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twg_000012928300 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928301 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928302 | 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' | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928303 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928304 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928305 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928306 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928307 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928308 | 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!" | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928309 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928310 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928311 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928312 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928313 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928314 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928315 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928316 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928317 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928318 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928319 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928320 | 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," | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928321 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928322 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928323 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928324 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928325 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928326 | 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!" 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928327 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928328 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928329 | 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," | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928330 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928331 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928332 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928333 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928334 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928335 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928336 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928337 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928338 | 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," | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928339 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928340 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928341 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928342 | 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." | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928343 | "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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928344 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928345 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928346 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928347 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928348 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928349 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928350 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928351 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928352 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928353 | 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 . as it left the holster. The play, however, was not worked fast enough. Kid Wolf was not to be victimized by such | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928354 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928355 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928356 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928357 | 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!" | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928358 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928359 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928360 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928361 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928362 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928363 | a light-gray shirt. Beneath the former peeped the ivory handle of a .. "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' | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928364 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928365 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928366 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928367 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928368 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928369 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928370 | "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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928371 | 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. DESPERATE MEASURES Nightfall found the quartet established in the S Bar bunk house. The joyful thanks of Ma Thomas was enough reward | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928372 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928373 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928374 | victim of an assassin's bullet. The Kid obtained the bullet that had taken the old rancher's life. It was a . 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928375 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928376 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928377 | "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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928378 | cards. Boldness might win. I want yo' hombres to be in Mariposa the day _pasado_ maana." "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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928379 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928380 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928381 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928382 | "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--maana--and many days after maana. Kid Wolf was up very early the next morning, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928383 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928384 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928385 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928386 | 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 maana morning." Kid Wolf hit the trail for Mexico at a hammer-and-tongs gallop. The Mexican town of Mariposa was scattered over ten | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928387 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928388 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928389 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928390 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928391 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928392 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928393 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928394 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928395 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928396 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928397 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928398 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928399 | Wolf. The gambler stared. The Texan had placed a . 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
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