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twg_000012928500 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928501 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928502 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928503 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928504 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928505 | 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 . holes. Kid Wolf was by no means impressed. He | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928506 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928507 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928508 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928509 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928510 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928511 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928512 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928513 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928514 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928515 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928516 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928517 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928518 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928519 | "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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928520 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928521 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928522 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928523 | my gun, if I were yo'." Blacksnake took his hand away from the butt of his .. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928524 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928525 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928526 | 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." | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928527 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928528 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928529 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928530 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928531 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928532 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928533 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928534 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928535 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928536 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928537 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928538 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928539 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928540 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928541 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928542 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928543 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928544 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928545 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928546 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928547 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928548 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928549 | 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 pion-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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928550 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928551 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928552 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928553 | 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 .. He knew by the sound | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928554 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928555 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928556 | The men, whoever they were, were shooting in the direction of the riderless horse. Squirming through a little pion 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928557 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928558 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928559 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928560 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928561 | "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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928562 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928563 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928564 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928565 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928566 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928567 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928568 | 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," | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928569 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928570 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928571 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928572 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928573 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928574 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928575 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928576 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928577 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928578 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928579 | raced toward the sod hut. None of them was prepared for the terrible thing they found there. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928580 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928581 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928582 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928583 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928584 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928585 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928586 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928587 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928588 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928589 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928590 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928591 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928592 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928593 | 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 .. "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'?" | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928594 | "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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928595 | 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." | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928596 | "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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928597 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928598 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928599 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
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