of a professional. This +man was young, also. He wore a green eye shade, and a diamond +glittered in his fancy shirt. He was a gambler. + +The game seesawed for a time. First Kid Wolf would make a small +winning, 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 gasp +with envy. + +But the crisis was coming. The deal passed from the gambler to The Kid +and back to the gambler again. The pot was already swollen from the +antes. The Kid opened. + +"I'm stayin'," said the gambler crisply. He pushed in a small pile of +gold. "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 their +faces twitched. The gambler's face was frozen--as expressionless as an +Indian's. Kid Wolf was his easy self. His usual smile was very much +in evidence, unchanged. He made a bet--a large one, and the gambler +called and raised heavily. The Kid boosted it again. Then there was a +silence, broken only by the tense breathing of the onlookers, who had +pushed 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 the +center of the table. + +The gambler's hand shook the merest trifle. Again he looked at the +pasteboards in his pale hands. Then he quickly pushed every cent he +had into the pot. + +"I'm seeing it, and I'm elevatin' it every coin on me. It'll cost +yuh--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 take +out 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 his +right hand. And it had been done so quickly that the onlookers +exchanged 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. When +finished, 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 hands +were 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 game +with 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 toward +him. + +"Better look at the I O U," The Kid drawled, "and see that it's all +right and proper." As he spoke, he tossed his cards carelessly toward +the gambler, face down. + +The youth in the green eye shade unfolded the paper and looked at the +writing 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 me +in 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 the +astonishment out of his eyes. Slowly and furtively he looked at the +cards Kid Wolf had tossed away so carelessly. The Texan had held four +aces! + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +AT DON FLORISTO'S + +In the moonlight, behind the El Chihuahense Saloon, Kid Wolf and the +gambler met. The latter found The Kid leaning silently against a +ruined adobe wall in the deserted alleyway. The sound of the music +from within the gambling hall could be heard faintly. There was a +silence after the two men faced each other. Harry Thomas finally broke +it: + +"How did yuh know me? I go by the name of Phil Hall here. And who are +yuh?" + +"Just call me The Kid," was the soft answer. "I knew yo' by yo' one +brown 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 and +remorse. His voice trembled when he spoke: + +"I've been a fool," he blurted, "worse than a fool. Poor mother! What +can I do now?" + +"It isn't too late to help her," The Kid told him kindly. "Yo' mothah +needs yo' badly. Findin' those stolen cattle wasn't so hahd, aftah +all. Theah on Don Floristo's ranch just below heah. I've talked to +the don, and let the remahk drop that I'm interested in cattle. So I +am, but the don doesn't know in what way. He thinks I'm a rich gringo +wantin' to buy some." + +"Kid, I've learned my lesson. I'll never gamble again," said Harry +earnestly. + +Kid Wolf took his hand warmly. + +"Don Floristo has already given orders that the six hundred head of S +Bar steers are to be driven to Mariposa to-night. I am to ride south +to his ranch and close the deal. Early manana the three loyal S Bar +men will seize the cattle and drive them home. Yo' and I must help." + +"Yo're riskin' yore life for strangers, Kid. Floristo is a +dyed-in-the-wool villain. If he suspects anything, he'll cut yore +throat. But I'm with yuh! Yuh've brought me to myself. I didn't +suppose they made hombres like you!" + +"Thanks, Harry. Now listen carefully and I'll tell yo' exactly what to +do." + +For a few minutes The Kid talked earnestly to young Thomas, outlining +their night's work. Then Kid Wolf took leave of the young +man--slipping back through the shadows to the street again. + +Harry Thomas walked quickly to the Establo--Mariposa's biggest livery +stable. Kid Wolf mounted his horse Blizzard. He struck off through +the 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 part +bore doubtful brands. Don Floristo's reputation was not of the best. +His rancho was suspected of being a mere trading ground for stolen +herds. Rustlers from both sides of the line made his land their +objective. + +Kid Wolf had found the S Bar cattle easily enough. The brands had been +gone over, being burned to an 8 Bar J. The work had been done so +recently, however, that he was not deceived. He had called on the don +and told him that he was "interested in cattle," which was true. The +don's lust for gold had done the rest. He supposed that Kid Wolf was +an American who desired to go into the ranching business near the +boundary. A good chance to get rid of the "hot" herd of six hundred! + +"Just the size of herd the senor 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 were +delivered at Mariposa----" + +"Easy to say, but no harder to do, senor," was the don's eager reply. +"I will give orders now to have them driven there. Do you wish to buy +a ranch, senor? Or have you bought? Perhaps I could help." + +"Perhaps. But I want cattle right now. I have friends just no'th of +the bordah." + +The don had smiled cunningly. This fool gringo would have trouble with +those stolen cattle if he drove them back into the States. That, +however, was no concern of Floristo's. + +"Come back to-night, senor," he had begged. And now The Kid was on his +way to the don's hacienda. He had purposely timed his visit so that he +would reach Floristo's rancho at a late hour. Already it was after +midnight. + +Blizzard was unusually full of spirit. The slow pace to which The Kid +held him was hardly an outlet for his restless energy. + +"Steady, boy," The Kid whispered. "We're savin' our strength--they'll +be plenty of fast ridin' to do latah." + +The Kid could not resist the temptation to break into song. His soft +chant 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's +hacienda. + +A dark-faced peon on guard outside, armed with a carbine, opened the +door for him. Late as the hour was, lights were shining inside and he +heard the welcoming sound of Don Floristo's voice as he passed through +the entrance. + +"Ah, come in, come in, amigo. I was afraid the senor was not coming. +_Como esta usted?_" + +"_Buenas noches_," returned The Kid, with easy politeness. "I trust +yo' are in good health?" + +The conversation after that was entirely in Spanish, as Kid Wolf spoke +the language like a native. His Southern accent made the Mexican +tongue all the more musical. He followed his host into a rather large, +square room with a beautifully tiled floor. The don motioned The Kid +to a chair. + +"The cattle of which we--ah--spoke, senor," said the don, as he lighted +a long brown cigarette. "They are on the way to Mariposa. Are +probably 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 will +not turn over the herd, of course, until"--he paused +significantly--"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 smiling +mask. The show-down had come. There was a long pause. The Kid's arms +were 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 to +draw the jeweled revolver that hung at his hip. He sneered as he spoke: + +"You will never escape from here alive, my friend," he leered. "What +you 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, now +opened. Framed in the doorway was the bloated, fat figure of Major +Stover. In his hand was a derringer. Its twin black muzzles were +leveled at Kiel Wolf's heart. + +The major's face twisted into an exulting grin as his piglike eyes fell +on Kid Wolf. + +"We meet again," he grated. + +"You see, Senor Keed Wolf," said Don Floristo, "that we have you. By +accident, Senor Wolf, your plans miscarried. Thinking I could sell you +a ranch, as you were buying cattle, I sent a rider _al instante_ for my +friend, the Major Stover. He came at once, and when I described +you----" He laughed harshly. + +The Don removed The Kid's revolvers and threw them on the table. The +major's derringer did not waver. + +"I see that yo' have prepared quite a surprise pahty fo' me," said The +Kid calmly. "Remember that theah are all sorts of surprises. I didn't +have 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'--this +persecution against Mrs. Thomas' ranch!" Kid Wolf snapped. + +"What good is it to know?" asked Stover, laughing. "Yo're goin' to +die!" + +"Shoot him, major," said the don, baring his white teeth. + +"There's no hurry," replied the major. "I want to see him pray for +mercy first. I've got a score to settle with him." + +The Kid remained unmoved in the presence of this peril. He was still +smiling. + +"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, Senor Wolf! The Wolf is in a bad +way. 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 a +deadly one, remained to him. He used it now! + +Major Stover did not know how it happened. Kid Wolf's arms were +lifted. Apparently he was helpless. But suddenly there was a swish--a +lightning-like gleam of light. Something hit Stover's gun arm like a +thunder smash. + +Kid Wolf has used his "ace in the hole"--had hurled the bowie knife +hidden in a sheath sewn inside the back of his shirt collar. + +The major's hand went suddenly numb. He dropped the derringer. The +blade had thudded into his forearm and sliced deeply upward. Dazed, he +emitted a wild cry. + +The don was not slow to act. He did not know exactly what had +happened, but he saw the major's gun fall and heard his frightened +yell. Floristo reached hastily for his jewel-studded revolver. + +But the Texan had closed in on him. Kid Wolf hit him full in the face +and Floristo went sprawling down. He was still jerking at his gun butt +as he hit the floor. + +The major had recovered somewhat. With his left hand he scooped up the +derringer and swung it up desperately to line the barrel on Kid Wolf's +heart. + +"All right, Harry!" sang out The Kid. + +Glass flew out of the window at the south wall and clattered to the +tiled floor as an arm, holding a leveled .45, broke through. It was +young Thomas. + +"Put 'em up!" he cried. + +Don Floristo, however, had also raised his gun. A report shook the +adobe walls and sent a puff of blue fumes ceilingward. But Harry +Thomas had fired first. Floristo collapsed with a moan, rolled over +and 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 holsters +and then reached out and seized Major Stover by the collar. He shook +him like a rat as he jerked him to his feet. + +"Well, majah, as yo' calls yo'self," he drawled, "looks like the +surprise worked the othah way round!" + +Stover's flabby face was blue-gray. His knees gave way under him and +his coarse lips were twitching. His eyes rolled wildly. + +"Don't kill me," he wheezed in an agony of fright. "It wasn't my +fault. I--I--Goliday made me do it. He's the man behind me. D-don't +kill--me." + +Suddenly his head rolled to one side and his bulky body wilted. He +sagged to the floor with a hiccupping sound. + +"Get up!" snapped the Texan. + +There was no response. The Kid felt of Stover's heart and straightened +up 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 body +through the window and slipped into the room. + +"His guilty conscience killed him," explained the Texan. "Yo' saved my +life, son, by throwin' down on Don Floristo. Yo' got him between the +shirt buttons." + +"I wanted to shoot long before," said Harry, "but I remembered--and +waited 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 get +posted. I suspected treachery of some kind to-night. But it was a +surprise 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 we +can turn the trick." + +"Then let's go, Kid!" + +Five minutes later the two were pounding the trail northward toward the +Rio Grande! + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +GOLIDAY'S CHOICE + +The east was streaked with pink and orange when The Kid and Harry +Thomas rode into the sleeping town of Mariposa. The little Mexican +city, they discovered, however, was not entirely asleep. + +At the northern edge of the city, on the stretch of sand between the +huddled 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 of +an arroyo just out of sight of Mariposa. Near it was the herd of six +hundred steers, some down and resting, others milling restlessly about +under 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 smoking +embers. They were not Americans. The two grinning newcomers saw that, +even before they made out their swarthy faces. The prisoners wore the +dirty 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 man +turned. It was just light enough to make out his features. It was +Anton. + +"By golly, Kid," he yelped out. "Yo're here at last! We'd about give +yuh up!" + +"I see that yo' didn't wait fo' me," returned the Texan, smiling. + +Wise and Lathum, seeing their visitors, spurred their mounts toward +them. They greeted him with an exulting yell. + +"We turned the trick!" Wise exclaimed. "Not a shot fired. Did it +hours ago." + +"Yuh see, Kid," said Anton, "we just naturally got so impatient and +nervous waitin' that we couldn't stand it any longer. O' course, it +was contrary to yore plans, maybe, but we saw the S Bar steers, stood +it 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 to +do." + +"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, I +know. 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 for +him. + +"I'm through as a gambler," said Harry. "Boys, will yuh take me for a +friend?" + +"Well, I should say we will!" Lathum cried, and all three shook his +hand 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 any +pursuit. Don Floristo isn't in any position to ordah it. I'll see +yo'-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 of +low-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 hard +hombres workin' for him, and----" + +"Please leave this to me," begged The Kid. "Yo' duty is heah with +these cattle. All mah life I've made it mah duty to right wrongs--and +not only that, but to put the wrongdoers wheah they can't commit any +mo' wrongs. Goliday is the mastah mind in all this trouble. Is theah +a sho't cut to his ranch?" + +Anton knew the trails of the district like a memorized map, and he gave +The Kid detailed instructions. By following the mountain chain to the +westward he would reach a dry wash that would lead him to a point +within sight of Goliday's hacienda. + +"Still set on it?" + +The Kid nodded. "Adios! Yuh'll probably get through to the S Bar in +good time. Good-by, Harry." + +"Good luck!" they shouted after him. + + +At the crest of a mesquite-dotted swell of white sand, several hours +later, 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 the +horses in the large corral and the cattle meandering about the water +hole. + +Was the entire ranch personnel in San Felipe? Impossible! And yet he +had 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 that +by following its course he could reach the trees about the water hole +unobserved. + +"Easy, Blizzahd," he said softly. + +The sand deadened the sound of the big white horse's hoofs as it took +the dry wash at a speedy clip. Kid Wolf crouched low, so that his body +would not show above the edge of the wash. At the water hole he drew +up in the shelter of a cottonwood to listen. His ears had caught a +succession of steady, measured sounds. They came from one of the small +adobe outbuildings. Inside, some one was hammering leather. This was +the ranch's saddle shop evidently. + +Very quietly The Kid dismounted. The saddle shop was not far away. He +strolled toward it, wading through the sand that reached nearly to his +ankles. He paused in the doorway, and the hammering sound suddenly +ceased. + +"_Buenos dias_," drawled the Texan. + +The man in the shop was Goliday! He had whirled about like a cat. The +hammer slipped from his right hand and dropped to the hard-packed earth +floor with a thud. + +Kid Wolf's eyes went from Goliday's dark, amazed face, with its shock +of black hair, down to his boots. They were low-heeled, square-toed +boots, embellished with scrolls done in red thread. The Kid's quiet +glance traveled again back to Goliday's startled countenance. Dismay +and fury were mingled there. Kid Wolf had made no movement toward his +guns. His hands were relaxed easily at his sides. He was smiling. + +Goliday's ivory-handled gun was in his pistol holster. His hand moved +a few inches toward it. Then it stopped. Goliday hesitated. Face to +face 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 solid +steel, "fo' the murdah of the ownah of the S Bar!" + +"Bah!" sneered Goliday, but a strange look crossed his dark eyes. His +legs 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 off +of 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 forced +laugh. + +"No?" The Kid drawled. "Well, that isn't all. The man who fired the +death shot used a very peculiah revolvah--very peculiar. The caliber +was .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 usual +six-shootah has six grooves and six lands. Let me see yo' gun, sah!" + +The command came like a whip-crack and little drops of perspiration +stood 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 died +early this mohnin' from heart trouble. Goliday, yo' can do just two +things. 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 the +nearest law, if it's a thousand miles away. Or--yo' can shoot it out +with 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-handled +Colt. + +The ranchman's hand touched the handle before Kid Wolf made even a move +toward his own weapons. Goliday's eager, fear-accelerated fingers +snapped the hammer back. The gun slid half out of its holster as he +tipped it up. + +There was a noise in the little adobe like a thunderclap! A red pencil +of 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 was +distorted. A long gasp came from his lips. A round dot had suddenly +appeared 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 .45 +and bent over and picked up Goliday's ivory-handled weapon. He smiled +grimly as he peered into the muzzle. A very peculiar gun! There were +five 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. He +realized what had happened. He was done for. Rapidly, as if afraid +that 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 to +go like this, Kid Wolf. I tell yuh I'm afraid!" His voice rose to a +shriek. "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 fallen +enemy such as Goliday. + +"Yes," Goliday groaned. "All my men aren't in town. I sent Steve +Stacy and Ed Mullhall--down to the S Bar--a little while ago--to do +away with Mrs. Thomas. Stop 'em! Stop 'em! I don't want to die with +this on my soul. I--I----" + +His words ended in a gurgling moan. His face twitched and then +relaxed. He was dead. + +His dying words had thrilled Kid Wolf with horror. Steve Stacy and Ed +Mullhall on their way to murder Ma Thomas! Perhaps they were at the S +Bar 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 the +saddle 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. There +was no time to hunt for one. Then, too, he must cut off as much as he +could. In that way, if the two killers followed a more or less winding +trail, he might overtake them. + +The country was rough and broken. And, worse still, Blizzard was +tired. He had been on the go for many hours. There was a limit even +to the creamy-white horse's superb strength. It seemed hopeless. +Southeast they tore at breakneck speed. Blizzard seemed to sense what +was required of him. He ran like mad, clamping down on the bit, his +muscles rippling under his glossy hide--a hide that was already flecked +with foam. + +"Go like yo' nevah went befo', Blizzahd boy," The Kid sobbed. + +Never had he been up against a plot so ruthless, a situation more +terrible. A lone woman, Ma Thomas, had been selected for the next +victim! + +As they pounded along, a thousand thoughts tortured the mind of The +Kid. 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 more +than anger. If he could only reach that S Bar in time! + +He rode over hills of sand, across stretches of soft, yielding sand +that slowed even Blizzard's furiously drumming hoofs, over treacherous +fields of lava rock, through cactus forests. Up and down he went, but +always on, and always heading southward toward the ranch. Very rarely +did The Kid use the spurs, but he used them now, roweling Blizzard +desperately. 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 any +rate. There was still hope. Again and again he raked Blizzard with +the spurs. The horse was living up to his name now, running like a +white snowstorm. Already the distance between Kid Wolf and the other +horsemen was lessened. But they had seen him! Before, they had been +riding 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, and +for a tired horse---- + +"Jump it, boy! Jump it!" + +Again Blizzard was raked with the spur. They were nearly at the arroyo +edge now. It was very deep. Would Blizzard take it, or refuse? + +Kid Wolf knew his horse. He already felt Blizzard rising madly in the +air. The danger now was in the fall. For if the horse failed to make +it, death would be the issue. Jagged rocks thirty feet below awaited +horse and rider if the leap failed. + +But Blizzard made it! He scrambled desperately on, the far edge for a +breathless moment while the soft sand caked and caved. The Kid threw +his weight forward. Safely across, Blizzard was off again, galloping +like 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 and +fell sprawling. The other rider kept on. + +The Kid did not fire any more, for he knew that he had been lucky +indeed, to get one of them at such a distance. He bent all his efforts +toward heading off the other. Already the S Bar hacienda was within +sight. There was no time to lose! + +As The Kid pounded past he saw the face of the man who had been struck +by the chance bullet. It was Mullhall. Stacy kept going. He was +urging his horse to top speed, bent upon reaching the ranch and getting +in his work before The Kid could catch him. + +Blizzard had reached his limit. His pace was faltering. Little by +little he began to lag behind. He was nearly spent. Only an expert +rider could have done what The Kid did then. Without slackening +Blizzard's speed, he slipped his saddle. With the reins in his teeth, +he worked loose the latigo and cinch, taking care not to trip the +speeding horse. Then he swung himself backward, freed the saddle and +blanket and hurled both sidewise. He was riding bareback now! + +Relieved of forty pounds of dead weight, Blizzard lengthened his stride +and took new courage. He was overhauling Stacy now yard by yard! + +Stacy turned in his saddle and emptied his gun at his pursuer--six +quick spats of smoke and six slugs of whining lead. All went wild, for +it 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 in +slowly. It was the riders with the recovered herd! But The Kid only +had 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 mercy +for Stacy than he would have had for a rattlesnake that had bitten a +friend. + +_Br-r-rang-bang! Spat-spat!_ Stacy, hit twice, still blazed away. A +bullet ripped through the Texan's sleeve. Again he fired. The +ex-foreman fell, part way. The stirrup caught his left foot as his +head 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 laden +with dishes--once full of delicious viands but now empty. The men, +five in all, had brought out their "makin's." Ma Thomas, bustling +about with more coffee and a wonderful dessert she had mysteriously +prepared, 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 to +the ends of five cigarettes. + +"Well," sighed Kid Wolf, "I hope Blizzahd has enjoyed his dinnah as +much as I've enjoyed mine. He deserves it!" + +"What a wonderful horse!" cried Ma Thomas. "And to think that if he +hadn'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 just +naturally a rollin' stone, always rollin' toward new adventures. I'm +sho' yo'-all are goin' to be very happy." + +"We owe it all to you!" Ma Thomas cried. "All of our good fortune. I +have the ranch and the cattle, and more wonderful than everything +else--my boy, Harry!" + +Kid Wolf looked embarrassed. "Please don't try and thank me," he +murmured. "It's just mah job--to keep an eye out fo' those in need of +help." + +"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's +yores, not mine!" + +"I did that," said The Kid, as he whispered back, "so yo' could buy Ma +a 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 by +placing 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 was +about 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 poetical +question, eyed the gruesome monument with a half smile. Bullet holes +marked it here and there, testifying that many a passer-by with more +marksmanship than respect had used it for a casual target. The empty +sockets seemed to glare spitefully, and the shattered upper jaw grinned +in mockery at the singer. It was as if the grisly relic had heard the +song and laughed. Kid Wolf's smile flashed white against the copper of +his face. Then his smile disappeared and his eyes, blue-gray, took on +frosty little glints. + +The Kid, after straightening out the troubled affairs of the Thomas +family, was heading northwest again. It was the age-old wanderlust +that 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 weighed +the veiled threat in the town's sign and found it grimly humorous +instead of sinister. + +The big white horse threw up its shapely head in a gesture of +impatience that was almost human. + +"All right, Blizzahd," approved its rider. "Into Skull, New Mexico, we +go!" + +Kid Wolf had heard something of Skull's reputation, and although it was +just accident that had turned him this way, he was filled with a mild +curiosity. The Texan never made trouble, but he was hardly the man to +avoid it if it crossed his path. + +As he neared the town, he was rather surprised at its size. The +budding cattle industry had boomed the surrounding country, and Skull +had grown like a mushroom. Lights were twinkling in the twilight from +a hundred windows, and as the newcomer passed the scattered adobes at +the edge of it, he could hear the _clip-clop_ of many horses, the sound +of men's voices, and mingled strains of music. The little city was +evidently 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 frame +and sod. Kid Wolf read the signs on them as the horse trotted +southward: + +"Bar. Tony's Place. Saloon. General merchandise. Saddle shop. Bar. +Saloon. Hotel and bar. Well, well, seems as if we have mo' than ouah +share o' saloons heah. This seems to be the biggest one. Shall we +stop heah, Blizzahd?" + +There seemed to be no choice in the matter. One could take his pick of +saloons, for nothing else was open at this hour. The sign over the +largest read, "The Longhorn Palace." + +Kid Wolf left Blizzard at the hitch rack and sauntered through the open +doors. A lively scene met his eyes. It interested and at the same +time disgusted The Kid. A long bar stretched from the front door to +the end of the building, and a dozen or more men leaned against it in +various stages of intoxication. In spite of the fact that the saloon +interior was well lighted by suspended oil lamps, the air was thick and +foul with liquor fumes and cigarette smoke. A half dozen gambling +tables, 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 these +ornaments, 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 the +stakes and then by the men gathered there. It was a stiff game, +opening bets sometimes being as much as fifty dollars. Apparently the +lid was off. + +The hangers-on in the Longhorn seemed to be of one type and resembled +professional gunmen more than they did cattlemen. The men at the poker +table looked like desperadoes, and one of them especially took The +Kid's observing eye. + +A huge-chested man in a checkered shirt was at the head of the table +and seemed to have the game well in hand, for his chip stacks were +high, and a pile of gold pieces lay behind them. His closely cropped +black beard could not conceal the cruelty of his flaring nostrils and +sensual mouth. He was overbearing and loud of speech, and his +menacing, insolent stare seemed to have every one cowed. + +Kid Wolf was a keen student of men. He had learned to read human +nature, and this gambler interested him as a thoroughly brutal specimen. + +"It'll cost yuh-all another hundred to stay and see this out," the +bearded man announced with a sneer. + +"I'm out," grunted one of the players. + +Another, with "more in sight" than the bearded gambler, turned over his +cards in disgust, and with a chuckle of joy, the first speaker dragged +in the pot and added the chips to his mounting stacks. He seemed to +have the others buffaloed. + +The card players had been absorbed in their game until now. But as the +new 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' the +two. 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 the +mistake of thinking the stranger in awe of him. Many a man before him +had 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 this +game's too stiff fer yuh," he said. + +The expression of the Texan's face did not change, but curious little +flecks 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 the +players had united to fleece the newcomer, with the bearded desperado +leading the attack. + +At first, Kid Wolf lost, and the gambler--called "Blacksnake" McCoy by +the other men--added to his chip stacks. Then the game seesawed, after +which the Texan began to win small bets steadily. But the crisis was +coming. Sooner or later, Blacksnake would try to run Kid Wolf out, and +the Texan knew it. + +The size of the bets increased, and a little crowd began to gather +about the stud table. In spite of the fact that Blacksnake was a +swaggering, abusive-mouthed fellow, the sympathies of the Longhorn +loafers seemed to be with him. + +He seemed to be a sort of leader among them, and a group of sullen-eyed +gunmen 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 time +for big action had come. The pot was already large, and all had +dropped out except Blacksnake and the drawling stranger. + +"I'm raisin' yuh five hundred, 'Cotton-picker,'" sneered the bearded +man insolently. + +He had a pair of aces in sight--a formidable hand--and if his hole card +was also an ace, Kid Wolf had not a chance in the world. The best the +Texan could show up was a pair of treys. + +"My name, sah," said Kid Wolf politely, "is not Cotton-pickah, although +that 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 me +by mah last name. I'm seein' yo' bet and raisin' yo' another five +hundred, sah." + +At the name "Kid Wolf," a stir was felt in the crowded saloon. It was +a name many of them had heard before, and most of the loungers began to +look upon the stranger with more respect. Others frowned darkly. +Blacksnake was one of them. Plainly, what he had heard of The Kid did +not 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. He +only smiled gently. + +"We're playin' pokah now, I believe," he reminded. "Are yuh seein' mah +bet?" + +"That's right, bet 'em like yuh had 'em. And I hope yore hole card's +another three-spot, for that'll make it easy for my buried ace. I'm +seein' yuh and boostin' it--for yore pile!" + +Quietly The Kid swept all his chips into the center of the table. He +had called, and it was a show-down. With an oath, Blacksnake got half +to his feet. He turned his hole card over. It was a nine-spot, but he +had 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. He +had 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 away +faster than it had gone for it. Guns had appeared suddenly in the +Texan's two hands. His draw had been so swift that nobody had caught +the 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' it +right out. The aces in that deck were marked in the cornahs with +thumb-nail scratches. It might have gone hahd with me, if I hadn't +mahked the othah cahds too--with thumb-nail scratches!" + +"Yuh admit yuh marked them cards?" yelled Blacksnake in fury. "What +about it, men? He's a cheat and ought to be strung up!" + +Most of the onlookers were doing their best to conceal grins, and even +Blacksnake's sympathizers made no move to do anything. Perhaps The +Kid'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. But +when I saw that this game was not a gamble, but just a cool robbery, I +sat in." + +He holstered one of his guns and swooped up the pile of money from the +center of the table. This cleaned it, save for one pile of chips in +front 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-colored +fire and a puff of smoke. The top chip of Blacksnake's stack suddenly +had disappeared, neatly clipped off by The Kid's bullet. And the Texan +had shot casually from the hip, apparently without taking aim! + +Kid Wolf returned his still-smoking gun to its holster, turned his back +and sauntered leisurely toward the door. Halfway to it, he turned +quickly. He did not draw his guns again, but only looked Blacksnake +steadily 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, toward +which it had been furtively traveling. He had forgotten about the +bullet-scarred glass over the long bar. + +As the Texan strolled through the door, a man who had been watching the +scene 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 jostled +the speaker, apparently by accident. + +"Excuse me," drawled the Texan. "I didn't know yo' were so close +behind me." + +"I'm a friend," said the other earnestly. "Let's walk down the street +a way. I've something important to say--something that might interest +yuh." + +The Kid had appraised him at a glance, although this stranger was far +from being an ordinary person either in face or dress. His garb was +severe and clerical. He wore a long black coat, black trousers neatly +tucked into boots, a white shirt, and a flowing dark tie. Yet he was +not of the gambler type. He seemed to be unarmed, for he had no gun +belt. His face, seen from the reflected lights of the saloon, was +clean-shaven. His eyes seemed set too close together, and the lips +were 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 had +arrived that evening, he said, and he wasn't sure how long he would +remain in the vicinity. + +"How would yuh like," tempted the man who had styled himself Gentleman +John, "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 laughed +coldly. "Maybe I should tell yuh somethin' about myself. They call me +the 'Cattle King of New Mexico.' The man yuh bucked in the poker +game--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 got +ranches, cattle. I've managed to do well. I need gunmen--men who can +shoot fast and obey orders. I can see that yo're a better man than +Blacksnake. I'm payin' him fifty a day. Take his job, and yuh'll get +a hundred." + +Kid Wolf did not seem in the least enthusiastic, and the man in black +went on eagerly: + +"Yuh won a couple o' thousand to-night, Kid. But that won't last +forever. Think what a hundred in gold a day means. And all yuh have +to do is ter----" + +"Murdah!" snapped the Texan. "Yo've mistaken yo' man, sah. Mah answah +is 'no'! I'm not a hired killah, and the man who tries to hire me had +bettah beware. Why, yo're nothin' but a cheap cutthroat!" + +The cold eyes of the other suddenly blazed. He made a quick motion +toward his waistcoat with his thin hand. + +Kid Wolf laughed quietly. "Heah's yo' gun, sah," he said, handing the +astonished Gentleman John a small, ugly derringer. "When I bumped into +yo' in the doorway, I took the liberty to remove it. I nevah trust an +hombre with eyes like yo's. Nevah mind tryin' to use it, fo' I've +unloaded it." + +The face of the man in black was white with fury. His gimlet eyes had +narrowed to slits, and his mouth was distorted with rage. It was the +face of a killer--a murderer without conscience or pity. + +"I'll get yuh for this, Wolf!" he bellowed. "Yuh'll find out how +strong I am here. This country isn't big enough to hold us both, blast +yuh! When our trails meet again, take care!" + +The Kid raised one eyebrow. "I always do take care," he drawled. "And +while I'm heah in Skull County, yo'd bettah keep yo' dirty work undah +covah. Adios!" + +And humming musically under his breath, The Kid strolled toward the +hitch 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 the +vicinity. The Spanish fathers had built it for the Indians, and it +remained a sanctuary, in spite of the roughness and badness of the new +cow town. + +Early on the morning after Kid Wolf's arrival in the town, the old +padre was astonished to find a package of money inside his door. It +was addressed simply: "For the poor." It was a windfall and a +much-needed addition to the mission's meager finances. + +The padre considered it a gift from Heaven, and where it had come from +remained a mystery. The package contained two thousand dollars. +Needless to say, it was Kid Wolf's gift, and the money had been taken +from the town's dishonest gamblers. + +The Texan remained several days in Skull. He was in no hurry, and the +town interested him. Although he heard threats, he was left alone. He +saw no more of Gentleman John, nor did he see Blacksnake McCoy. They +had disappeared from town, probably on evil business of their own. + +A note thrust under The Kid's door at the hotel two mornings later +threatened 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 cattle +situation. The honest cattlemen, he found, were very much in the +minority. By force, murder, and illegal methods, Gentleman John had +obtained most of the land and practically all of the vast cattle herds +that roamed the rich rangelands surrounding the town on all sides. Yet +to most of the honest element, Gentleman John's true colors were not +known. He shielded himself, hiring others to do his unclean work. +There was no law as yet in the county. Gentleman John had managed to +keep it out. And even if there had been, it was doubtful if his crimes +could be pinned to him, for he had covered his tracks well. Many +thought him honest. Only The Kid's keen mind could sense almost +immediately what was going on. + +The country stretching out from Skull was wild and beautiful. It was +an unsettled land, and the trails that led into it were faint and +difficult to follow. + +One morning, Kid Wolf saddled Blizzard and rode into the southwest +toward the purple mountains tipped with snow. It was a beautiful day, +cool and crisp. The tang of the air in that high altitude was sharp +and invigorating. The big white horse swung into a joyous lope, and +the Texan hummed a Southern melody. + +Crossing a wide stretch of plain, they mounted a rise, and the +character of the country changed. The smell of sage gave way to the +penetrating odor of small pine, as they climbed into the broken +foothills that led, in a series of steps, toward the jagged peaks. +Splashing through a little creek of pure, cold water, The Kid turned +Blizzard's head up a pass between two ridges of pinon-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 with +keen eyes that missed nothing. Suddenly he drew up his horse. +Blizzard had shied at something lying prone ahead of them, and The +Kid's eyes had seen it at the same instant. + +Stretched out on the sandy ground, The Kid saw, when he urged his horse +closer, was the body of a man, face down and arms flung out. A blotch +of red on the blue of the shirt told the significant story--a bullet +had got in its deadly work. Dismounting, the Texan found that the man +was 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 a +deepah-dyed villain than we even thought." + +He continued on up the pass, eyes and ears open. The white horse took +the climb as if it had been level ground, his hoofs ringing a brisk +tattoo against the stones. + +Nobody was in sight. The land stretched out on all sides--a vast +lonesomeness of rolling green and red, broken here and there by +towering rocks, grotesque in shape and twisted by erosion into a +thousand fanciful sculptures. But at the bottom of a dry wash, Kid +Wolf received a surprise. + +_Br-r-reee! Ping!_ A bullet breezed by his head, droning like a +hornet, and glanced sullenly against a flat rock. Immediately +afterward, The Kid heard the sharp bark of a .45. He knew by the sound +of the bullet and by the elapsed time between it and the sound of the +gun that he was within dangerous range. Crouching low in his saddle, +he wheeled Blizzard--already turned half around in mid-air--and cut up +the arroyo at a hot gallop. + +Flinging himself from his horse when he reached shelter, he touched +Blizzard lightly on the neck. The wise animal knew what that meant. +Without slackening its pace, it continued onward, its hoofs drumming a +rapid _clip-clop_, while its master was running in another direction +with his head low. + +Breaking up the ambush was easy. The Kid took advantage of every bit +of cover and went directly toward the sounds of the shots, for guns +were still barking. The men, whoever they were, were shooting in the +direction of the riderless horse. Squirming through a little pinon +thicket, Kid Wolf saw three men stationed behind a low ledge of red +sandstone. 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 deadly +black muzzles of The Kid's twin six-shooters. Automatically they +thrust 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 frank +and open. Then the Texan's eyes traveled to the youth's two +companions. Both were older men, typical cow-punchers, rough and +ready, and yet hardly of the same type of the men The Kid had noticed +in 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. "Yuh +know 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 The +Kid 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 thought +yo' were Blacksnake and his gang myself." He reholstered his guns. +"Put yo' hands down," he said, as he came toward them, "and we'll talk +this thing ovah." + +Reassured, the trio did so with sighs of relief. A few questions by +each helped to clear things up. The Kid told them who he was, and in +return 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 shore +been 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 only +punchers 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 of +all the longhorns on the Diamond D!" Red's lips tightened grimly. + +"Excuse us," spoke up one of the cowboys, Lefty Warren, "for takin' yuh +fer one o' them cutthroats, but we was b'ilin' mad. It's a good thing +fer 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 Blacksnake +got away with the herd," groaned the red-haired youth. "Reckon we'll +have 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 my +brother 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 biggest +cattlemen 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 we +intend to stop at the sod house and tell my brother, Joe, what's +happened--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 Warren +spoke up. "The odds are mighty bad against us, but they got one o' the +best punchers in the valley when they drilled Sam Whiteman." + +"I'm interested," Kid Wolf told them. "Do yo' mind if I throw in with +yo'?" + +"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' troubles +mine, 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, following +the trail left by the stolen beef herd. The four quickly became +friends. Kid Wolf liked them all from the first, and the Diamond D men +were overjoyed to have him enlisted in their cause. He learned that +Red Morton and his older brother, Joe, had worked hard to make the +Diamond D a success. The ranch had been left them by their father a +few years before, heavily burdened with debt. Now, until the +catastrophe of the day before, they were at the point of clearing it. +Evidently the brothers did not know of Gentleman John's criminal +methods, 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, but +he wouldn't. I'm not quite twenty-one, but I'm a man, and Joe knows +it." + +"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. Eight +hundred head." + +After a time, they swung off the trail they had been following, in +order to reach the sod house. Here Red expected to find his brother +and the other two Diamond D riders. + +"With them, that'll make seven of us," young Morton said. "Then we can +show that Blacksnake gang a fight that is a fight! There's over a +dozen of 'em, though I think Lefty here wounded one, just after +Whiteman was killed. We saw red stains on the sagebrush for a hundred +yards along the cattle trail." + +Mounting a long rise, they began to descend again. A fertile valley +stretched out beneath them, green with grass and watered by the bluest +little stream that Kid Wolf had ever seen. It was a lovely spot; it +was small wonder that Gentleman John wished to add the Diamond D to his +holdings. + +"That's Blue-bottle Creek," announced Red Morton. "Queer that we don't +see any cattle. There's not a steer in sight. They ought to be +feedin' through here." + +There was no sign of anything moving throughout all the basin, either +human or cattle. The silence was unbroken, save for the steady +drumming of the little party's pony hoofs. + +"There's the sod house--over there in those trees," said Red, after +another mile. + +He was worried. The two other Diamond D men, too, were showing signs +of nervousness. Had the south herd gone the way of the other? + +They neared the sod house--a structure crudely built of layers of +earth. It had one door and one window, and near it was a +corral--empty. There was no sign of any one about, and there was no +reply to Red's eager shout. + +"Oh, Joe!" he hailed. + +His face was a shade paler, as he quickly swung himself out of his +saddle. 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. Without +waiting for anything more, The Kid and the two Diamond D riders +dismounted and raced toward the sod hut. None of them was prepared for +the terrible thing they found there. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +ON BLACKSNAKE'S TRAIL + +At first, they could see little, for not much light filtered through +the small door and window. Then details of the interior began to grow +more distinct in the hut's one room. A tarp had been tacked over the +dirt ceiling to keep scorpions and centipedes from dropping down on the +bunks below. There was only a little furniture, and that of a crude +sort. Some of it was smashed, as if in a scuffle. + +These things, however, were not noticed until later. What the visitors +saw was the form of a man with legs and arms outstretched at queer +angles. + +Kid Wolf was accustomed to horrible sights, but he remembered this one +ever afterward. The scene was stamped on his mind like a fragment of +some wild nightmare. + +The body was that of a man a few years older than Red Morton, and the +features, though set and twisted, were the same. A rope had been tied +to one wrist and fastened to one wall; another rope had been knotted +about his other wrist and secured to the opposite side of the hut. The +legs had been served the same way at the ankles. On the body of the +suspended figure rocks had been piled. They were of many sizes, +varying from a few pounds to several hundred. It was easy to see how +the unhappy man had met his end--by slow torture. One by one, the +rocks had been placed on his chest and middle, the combined weight of +them first slowly pulling his limbs from their sockets and then +crushing out the life that remained. + +Red, after his first outcry of agony, took it bravely. The Kid threw +his arm sympathetically around the youth's shoulders and drew him away, +while the others cut the ropes that held the victim of the rustler +gang's cruelty. In a few minutes, Red got a grip on himself and could +talk in a steady voice. + +"Reckon I'm alone now, Kid," he blurted. "Joe was all I had--and they +got 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 in +this game." + +Near the body they found a piece of paper--a significant document, for +it explained the motive for the crime. Kid Wolf read it and +understood. It was written in straggling handwriting: + + +I, Joe Morton, do hereby sell and turn over all interest in the Diamond +D Ranch property, for value received. My signature is below, and +testifies that I have sold said ranch to Gentleman John, of Skull, New +Mexico. + + +There was, however, no signature at the space left at the bottom of the +paper. Joe Morton had died game! + +"He refused to sign," said The Kid quietly, "and that means that yo're +the 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 this +Gentleman John isn't----" + +"He's the man behind it all, mah boy," the Texan told him. And in a +few words, he related how he had been approached by the self-styled +cattle king, and something of his shady dealings. "He wanted to buy +me," he concluded, "not knowin' that I had nevah abused the powah of +the Colt fo' mah own gain. Blacksnake is his chief gunman, actin' by +Gentleman John's ordahs." + +"Where's the other men--the two riders on duty with Joe?" Lefty Warren +wanted to know. + +It did not take much of a search to find them. One had fallen near the +little corral, shot through the heart. The other lay a few hundred +yards away, at the river bank. He, too, was dead. + +"Mo' murdah," snapped the Texan grimly. "Well, we must make ouah +plans." + +In this sudden crisis, the other three left most of the planning to Kid +Wolf himself. First of all, the bodies were buried. Rocks were piled +on the hastily made graves to keep the coyotes out, and they were ready +to go again. + +The Texan decided to follow the trails left by the stolen cattle, for +both herds were gone now, driven off the Diamond D range. Failing in +their attempt to get Joe Morton's signature, the outlaws had evidently +decided to take what they could get. + +There was one big reason why Gentleman John wished to get his hands on +the Diamond D. Although land was plentiful in that early day, Red's +father had obtained a land grant from a Spanish governor--a grant that +still held good and kept other herds from the rich grazing land and +ample water along Blue-bottle Creek. + +As they started down the trail again toward the broken, mountainous +country 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 his +brother, Red was a man. + +"We'll soon overtake 'em," old Mike Train muttered, savagely twirling +the cylinder of his ancient .45. "Blacksnake's gang can't make fast +time with those steers. He's probably drivin' 'em to Gentleman John's +headquarters 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 up +Lefty Warren. "He's a whipper. He's beaten more'n one Mex to death +with it, and they say a white man or two. He can handle a blacksnake +like a demon." + +Kid Wolf smiled grimly. To have Blacksnake McCoy for an enemy was by +no means a pleasant thing to think about, especially when the desperado +was backed by all the power that his employer--Gentleman +John--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'm +afraid 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 perfectly +legitimate to scratch the aces with yo' fingah nail." + +They were soon off the limits of the Diamond D and on the Casas +Amarillas--a ranch owned by Gentleman John and taking its Spanish name +from two yellow houses of adobe several miles distant. They saw +scattered cattle branded with a Lazy J--one of Gentleman John's many +brands--but discovered no stragglers from the stolen Morton herds. + +Following the trail was easy, and they struck a hot pace down through +and out of the grassy valley, climbing through a pass and up on a +rolling mesa dotted with thirsty-looking sage. For two full hours they +rode, while the sun crept toward the west. Their horses were beginning +to tire. A line of cedar-sprinkled hills loomed up ahead of them, but +by 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', miles +away. If we cut down through those hills, we'll gain time, too, and +keep 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--dust +from the trampling hoofs of many cattle. They could cut off a full +mile by riding down into the cedars, and Red decided to do so. The Kid +was dubious, but said nothing more. If Blacksnake had a rear guard of +any kind, they might have been sighted. In that case, they would run +into 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 the +depths of the notch between the hills. The straggling growth of cedars +and stumpy evergreens loomed up ahead of them, and they crashed +through. For several hundred yards they tore their way and found their +pace slowed by the difficult going. The trees began to thin out. Then +they heard a spring tinkling down among the red rocks, and the cedars +began to thicken again, as the little canyon narrowed and climbed +steeply. + +"Stick 'em up!" + +Kid Wolf fired at the sound of the voice while the loud shout was still +echoing. His double draw was lightning fast. Before the others knew +what was taking place, his two guns had flashed. At the dull boom of +the twin explosions, a crashing sound was heard in the brush, as if +something was wildly threshing about. Then bullets began to rip and +smash their way through the undergrowth. Cedar twigs flew. + +With a yell, Mike Train slumped down over his saddle pommel and rolled +off his horse. At the same instant, the two others--Lefty Warren and +Red Morton--reached for their guns. The thing had happened so quickly +that 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 dropped +both his own guns. It was a surprising thing for the Texan to do, but +his mind had worked quickly. His sharp eyes had taken in the +situation. They were covered, and from all sides. His first quick +shots had brought one man down, but there were at least six others, and +all were behind shelter and had a deadly drop. If The Kid had been +alone, he would, no doubt, have shot it out there and then, using his +own peculiar tactics. But he had the others to think of. If they +touched their guns, they would be killed instantly. + +The Texan's doubts had been well founded. They should have kept to the +mesa top. They had jumped into a trap. Surrender was the only thing +to do now, for while there was life, there was hope. The Kid had +slipped from tight situations before. + +Lefty Warren, Red Morton, and The Kid elevated their hands. A low +laugh came from behind the cedar thicket, and a group of desperadoes on +foot slipped through, holding drawn and leveled Colts. In the lead was +Blacksnake McCoy. His eyes fell on Kid Wolf and widened with surprise. +Then his teeth showed through his close-cropped beard in a snarl of +hate. + +"Well, if it ain't the gamblin' Cotton-picker!" he ejaculated. "I +didn'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 two +Colts. + +"It'd 'a' been better fer yuh if yuh'd shot it out," sneered +Blacksnake, "because Gentleman John will have somethin' in store fer +yuh 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 or +later, 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, then +paled. He was trembling with fury and deadly hate. He turned to his +men. + +"Take the others up to the Yellow Houses and wait for me there," he +rasped. "Pedro, my whip's on my pony; bring it to me. I'm havin' this +out with Cotton-picker, alone! When I'm through with him, I'll bring +him on up. One of yuh ride up to the herd and tell Slim to let +Gentleman John know we've got 'em. He'll finish with Cotton-picker +when I'm done with him. Savvy?" + +A blacksnake was brought to McCoy, and the others roughly surrounded +Lefty 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 the +outlaw, his voice shaking with rage. "I'm goin' to make yuh crawl on +yore hands and knees, Cotton-picker!" + +He holstered his gun, watching Kid Wolf cunningly, and drew back a +little to give himself leeway with his whip. Then he began to roll up +his sleeve. + +"I'll make yuh beg, Cotton-picker," he taunted insultingly, as he bared +his brawny right arm. "And if yuh run, I'll shoot--not to kill; that'd +be too easy. I'll blow yore legs in two!" + +Kid Wolf had been pulled from his horse by the others, and the faithful +snow-white animal had been taken along up the pass with the two +prisoners. There seemed no way of escape. Blacksnake had him, and the +gang leader grinned confidently. + +"Yo're a bully, sah," drawled the Texan. It was as if he were +deliberately trying to get his enemy aroused to white-hot fury. + +The words seemed to have that effect. With a loud oath, Blacksnake +cracked his whip like a pistol shot. The whip was as strong and tough +as a bull whip, with a loaded stock and a long, braided lash, thick in +the 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 force +that it cut through the Texan's clothing and tore into his flesh. + +"Now take off yore shirt!" Blacksnake bellowed. "I'm goin' to flay yuh +alive! Take it off!" + +There was no sign of pain in Kid Wolf's face. He was still smiling +agreeably. Blacksnake McCoy did not know what was coming. The Texan +was not entirely disarmed. True, his Colts had been taken away, and he +was apparently helpless. The Kid, however, had his hole card that was +always in the deck. This was his keen bowie knife, which more than +once had saved his life. Cleverly concealed in its sheath sewn down +the back of his shirt collar, it had been overlooked in the outlaws' +quick search. Pretending to remove his shirt, The Kid's right hand +went to his throat and closed on the handle of the knife. + +Blacksnake, showing his teeth in a laugh of hate, stood a half dozen +feet away from him, swinging his cruel whip slowly from side to side, +waiting. He was holding the whipstock in his right hand, and that +favored 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 a +glimpse of the shining blade for one brief instant. His whip hand +moved toward the butt of his gun. But he was too late. Kid Wolf could +draw and throw his bowie as swiftly as he could pull his firearms. It +flashed through the air--a streak of dazzling light! The fang of the +wolf was striking! + +_Ping!_ The steel tore its way through the outlaw's right wrist. The +Texan's throw had been as true as a rifle bead. Blacksnake yelled and +tried to reach for his Colt with his left hand. + +Then The Kid leaped in. Blacksnake was still squirming about and +clawing for his .45 when the Texan's first blow landed. Blacksnake was +burly, powerful. He weighed well over two hundred, and his shoulders +were as broad as a gorilla's. But his bullet head went back with a +jerk, as the Texan's hard fist thudded heavily on his cheek bone. + +In the quick scuffle, the Big Colt slipped from Blacksnake's holster +and fell to the ground. With all his fury now, the outlaw was lashing +terrific, belting swings at Kid Wolf's head. The Texan dodged, elusive +as a shadow. He leaped in, bored with his right and jolted Blacksnake +from top to toe with a smashing left. The big outlaw staggered, then +jumped back and tried to scoop up his gun. His right hand was +helpless, however, and his left clumsy. His fingers missed it, and The +Kid hit him again, bringing Blacksnake to his knees, groggy-headed and +bleary-eyed. His hand closed over the whip. The stock was heavily +loaded with lead, and it was a terrible weapon when held reversed. One +blow 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 of +his eyes and came in, whip swung back! Kid Wolf had no time to duck +down for the gun. The heavy stock was humming through the air in a +swish of death! + +_Smash!_ Blacksnake rocked on his feet. His teeth had come together +with a click. He wabbled, swayed. His whip fell from his relaxed +fingers. The Kid's footwork had been as swift and cunning as a +mountain cat's! He had stepped aside, rocked his body in a pivot from +the hips and landed a knock-out punch full on the point of the +big-chested outlaw's jaw! With a grunt, Blacksnake went down, first to +his knees, and then face thudding the ground. He landed with such +force 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 jerking +his tangled hair. "All right. Snap out of it," he drawled. + +Blacksnake was out for a full two minutes. Gradually consciousness +began 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 be +very 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. For +he had his hand under Blacksnake's vest, and that hand held a .45! In +his left hand, the outlaw carried his whip. The other, wounded, was in +his trousers pocket. The Texan had ordered him to keep it there, out +of sight. + +The two adobes, crumbling to ruins, dated from the Spaniards. For many +years they had been used only as occasional stopping places for passing +riders. It was here that Blacksnake had ordered Red Morton and Lefty +Warren taken. + +Kid Wolf was free now, and had he wished, he could have made his +escape. That thought, however, did not enter the Texan's mind. He +must 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 be +sorry." + +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 on +the far horizon had disappeared. That meant that the stolen Diamond D +herd had been driven on. Blacksnake had been staying some distance in +the rear to keep off any possible pursuit. Kid Wolf had five other +outlaws to contend with--no, four. For Blacksnake had sent one of them +ahead with the herd. + +Odds meant nothing, however, to the Texan. He knew that surprise and +quick action always counted more than numbers. Everything now depended +on boldness. As they neared the two adobes, he pretended to reel and +stagger close against Blacksnake for support, as if he had been beaten +until he could hardly stand. This, too, allowed him to keep the gun +against 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 be +inside 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 how +yo' tell him." + +Blacksnake opened his lips to shout a warning, but felt the touch of +steel 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 of +them was habitable, and it was to this one that the outlaw went, with +Blacksnake and Kid Wolf following close behind. A yell greeted +Blacksnake's arrival with his supposed prisoner. + +"I thought yuh'd have to carry him back, Black, or drag him by the +heels," one voice shouted. "Yuh must've got tired." + +The time for action was at hand! The Kid and the outlaw stood framed +for 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 a +whisky flask, one of these being the man Blacksnake had sent inside. +The two prisoners--Lefty Warren and young Morton--were securely bound +in lariat rope, sitting against one wall. The Kid saw their eyes light +up as they recognized him. Evidently they had not expected to see him +again 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 known +what was coming, and he was unarmed. Kid Wolf was no longer reeling +and staggering. The desperadoes looked up to stare into the sinister +muzzle of a .45! + +"Shoot him to pieces!" Blacksnake yelled, picking himself up on all +fours and whirling to make a jump for The Kid's ankles. + +The Texan dodged to one side, his gun sweeping the room. A jet flame +darted from the barrel, and there was a crash of broken glass. He had +fired at the liquor flask that one of the outlaws still held at his +lips. + +"That's a remindah," he said crisply. "Put up yo' hands!" + +Guns blazed suddenly. Two of the bandits had reached for their weapons +at the same moment. The walls of the adobe shook under blended +explosions, and powder smoke drifted down like a curtain, turning the +figures of the men into drifting shadows. + +The firing was soon over. The Kid's gun had roared a swift tattoo of +hammering shots. Dust flew from the wall near his head, but he had +spoiled the aim of both outlaws by fast, hair-trigger shooting. One +sank against a broken-down bunk in one corner, reamed through the upper +right arm and chest. The other fired again, but his gun hand was +dangling, and he missed by a foot. Playing cards were scattered, as +the 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. The +short, powerful blow to the jaw sent the leader down for good. He +rolled over, stunned. + +"_Bueno._" The Texan smiled. "Keep yo' hands right theah, please, +caballeros." + +Before the powder fumes had cleared away, he had liberated Lefty and +Red with quick strokes of his bowie. + +"I reckon we've got the uppah hand now, boys." He smiled. "Let's try +and 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 an +enthusiastic pair that shook off their severed bonds to clap The Kid +across the back. There was no time for conversation now, however, and +they busied themselves with disarming their five prisoners and binding +them with rope. + +"Gee, Kid!" Red whistled. "We thought we were done, and when yuh came +in and made sparks fly--whew!" + +"Theah'll be moah spahks fly, I'm afraid," the Texan drawled. "How'd +yo' like to make some spahks fly yo'selves?" + +The others showed their eagerness. The fighting fever was in their +veins, especially since the death of poor Mike Train. And now, with +Blacksnake and half the outlaw gang captured, they felt that they had a +good part of the battle won. Red tried to question Blacksnake about +his 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 and +beaten him with his fists. And none of them could blame him. + +It was nearly dark, and they made quick plans The stolen herd was not +far ahead, and with it were not more than seven of Gentleman John's +riders. + +"We'll take those cattle away from 'em," said Red fiercely, "and head +the steers back to the Diamond D!" + +It was decided that the prisoners could be left where they were for the +time being, although Lefty Warren was for stringing them up there and +then. Kid Wolf shook his head at this suggestion, however, and they +armed themselves, "borrowing" the guns of the Blacksnake gang. Then +they 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 trio +climbed 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 some +good in the blackest. The men we're goin' to fight to-night, fo' +instance, are probably just driftahs who've drifted the wrong way. But +Gentleman 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 be +thinking of possible bloodshed in all that dream beauty seemed +terrible. Yet it was necessary. It was a hard land. A man had to be +his 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 over +there? And there's a camp fire, too." + +He was right. The glow of a fire reddened the horizon and the distant +bawling of uneasy cattle could be heard on the night wind. + +The rustlers had made a camp on the mesa until the dawn. The big herd +was 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 right +direction. Let's make a wide circle heah." + +They rode to the west, so that they would not be outlined against the +moon. A full, curving mile slipped under their horses' pounding hoofs +before The Kid gave the signal for the turn. He had the outlaws +spotted, every one, and all depended now on his generalship. He knew +that the two riders on the far side of the night herd would be out of +it--for the time, at least. When the herd started their mad stampede +toward the Diamond D, they would have a high time just taking care of +themselves. The others, five in number, would be dealt with first. + +The trio slipped closer as silently as moving phantoms. The Kid saw +three mounted men--two blocking their path, and the other on the far +wing. Two other outlaws were at the fire. The Texan sniffed and +smiled. They were making coffee. + +"The two at the fiah make excellent tahgets," murmured Kid Wolf. "I'll +leave them to yo', Red. Lefty, start now and ride toward the fah +ridah. 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 give +the coyote yell, and we'll start ouah little row. Don't kill unless +necessary, 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 who +leaped to their feet, reaching for their guns. Kid Wolf's great white +charger 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 their +saddles, they drew and opened up a splattering fire. Their guns winked +red flashes. + +Lefty's man had shown fight, Lefty had bowled him over with a double +trigger pull, and Lefty came racing back to help Red with the two +rustlers 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. Their +plunging bodies milled about, and with uplifted tails and tossing +horns, they were on the run northward toward the home range--the +Diamond D! + +Although it was a case of shoot or be killed now, The Kid was aiming to +cripple. A leaden slug burned a flesh wound just below his left +armpit, as he opened up on the two rustlers. His gun hammers stuttered +down, throwing bullets on both sides of him, as he drove Blizzard +between his two enemies at full tilt. One, raked with lead through +both shoulders, thudded from his pony to the ground. The other leaned +over 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 out +of the dangerous firelight and had opened up on Lefty and Red. Kid +Wolf's heart gave a little jump. Red was down! Lefty and one of the +bandits were engaged in a hand-to-hand scuffle, for Warren's horse had +been shot under him. The other outlaw had lifted his gun to finish +Red, who was crawling along the ground. The range was a good fifty +yards, but Kid Wolf fired three times. The rustler standing over Red +dropped. Lefty broke away from his man, just as The Kid rode up with +lariat swinging. + +"Don't shoot!" the Texan sang out. "I've got him!" + +The rope hummed through the air, spread out and tightened. The last of +the outlaws went off his feet with a jerk. + +"One of 'em's runnin' away!" yelled Lefty, pointing to the man Kid Wolf +had shot through the arm. He was making a hot race in the direction of +Skull. + +"Let him go," said The Kid. "We don't want him. See how bad Red's +hurt." + +Outlined against the eastern sky were three riders now, far away and +becoming rapidly smaller. The two north riders were making their +get-away, also. The victory was complete. + +To their relief, Lefty and The Kid found that Red had received only a +flesh wound above the knee. + +Kid Wolf tied the man he had caught with his lariat, then caught Red's +horse and one of the loose outlaw ponies for Lefty. + +"Now yo' ought to be able to ease those Diamond D cattle on home," he +drawled. "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 his +headquartahs at Agua Frio?" + +"About nine miles straight west, over the mesa. But say, yuh'd better +let one of us go with yuh." + +The Texan shook his head. "I'm playin' a lone hand, Red. Yo' job is +to 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. The +moon had gone down, and all was pitch dark. It was nearly morning. + +He had heard something--for Gentleman John was a light sleeper. He +listened intently, then sat on the edge of his bed to draw on his +boots. The sound came again from the direction of the patio. Had his +man, Jose, forgotten to lock the gate? Surely he had heard the chain +rattling! Some horse, no doubt, or possibly a mule, had strayed into +the little courtyard. Perhaps it was some of his men returning. And +yet 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, as +if some one were moving about. + +"Jose!" Gentleman John called angrily. "What are yuh fumblin' at in +there? 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 a +small lamp by his bedside. Then he slyly drew a derringer from under +his pillow. Again he went to the door, putting his hand on the knob. + +"Jose! Come here!" he cried, with an oath. + +The door swung open, and the lamplight shone on a human face--a face +that was not Jose's, but a stern white one with glinting blue eyes! + +"Jose can't come," said a voice in a soft drawl. "He's tied up. But +if 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 his +black and ugly double-barreled pistol! + +_Span-ng-g-g-g! Br-r-rang!_ Both barrels of the derringer exploded in +two quick roars. The leaden balls, however, went wild. A steel hand +had 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, and +with 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 to +know bettah than to use a toy like that. Sit down on the bed, sah. I +have 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." Kid +Wolf rolled a cigarette and lighted it over the lamp chimney. +"Gentleman John," he drawled, "whoevah named yo' suah had a sense of +humah. Yo' are a murderah, and a cowardly one, because yo' have othahs +do 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 the +circumstances," said The Kid mildly. "I'm not heah to kill yo'. I'm +heah 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 I +spent in town. Theah's a new cattlemen's organization theah--and +they'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 evidence +when they murdahed Joe Morton. They left the bill o' sale he wouldn't +sign! 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 pen +near the lamp. Placing his gun at his elbow, within easy reach, the +Texan wrote steadily for a full minute. Then he turned and handed the +cattle king the slip of paper. + +"Yo' through in Nueva Mex, Gentleman John," The Kid drawled. "It's +just 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 Gentleman +John. + +"Yo' won't be in this country to contest it," Kid Wolf drawled. "This +won't in any way repay Red fo' the loss of his brothah, but it's +something. 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 The +Kid softly. + +Beads of sweat suddenly stood out on Gentleman John's forehead. His +own guilty conscience told him that what The Kid said was true. His +gimlet 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 that +yo' face the ones yo' have wronged. And justice has always been my +guidin' stah. I'm a soldier of misfohtune, fightin' fo' the undah +dawg. I'm takin' yo' to Skull, sah." + +Gentleman John groaned in terror. All the blustering bravado had gone +out 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 weight +in Skull, undah the new ordah of things. If yo' sign--thus doin' right +by Red Morton, whom yo' wronged--I'll do what I can to save yo' from +the rope, but I can't promise that yo'll escape it. Are yo' signin'?" + +Gentleman John moistened his lips feverishly, and his hand trembled as +he reached for the pen. + +"I'll sign," he groaned. + +When he had scratched his signature, Kid Wolf took the paper, folded it +carefully and put it in his pocket. + +"_Bueno,_" he said softly. "Now get yo' hat and coat. I hate to rob +yo' 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 verse +to his favorite tune, "On the Rio." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +APACHES + +In the half light of the early morning, a stagecoach was rattling down +a steep hill near the New Mexico-Arizona boundary line. The team of +six bronchos fought against the weight of the lumbering vehicle behind, +with stiff front legs threw themselves back against their harness. The +driver, high on his box, sawed at the lines with his foot heavy on the +creaking 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 it +before, and knew that he didn't mean a word he said. They were almost +at the foot of the hill now, and the thick white dust, kicked up in +choking spurts by the rumbling wheels, sifted down on the leathery +mesquite and dagger plants below. + +"I don't like the looks o' that brush down there," said the other man +on the box. He was an express guard, and across his knees was a +sawed-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 not +yet come to that savage country of flaming desert and baking mountain. +Even a worse peril than the operations of the renegades and bad men of +the border was the threat of the Apaches. Behind any clump of +mesquites a body of these grim and terrible fighters of the arid lands +might lurk, eager for murder and robbery. And it was rumored that a +chief even more cruel than Geronimo, Cochise, or Mangus Colorado was at +their head. + +The men who operated the stage line knew the risk they were taking in +that unbroken country, but they were of the type that could look danger +in the face and laugh. The two steely-eyed men on the coach box, this +gray morning, were samples of the breed. + +Inside the vehicle were four passengers. Three of them were men past +middle life--miners and cattlemen. The third was a youth who addressed +one of the older men as "father." All were armed with six-guns, and +all were bound for the valley of San Simon. + +The stage had reached the bottom of the hill now, and as the team +reached the level ground, the driver lined them out and settled back in +his seat with a satisfied grunt. About both sides of the trail at this +point grew great thickets of brush--paloverde, the darker mesquites, +and grotesque bunches of prickly pear. One of the bronchos suddenly +reared backward. + +"Steady, yuh ornery----" the driver began. + +He did not finish. There was a sharp twang! An arrow whistled out of +the mesquites and buried itself in the side of the coach nearly to the +feather! As if this were a signal, a dozen rifles cracked out from the +brush. Bowstrings snapped, and a shower of arrows and lead hummed +around the heads of the frightened ponies. The driver cried out in +pain 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 smoke +as 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 something +to 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 were +mounted, and others were on foot. All charged the coach. + +There must have been fifty in the swarm, and still they came! Those +that 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, plunging +and kicking at the harness in their death agony. The other +animals--some wounded, and all of them mad with fright--overturned the +old stagecoach. With a loud crash, the vehicle went over on its side! +The driver and guard, teeth bared in grins of fury, raised their +six-guns and prepared to sell their lives as dearly as possible. The +passengers inside began firing desperately. + +The renegade Indians rushed. They nearly gained the wrecked stage, but +not quite. Before the straight shooting of the trapped whites, they +fell back to cover again. They did not believe in taking unnecessary +chances. They had their victims where they wanted them, and it would +be only a question of time before they would be slaughtered. The fight +became a siege. + +It was sixty against six--or, rather, it was sixty to five. For the +redskins had increased the odds by shooting down the driver. The +second 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 a +waiting game. The fire, for a moment, ceased. + +"They'll rush again in a minute," muttered the guard. "We'll do well +to 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 his +revolver. + +He was a broad-shouldered, big-chested man of fifty--the father of the +youth who was now fighting beside him. + +The guard shook his head. "Afraid not. Unless one of us could get +through to Lost Springs, six miles from here. Even if we could, I +don't think we'd get any help. There's not many livin' there, and +they'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 powder +spurts blossomed out from the brush, and the war cry came shrilly. The +rush brought a line of half-naked warriors to within a few yards of the +coach. Then they fell back again, leaving four of their number dead or +wounded 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 up +quickly: + +"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 told +him. + +"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 the +two would ever see each other alive again. But father and son shook +hands 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 savages +by 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 down +into an arroyo. A score of warriors swarmed after him, firing shot +after 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 been +called a town--sprawled in a valley of cottonwoods, a scattering of +low-roofed adobes. To find such an oasis, after traveling the +heat-tortured wilderness to the east or the west, was such relief to +the wayfarer that few missed stopping. + +There was but one public building in the place--a large building of +plastered earth which was at the same time a saloon, a store, a +gambling hall, and a meeting place for those who cared to partake of +its hospitality. + +The crude sign over the narrow door read: "Garvey's Place." It was +enough. Garvey was the storekeeper, the master of the gamblers, and +the saloon owner. Lost Springs was a one-man town, and that man was +Gil Garvey. His reputation was not of the best. Dark marks had been +chalked up against his record, and his past was shady, too. There were +whispers, too, of even worse things. It was, however, a land where +nobody asked questions. It was too dangerous. Garvey was accepted in +Lost Springs because he had power. + +It was a hot morning. The thermometer outside Garvey's door already +registered one hundred and five. Heat devils chased one another across +the 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, there +were perhaps a dozen men in the house besides Garvey himself. Garvey +was tending bar, which was his habit until noon, when his bartender +relieved him. + +Gil Garvey was a menacing figure of a man, massive of build and +sinister of face. His jet-black eyebrows met in the center of his +scowling forehead, and under them gleamed eyes cold and dangerous. A +thin wisp of a dark mustache contrasted with the quick gleam of his +strong, white teeth. On the rare occasions when he laughed, his mirth +was like the hungry snarl of a wolf. + +The sprinkling of drinkers at the bar strolled over to watch the faro +game, and Garvey, taking off his soiled apron, joined them, lighting a +black cigar. The ruler of Lost Springs moved lightly on his feet for +so heavy a man. Around his waist was a gun belt from which swung a +silver-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 the +door for a look outside. A score of questions were fired at the +newcomer. + +"They're attackin' the stage at the foot of the pass!" explained the +messenger. + +There were sighs of relief at this bit of news, for at first they had +thought that the red warriors were about to enter the town. But six +miles away! That was a different matter. + +"I'm Dave Robbins," the youth went on desperately. "I've got to go +back there with help. When I left, they were holdin' 'em off. Fifty +or sixty Indians!" + +Some of the saloon customers began to murmur their sympathy. But it +was evident that they were none too eager to go to the aid of the +ambushed stagecoach. + +Young Robbins--covered with dust, his face scratched by cactus thorns, +and with an arrow still hanging from his clothing--saw the indifference +in their eyes. + +"Surely yuh'll go!" he pleaded. "Yuh--yuh've got to! My father's in +the coach!" + +Garvey spoke up, smiling behind his mustache. + +"What could we do against sixty Apaches?" he demanded. "Besides, the +men in the stage are dead ones by this time. We couldn't do any good." + +Robbins' face went white. With clenched fists, he advanced toward +Garvey. + +"Yo're cowards, that's all!" he cried. "Cowards! And yo're the +biggest one of 'em all!" + +Garvey drew back his huge arm and sent his fist crashing into the +youth's face. Robbins, weak and exhausted as he was, went sprawling to +the floor. + +And at that moment the swinging doors of the saloon opened wide. The +man who stood framed there, sweeping the room with cool, calm eyes, was +scarcely older than the youth who had been slugged down. His rather +long, fair hair was in contrast with the golden tan of his face. He +wore a shirt of fringed buckskin, open at the neck. His trousers were +tucked into silver-studded riding boots, weighted with spurs that +jingled in tune to his swinging stride. At each trim hip was the butt +of 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 sparkle +behind them. He was silent for a long moment, and when he finally +spoke, 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 the +stranger. 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 dangerous +there, for he drew back a step, content with muttering oaths under his +breath. + +"What's the trouble?" the stranger asked Robbins quietly. + +The youth seemed to know that he had found a friend, for he at once +told the story of the ambushed stage. + +"I came here for help," he concluded, "and was turned down. These men +are 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 to +face the gathered company. "And these othah men are goin' to throw in +with yo', too!" + +The men in the saloon stood aghast, open-mouthed. But they didn't +hesitate long. When the stranger spoke again, his words came like the +crack of a whip: + +"Get yo' hosses!" + +Garvey's heavy-jawed face went purple with fury. That this young +unknown dared to try such high-handed methods so boldly in Lost +Springs--which he ruled--maddened him! His big hand slid down toward +his hip with the rapidity of a lightning bolt. + +There was a resounding crash--a burst of red flame. Garvey's hand +never closed over his gun butt. The stranger had drawn and fired so +quickly that nobody saw his arm move. And the reason that the amazed +Garvey did not touch the handle of his .44 was because there was no +handle there! The young newcomer's bullet had struck the butt of the +holstered gun and smashed it to bits. + +Garvey stared at the handleless gun as if stupefied. Then his amazed +glance fell upon the stranger, who was smiling easily through the +flickering powder fumes. + +"Who--who are yuh?" he stammered. + +The stranger smiled. "Kid Wolf," he drawled, "from Texas, sah. My +friends 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 a +name well known west of the Chisholm Trail. His reputation had been +passed by word of mouth along the border until there were few who had +not heard of his deeds. His very name seemed to fill the riffraff of +the barroom with courage. Some of them cheered, and all prepared to +obey the young Texan's orders. Every one was soon busy loading and +examining six-guns. + +Garvey was the one exception. He was infuriated, and his malignant +eyes gleamed with hate. Kid Wolf had made an enemy. He was, however, +accustomed to that. Smiling ironically, he faced Garvey, who was +quivering all over with helpless rage. + +"Yo' won't need to come along," he drawled. "I'd rathah have Apaches +in front of me than yo' behind me." + +Kid Wolf lost no time in rounding up his hastily drafted posse. A +horse was procured for Robbins and The Kid prepared to ride by his +side. Kid Wolf's horse was "tied to the ground" outside, and a shout +of genuine admiration went up as the men caught sight of the +magnificent creature, beautiful with muscular grace. Swinging into his +California 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 were +armed with six-guns. Now that they were actually on the way, the men +seemed eager for the battle. Perhaps Kid Wolf's cool and determined +leadership 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 hot +fo' those Apaches." + +After a few minutes of fast going, they could hear the faint crackling +of gunfire ahead of them, carried on the torrid wind. Robbins +brightened, for this meant that some survivors still remained on their +feet. Kid Wolf, experienced in Indian warfare, understood the +situation at once, and ordered his men to scatter and come in on the +Indians 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 rest +of yo' come in from the west and south. Make every shot count, fo' if +we don't scattah the Apaches at the first chahge, we will be at a big +disadvantage!" + +It was a desperate situation, with the odds nearly five to one against +them. Reaching the pass, they could look down on the battle from the +cover of the mesquites. From the overturned stage, thin jets of fire +streaked steadily, and a pall of white smoke hung over it like a cloud. +From the brush, other gun flashes answered the fire. Occasionally a +writhing brown body could be seen, crawling from point to point. The +thicket seemed to be alive with them. + +Kid Wolf listened for a moment to the faint popping of the guns. Then +he raised his hand in a signal. + +"Let's go!" he sang out. + +A second later, Blizzard was pounding down the pass like a snowstorm +before the wind. + +The leader of this band of murderous Apaches was a youthful warrior +named Bear Claw, the son of the tribal chief. Peering at the coach +from his post behind a clump of paloverde, his cruel face was lighted +by 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 the +occasion demanded. + +Bear Claw was in high good humor, for he saw that the ambushed victims +in the stage could not hope to hold out much longer. Only three +remained alive in the coach, and some of these were wounded. The white +men's fire was becoming less accurate. + +The young leader of the Apaches was horrible to look at. He was naked +save for a breechcloth and boot moccasins and his face was daubed with +ocher and vermilion. Across his lean chest, too, was a smear of paint +just under the necklace of bear claws that gave him his name. He was +armed with a .50-caliber Sharps single-shot rifle and with the only +revolver in the tribe--an old-fashioned cap-and-ball six-shooter, taken +from some murdered prospector. + +Bear Claw was about to raise his left hand--a signal for the final rush +that would wipe out the white men in the overturned coach--when a +terrific volley burst out like rattling thunder from all sides. +Bullets raked the brush in a deadly hail. An Indian a few paces from +Bear Claw jumped up with a weird yell and fell back again, pierced +through the body. + +The young chief saw whirlwinds of dust swooping down on the scene from +every direction. In those whirlwinds, he knew, were horses. Bear Claw +had courage only when the odds were with him. How many men were in the +attacking 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 the +startled 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 the +white posse, more than four to one. Throwing himself on his horse, he +decided to set his renegade warriors an example. Giving the Apache war +whoop, 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-white +horse--he went at him with leveled revolver. + +What happened then unnerved the Apaches at Bear Claw's back. The man +Bear Claw had charged was Kid Wolf! The Texan did not return the +Indian's blaze of revolver fire. He merely ducked low in his saddle +and 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 a +terrific jolt. The weight of both speeding horses was behind the +impact. Something snapped. Bear Claw went off his pony's back like a +bag of meal and landed on the sand, his head at a queer angle. His +neck was broken! + +Then Kid Wolf's guns began to talk. Fire burst from the level of both +his hips as he put spurs to Blizzard and charged with head low directly +into the amazed Apaches. The others, too, followed the Texan's +example, but it was Kid Wolf who turned the trick. It was the deciding +card, and without their chief, the redskins were panic-stricken. The +only thing they thought of now was escape. The little hoofs of their +ponies began to drum madly. But instead of rushing in the direction of +the whites, they drummed away from them. Kid Wolf ordered his men not +to 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 the +encounter, raced back to the overturned coach. The vehicle, riddled +with bullets and arrows, resembled a butcher's shop. On the ground +near it was the body of the driver, while the guard, hit in a dozen +places, lay half in and half out of the coach, dead. + +Young Robbins had left four men alive when he made his escape toward +Lost Springs. There now remained only two. And one of these, it could +be 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. He +was quick to note that the man was beyond any human aid. The +frontiersman, his six-gun still emitting a curl of blue smoke, was +placed 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'm +glad the Apaches won't have me to--chop up afterward. Take my word for +it--there's some white man--behind this. There's twenty thousand +dollars in the express box----" + +His words trailed off, and with a moan, he breathed his last. Kid Wolf +gently 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 to +the bar and took several drinks of his own liquor. It was a fiery red +whisky distilled from wheat, and of the type known to the Indians as +"fire water." It did not put Garvey in any better humor. Wiping his +lips, 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 with +a few well-directed kicks. The Indian's eyes widened with fear at the +sight of the white man's rage-distorted face, and when he had heard his +orders, 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 Mexicans +entered 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 to +the door to see five riders approaching Lost Springs from the north. +He waved his hand to them before they had left the cover of the +cottonwoods. + +The group of sunburned, booted men who hastily entered Garvey's Place +were individuals of the Lost Springs ruler's own stamp. All were +gunmen, and some wore two revolvers. Most of them were wanted by the +law for dark deeds done elsewhere. Sheriffs from the Texas Panhandle +would have recognized two of them as Al and Andy Arnold--brother +murderers. Another was a killer chased out of Dodge City, Kansas--a +slender, quick-fingered youth known as "Pick" Stephenson. Henry +Shank--a gunman from Lincoln, New Mexico--strode in their lead. + +The fifth member of the quintet was the most terrible of them all. He +was a half-breed Apache, dressed partly in the Indian way and partly +like 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 a +cat's. This man--Garvey's go-between--was Charley Hood. He grinned +continually, but his smile was like the snarl of a snapping dog. + +"What's up, Garvey?" Shank demanded. "We was just ready to start out +fer a cattle clean-up." + +"Plenty's up," snarled Garvey. "Help yoreselves to liquor while I tell +yuh. 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 fails +us----" + +"A twenty-thousand-dollar job!" Shank barked angrily. "And we get +half!" + +"We get all," chuckled Garvey. "The Apaches will give their share to +me for fire water. That's why this must go through. If Bear Claw and +his 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 the +significant 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 no +law west o' the Pecos! And he's west o' the Pecos now! The only law +here 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 had +been in workin' order, I'd have got this Kid Wolf the minute he opened +his 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 think +o' this?" And he laid a chunk of ore on the bar under the saloon +keeper's nose. + +"Solid silver!" Garvey gasped. "Where's it from?" + +"From the valley of the San Simon. It's from land owned--owned, mind +yuh--by an hombre named Robbins. Gov'ment grant." + +"We'll figger a way to get it," returned Garvey, then his eyes +narrowed. "What name did yuh say?" + +"Robbins. Bill Robbins." + +Garvey grinned. "Why, he was on the stage! It was his kid that came +here 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. An +Indian 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 has +to say." + +The Indian runner's words, gasped in halting, broken English, brought +consternation to Garvey and his treacherous gunmen: + +"No get money box. Have keel two-three, maybe more, of white men in +stage wagon. Then riders come. White chief on white devil horse, he +break Bear Claw's neck. Bear Claw die. We ride away as fast as could +do. White men fix stage wagon. Hunt for horse to drive it to Lost +Springs." + +Garvey clenched his huge fists. + +"Get me another gun!" he rasped. "We'll have this out with Kid Wolf +right now!" + +Charley Hood spoke for the first time, and his bestial face with +distorted with rage. + +"Bear Claw son of Great Chief Yellow Skull! Yellow Skull get Keed Wolf +if 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. Wolf +from Texas a favor by puttin' lead through him. Bear Claw was Yellow +Skull's favorite. The old chief is an expert at torture. I'd like to +be on hand to see it. But I've got an idea. Shank, have Jose dig a +grave on Boot Hill--make it two of 'em. We've got to get that express +money." + +"And the silver," chuckled the desperado, as he took a farewell drink +at the bar. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +TWO OPEN GRAVES + +It was some time before the overturned stagecoach could be righted. It +took longer to provide a team for it. When the bodies of the +unfortunate white men had been loaded into the vehicle and the ponies +lined out it was late in the afternoon. + +Kid Wolf had examined the contents of the express box and found that it +contained a small fortune in money. He decided to take charge of it +and see that it reached proper hands. Twenty miles west of Lost +Springs, he learned, were an express-company station and agent. The +Texan planned to guard the money at Lost Springs overnight and then +take it on to the express post, located at Mexican Tanks. + +The two Robbinses, both father and son, were overcome with gratitude +toward the man who had saved them. They at once agreed to stay with +Kid Wolf. + +The posse members that the Texan had drafted at revolver point were not +so willing. Although most of them were honest men, they feared +Garvey's gang and the consequences of their act. All of them suspected +that Garvey had a hand in the plot to rob the stagecoach. Most of them +made excuses and rode away in different directions. + +"We beat the Apaches," explained one, "so I reckon I'll go back to the +ranch. Adios, and good luck!" + +Kid Wolf smiled. He knew that the men were leaving him for other +reasons. Perhaps a man with less courage would have avoided Lost +Springs, or even abandoned the money. The young Texan, however, was +not to be swerved from what he believed to be the right. + +"Look out for Garvey, Kid," begged Dave Robbins. "He hates yuh for +what yuh done." + +"I've heard of him," the elder Robbins added. "If helpin' us has got +you 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 in +the 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 see +this 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 the +vehicle, and beside him on the box rode the two Robbinses, father and +son. + +The road to Lost Springs was not the direct route the Indian messenger +had taken. It led around steep side hills and high-banked washes in +which nothing grew but tough, stunted clumps of thirsty paloverde. +Near the tiny settlement, the trail climbed a long slope to swing +around a cactus-cluttered mound which served as Lost Springs' Boot +Hill. The stage trail cut the barren little graveyard in two, and on +both sides of it were headboards, some rotting with age, and others +quite new, marking the last resting places of men who had died with +smoke in their eyes. + +It was nearly sundown when Kid Wolf and the party with the +bullet-riddled coach reached this point. They found a group of +hard-eyed men waiting for them. With Garvey were his five gunmen, +mounted, armed to the teeth, and blocking the road! Kid Wolf caught +the driver's eyes and nodded for him to go on. The stage rumbled up to +the spot where Garvey waited. + +"Stop!" the Lost Springs ruler snarled. "I reckon we want some words +with 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 over +that express money." + +"And the next thing?" the Texan asked softly. + +"Next thing, we got business with that man!" Garvey pointed to Dave +Robbins' father. + +"With me?" Robbins demanded in astonishment. + +"The same. We want yuh to sign this paper, turnin' over yore claim in +the 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 on +it. 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 the +merest trifle. + +"Here's the answer!" Garvey rasped. He pointed at two mounds of +freshly disturbed earth a few feet from the road. "Read what's written +over 'em, and take yore choice." + +Kid Wolf saw that two headboards had been erected near the shallow +graves. One of them had the following significant epitaph written on +it in neatly printed Spanish: + + _Aqui llacen restos de Kid Wolf._ + +This in English was translated: "Here lies in the grave, at rest, Kid +Wolf." + +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 come +through. Now what's yore answer?" + +"Garvey," spoke up Kid Wolf, "I've known of othah white men who hired +the Apaches to do their dirty work. They all came to a bad end. And +so, 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 snapped +down at his hips. Al Arnold, alone of the six riders, saw the movement +in time even to think about drawing his own weapon. And perhaps it +would have been better if he had not seen, for his own gun pull was +slow and clumsy in comparison with Kid Wolf's. His right hand had +moved but a few inches when the Texan's left-hand Colt spat a wicked +tongue of flame. + +Before the thunder of the explosion could be heard, the leaden slug +tore its way through Arnold's wrist. Before the puff of black powder +smoke had drifted away, Arnold's gun was thudding to the ground. The +others 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, and +they hesitated. Garvey himself remained motionless, frozen in the +saddle. His lips trembled with rage. + +"I'm not a killah," Kid Wolf drawled. "I nevah take life unless it's +forced on me. If I did, I'd soon make Lost Springs a bettah place to +live in. Now turn yo' backs with yo' hands in the air--and ride! The +next time I shoot, it's goin' to be on sight! Vamose! Pronto!" + +Muttering angrily under their breath, Garvey and his gunmen obeyed the +order. Yet Kid Wolf knew that the trouble had not been averted, but +merely postponed. He was not through with the Lost Springs bandit gang. + + +The driver of the coach--the only member of the posse who had remained +loyal in the face of peril--was a man of courage. Johnson was his +name, 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 Mexes +and Injuns with him before mornin'." + +Kid Wolf accepted, and the coach was deserted. They buried the bodies +of the men they had brought in the stage, not in the Lost Springs +graveyard, but in an arroyo near it. Then they removed the valuable +express 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 from +the Springs, and still closer to Boot Hill. On the side next to the +water hole, the grass and tulles grew nearly waist-high. On the other +three 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. As +a great deal might depend upon having horses ready, Blizzard, along +with two pinto ponies, was quartered in the other apartment. This +redone, and with one of the four men standing watch at all times, they +prepared 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 the +tulles." + +They watched him proceed warily toward the water hole. The landscape +was 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 sparkling +on the water as he swung along. Then suddenly a shot rang out +sharply--the unmistakable crack of a Sharps .50-caliber rifle! Without +a 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. It +was all that Kid Wolf could do to hold back the excitable younger +Robbins, who wanted to avenge their friend's death immediately. + +"No use fo' us to show ouahselves until we know how the cahds are +stacked," 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 in +the tulles or beyond them. They were soon to find that there were far +too many. Gunfire began to blaze out in sharp, reechoing 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 fired +twice, and then twice again. As far as the others could see, there was +nothing in view to shoot at; but agitated threshings about in the +tulles showed them that at least some of his bullets had found human +lodging places. + +Garvey had evidently succeeded in adding men to his gang, for more than +a 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 contented +themselves with sending lead humming through the small window on the +exposed 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 can +turn up twelve lead aces fo' a show-down. And I have anothah ace--a +steel one, that's always in the deck." + +The Texan saw as well as the others how desperate the situation had +become. He knew that death would be the probable outcome for all of +them. + +Kid Wolf, however, was not a type of man who gave up. If they must go +out, he decided, they would go out fighting. + +The sun climbed the sky and disappeared over the distant blue range to +the west, leaving the desert behind bathed in warm reds and soft +purples. Then the shadows deepened, and night fell. + +With it came a full moon, riding high out of the southeast--a +pumpkin-colored, gigantic Arizona moon that changed to shining silver. +Its light illuminated the scene and turned the landscape nearly as +bright as day. This was a fact in favor of the three men cornered in +the adobe. The attackers dared not show themselves in a rush. All +night long their guns cracked, and they continued to do so when the +east 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 from +intense thirst. The little adobe was like an oven. The sun burned +down pitilessly, distorting the air with waves of heat, and drawing +mocking mirages in the sky. Bullets still hummed and buzzed about +them. Every hissing slug seemed to whistle the mournful tune of +"Death--death--death!" Late in the afternoon, the elder Robbins could +endure the torture no longer. + +"I'm goin' after water!" he cried. + +Neither his son nor Kid Wolf could reason with him. He would not +listen. He reasoned that although it was death to venture to the +spring, 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. Promise +yuh'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, but +Robbins was past reasoning. Lurching through the door, he ran outside +the 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 smoke +blossomed out from the high grass--half a score of them! Bill Robbins +staggered on his feet, reeled on a few steps, and then fell. His body +had been riddled. + +Kid Wolf's touch was tender as he took the orphaned youth's hand in his +own. 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 hope +we'll meet it as bravely. I have a plan. If we escape, we must do it +to-night. Can yo' stick it out till then?" + +Young Robbins nodded. The death of his father had been a great shock +to him, but he did not flinch. In that desperate hour, Kid Wolf knew +that 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 a +mystery to them. Their throats were parched, and their eyes bloodshot. +To make matters worse, their horses, too, were suffering. Blizzard +nickered softly from time to time, but quieted when Kid Wolf called to +him 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 and +Dave Robbins saw something that made them boil inwardly--the burial of +Bill 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 to +complete his boast. The Texan's grave still waited! + +A thin bank of clouds rolled up to obscure somewhat the light of the +moon. This was what Kid Wolf had been waiting for. It was their only +chance. + +"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 me +latah, if I make it. I don't dare ride him, because he's white and too +good a tahget in the moon. I'll have to crawl toward Boot Hill. It's +the 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 and +careful as an Indian, and take yo' time. If anything should happen to +me, strike fo' yo' place on the San Simon. The reason I'm goin' first +is so that yo' can escape in the excitement if they spot me. Heah's +luck! I'll turn my hoss loose now." + +They shook hands. Then, like a lithe moving shadow, the Texan crept +out into the night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +PURSUIT + +Fire flames darted occasionally from the high tulles, licking the +darkness like the tongues of venomous serpents. Rifles cracked, and +bullets, fired at random, buzzed across the sand flats. Kid Wolf had +an uncomfortable few minutes ahead of him. + +Whenever the moon peeped out of its flying blanket of cloud, he was +forced to lie flat and motionless on the ground. Lead often spattered +uncomfortably 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 to +safety. Blizzard, well trained, would follow him if he managed to +elude 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 was +hardly likely that any watchers remained on the hill. + +But Kid Wolf received a thrill of horror and surprise. The moon +drifted free of its cloud curtain for a moment. He was standing not a +dozen 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 the +half-breed, Charley Hood! His cruel lips were parted in a terrible +smile as he slowly raised the weapon to a level with his eyes! + + +While Kid Wolf had been creeping toward Boot Hill, Dave Robbins was in +the adobe hut, counting the dragging minutes. The suspense, now that +the time for action was at hand, was nerve-racking. Would the Texan +make it? Robbins strained his ears for the triumphant yells that would +announce The Kid's death or capture. + +As the seconds grew to minutes, he began to breathe easier. When it +seemed to him that a half hour had passed, he prepared to follow. The +moon, however, was now too bright, and he had to wait fully a quarter +of an hour more before the light faded to shadow again. When the +moment arrived, he squirmed through the doorway and across the sands on +his hands and knees. + +Dave Robbins was frontier bred, and although his progress was slower +than the Texan's had been, he crept along as silently as one of the +redskins themselves. Not a mesquite twig snapped under his body; not a +pebble rattled. It seemed to take him hours to reach the hill which +Kid Wolf had pointed out to him. As he did so, the moonlight again +became 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 looked +around him, trying to decide where he was and what to do. His eyes +fell upon the two recently dug graves. Headboards stood at each of +them. Both were covered. Near the mounds lay a spade. The earth +clinging to it was moist. + +With his heart in his throat, Dave Robbins again looked at the grave +markers. 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 had +happened; just what, he did not know. It seemed the end. Could his +friend, the gallant Texan, have met death? It didn't seem possible, +and yet the evidence was before his eyes. Anger against Garvey and his +hired killers suddenly overcame him. A hot wave seemed to sweep over +him. He turned about and faced, not the distant San Simon, but in the +direction 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 joy +to 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! The +shock of it left the youth weak for a moment. The two wrung hands, and +Robbins blurted: + +"I thought yuh were dead! What happened? Why this covered grave?" + +"A half-breed lookout," the Texan explained in a whisper. "Ugly, but +slow with a gun. He had the drop, so instead of reachin' fo' mah +Colts, I pretended to raise mah hands. Then I gave him this--mah hole +cahd, the thirteenth ace." + +And Kid Wolf showed him the heavy bowie knife so carefully hidden in +its sheath sewn to the inside of his shirt collar. + +"With this through his throat, he fell right in the grave they'd dug +fo' me. Then I saw the shovel, and I couldn't resist throwin' some +dirt ovah him. Well, that's that. I hated to take his life, but I had +to 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 the +coyote yell--a mournful cry that seemed to echo and reecho. The sound +was so perfect an imitation that Robbins could scarcely believe his +ears. And it even fooled the Indians. It did not, however, deceive +the sagacious horse that waited patiently in the adobe. The Kid +clutched his young companion's arm. Straining their eyes, they saw a +white something moving up an arroyo. + +"That Blizzahd hoss is smahter than I am," chuckled the Texan. "He +knows 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 his +hoofs 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 little +distance to the west of it. Ahead of them now was safety, if they +could make it. The Texan mounted and swung up Robbins behind the +saddle. + +"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 with +that? That express box was just a blind. Don't yo' know what I did +while the rest of yo' were tippin' back the stagecoach? No? Well, I +transferred the twenty thousand to Blizzahd's saddlebags, so the +money"--he tapped the bulges on each side of the big saddle--"is right +heah!" + +Kid Wolf, ever since he had taken charge of the express money, had +realized his responsibility and trust. He would protect it with his +life. If he could reach Mexican Tanks with it, the money would be +safe, for a small post of soldiers and government scouts guarded the +place. + +They had not gone a half mile, however, when a sound of distant +shouting 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 a +water hole west of them in the hills, and they decided to head for +that, as they were suffering from intense thirst. Blizzard, too, had +not taken water for thirty-six hours. + +The Apache is one of the best trailers in the world. They were under a +terrible handicap, and both realized it. With the great white horse, +strong as it was, carrying double, they could not hope to out-distance +pursuit. + +"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. Shortly +afterward, they reached the water hole. It was nearly dry, but enough +moisture remained to refresh both horse and riders. + +Then they went on again. Kid Wolf could, tell by Blizzard's actions +that they were being followed. Before long he himself saw signs. +Little dust clouds began to show behind them, scattered over a line +miles 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 them +swarmed with moving dots--dots that grew larger and more distinct with +every fleeting minute. Garvey had obtained reenforcements, without +doubt, for there seemed to be no end to the pursuing Apaches. + +Blizzard ran like the thoroughbred he was. But even his iron muscles +could not stand the strain for long. The ponies behind were fresh, and +the snow-white charger was tremendously handicapped with the added +weight which had been placed upon it. + +Puffs of white smoke blossomed out behind them. A bullet, spent and +far 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 was +prepared for what followed. It was not his first encounter with +renegade red men of the Southwest. He was also aware of what awaited +them if they were taken captive. Death with lead would be far more +merciful. + +The line of Apache warriors spread out even farther. Blizzard was +speeding over a flat table-land now, flanked by two ridges of iron-gray +hills. A file of Indians separated from the main body and raced along +the left-hand ridge. Another file of copper-brown, half-naked savages +drummed along to the right. + +Rifle fire crackled and flashed. Bullets now began to buzz and whine +like infuriated insects. Arrows, falling far short, whistled an angry +tune. 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. It +ran on courage alone. Its nostrils were expanded wide, its flanks and +neck foam-flecked. The steel muscles rippled under its snowy hide, +until it seemed to fly like a winged thing. But it is one thing to +carry a hundred and sixty pounds; another thing to bear nearly three +hundred. 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 the +Texan's hat. Another burned his side. Directly behind them, Garvey +and his gunmen--the two Arnolds, Henry Shank, and Stephenson--pounded +furiously, gaining at every jump. Their mounts were better than those +of 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 kill +until it was necessary. The Arnolds, however, were out of the chase +for good and all. Stephenson also felt the crippling sting of the +Texan's lead and toppled from his mount, drilled high in the shoulder. + +Henry Shank and Gil Garvey, shaken at The Kid's marksmanship, drew in +their horses, unwilling to press closer. That gave Blizzard his chance +to make the shelter of the arroyo. Suddenly it yawned at their feet--a +terrific jump. Would Blizzard take it? A reassuring pressure of a +knee was all the inspiration the horse needed. They seemed to rush +through the air. Then they were sliding down the bank in a cloud of +dust, Blizzard tense and stiff-legged. By a miracle, they reached the +bottom unhurt, and without losing a second, Kid Wolf headed his +faithful 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 light +with 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 of +Blizzard's stirrups in such a way that it could not jolt out. Then he +gave 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 with +all its speed down the arroyo. It was soon lost to sight among the +mesquites. + +"He'll stay out of sight and within call," explained the Texan. "We +may need him worse than we do now. Anyway, Garvey will have plenty +trouble gettin' that express money." + +They prepared to fight it out until the last, for already the Indians +were forcing their ponies down into the arroyo. A triumphant shout +went up--a shout that became an elated, bloodthirsty war cry. The +Apaches 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 and +leaves flying. Kid Wolf smiled coolly along the barrel of his +remaining 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 same +breath. It faltered, then came on, reenforced. There were too many of +them 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 wanting +to capture them. They came on, a coppery swarm, clubbing their guns. + +There was no time to reload! The two young white men found themselves +fighting hand to hand in desperate battle. Kid Wolf smashed two of the +Indians, sending them sprawling back into their companions with broken +heads. But still they came--dozens of them! + +Robbins was down, then up again. He felt hands seize him. Kid Wolf +felt the impact of a gun stock on his head. The world seemed to sway +crazily. Even while falling to the ground he still fought, his hard +fists landing on the faces and chests of the red warriors in smashing +blows. His feet were seized, then one arm. In vain he tried to tear +himself 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 half +dozen 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 was +happening to him. Half stunned, he was carried, along with Dave +Robbins, out of the arroyo. He was light-headed from the blows he had +received. + +That torture was in store for them, he well knew. He heard Gil +Garvey's voice calling for Yellow Skull. Red faces, smeared with war +paint, glared at him. He was being taken on a pony's back through a +thicket of brush. + +They were up on the mesa again, for he felt the sun burn out and a hot +wind sweep the desert. What were they waiting for? + +Yellow Skull! Kid Wolf had heard of that terrible, insane Apache +chief. He could expect about as much mercy from him as he could from +Garvey. + +Some one was shaking his shoulder. It was the Lost Springs bandit +leader. + +Kid Wolf looked about him. A score or more of warriors, naked save for +breechcloths, stood around in a hostile circle. Garvey was chuckling +and 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, lay +Dave 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 both +over to Yellow Skull! He's got somethin' in store for yuh that'll make +yuh 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 bandit +leader. + +"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 was +horrible, if ever a man was horrible. He was the chief of the renegade +Apache 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 over +his gaunt visage. Above his beaked nose, his beady black eyes +glittered wickedly, and his jagged fangs protruded through his animal +lips. He wore a breechcloth of dirty white, and his chest was naked, +save for two objects--objects terrible enough to send a thrill of +horror through the beholder. Suspended on a long cord around his neck +were two shriveled human hands. Above this was a necklace made of +dried human fingers. + +"Yellow Skull," said Garvey, pointing to Kid Wolf, "meet the man who +slew yore son, Bear Claw!" + +The expression of the chief's face became ghastly. His eyes widened +until they showed rings of white; his nostrils expanded. With a fierce +yell, 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. His +sunburned face paled a bit, but his eyes remained steady. He turned +his head to look at Robbins, who was recovering consciousness. + +"Keep up yo' nerve, son," he comforted. "I'm afraid this is goin' to +be pretty terrible." + +The bonds of the two white men were loosened, and they were pulled to +their 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 of +his neck. It would do him little good, however, to draw it, for he was +hemmed in by the Apaches. He might get two or three, but in the end he +would be beaten down. He was determined, at any rate, to go out +fighting. If he could only bring justice to Garvey before he died, he +would be content. Tensely he waited for the opportune time. + +One of the redskins carried a comb of honey. The Texan knew what that +meant. The most horrible torture that could have been devised by men +awaited them. + +The torture party paused in a clear space in the middle of a high +thicket of mesquite. Here in the sun-baked, packed sand were two ant +hills. + +Kid Wolf had heard of the method before. What Yellow Skull intended to +do was this: The two prisoners would be staked and tied so tightly +over the ant hills that neither could move a muscle. Then their mouths +would be propped open and honey smeared inside. The swarming colonies +of red ants would do the rest. + +For the first time, Dave Robbins seemed to realize what was in store +for 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 the +mesquite thicket, he had caught sight of something white and moving. +It was his horse! Blizzard had followed his master, and stood ready to +do his bidding. + +Already the grinning Apaches were coming forward with the stakes and +ropes. Not a second was to be lost. It was a forlorn hope, but Kid +Wolf knew that he could depend on Blizzard to do his best. Sharp and +clear, the Texan gave the coyote yell!" + +"_Yip-yip-ee!_" + +What happened took place so suddenly that the Apaches never realized +what it all was! Crash! Like a white, avenging ghost horse, the +superb Texas charger leaped out of the mesquite, muscles bunched. It +made the distance to its master's side in two flashing leaps, bowling +over 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 his +neck 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 their +revolvers. + +"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 his +rifle away from him. Clubbing it, he smashed two others as fast as +they dived in. + +Shank rushed, his gun winking spurts of fire. + +Kid Wolf could not spare his enemies now. His own life depended on his +flashing Colt. He lined the tip of his front sight and thumbed the +hammer. + +_Thr-r-r-rup!_ Shank gasped, as lead tore through him. He dropped +headfirst, arms outstretched. + +"Get on the hoss!" The Kid yelled at Robbins. Then he turned his gun +on Garvey. + +In his rage, the Lost Springs desperado fired too quickly. His aim was +bad, 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 the +hammer. The bullet found its mark. If Garvey had no heart, Kid Wolf's +bullet found the spot where it ought to be. With his glazing eyes, Gil +Garvey--wholesale murderer--saw justice at last. Dropping his gun, he +swayed 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 long +leather thong, to which was attached a round stone. A second more, and +Kid Wolf's skull would have been smashed! + +A burst of flame stopped him. The chief sagged, dropped. The Kid had +fired just as the stone was whirled aloft. The Indians, now that their +chief and white allies had fallen, retreated. The almost miraculous +appearance of the horse had dismayed them and filled them with +superstitious fear. A few more shots served to scatter them and send +them flying for cover. Kid Wolf vaulted into the saddle. Robbins was +already on Blizzard's back. + +"Heads low!" sang out the Texan. + +He headed the horse for the mesquites. Crashing through them, they +found themselves on the mesa plain once more. Kid Wolf urged Blizzard +to greater speed. Bullets buzzed around them, but it was evident that +the Apaches had lost heart. Blizzard pounded on, and the cries behind +soon grew fainter and fainter. Kid Wolf relaxed a little and grinned. + +"That's what I'd call a narrow squeak," he chuckled. "How far to +Mexican 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. Whether +the Indians feared to approach any nearer to the government post, or +whether they had given up through superstitious fear, would have been +hard 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 Mexican +Tanks, scattered out in a fertile, cottonwood-grown valley. With one +accord, they shook hands. + +"Now will yo' believe me," asked the Texan, "when I tell yo' that +Blizzahd'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 me +any good, Kid, to thank yuh." + +"Don't try," drawled The Kid. "I'm a soldier of misfohtune, and +excitement'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 good +luck!" + +"Yuh won't come along?" + +Kid Wolf shook his head and smiled. + +"I'm just a rollin' stone," he confessed, "and I just naturally roll +toward trouble. If yo' evah need me again, yo'll find me where the +lead flies thickest. As soon as I turn this express money ovah to the +authorities, 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 of +the Pecos and see what I can see. Quien sabe?" + +Blizzard cocked his ears and turned his head to look his master in the +eye. Blizzard savvied. He was "in the know." + + + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Kid Wolf of Texas, by Ward M. 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