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twg_000012928600 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928601 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928602 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928603 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928604 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928605 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928606 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928607 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928608 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928609 | "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." | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928610 | "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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928611 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928612 | 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. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928613 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928614 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928615 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928616 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928617 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928618 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928619 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928620 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928621 | 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 . when the Texan's first blow landed. Blacksnake was burly, powerful. He weighed | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928622 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928623 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928624 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928625 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928626 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928627 | 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 .. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928628 | 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' | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928629 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928630 | 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 .! In his left | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928631 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928632 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928633 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928634 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928635 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928636 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928637 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928638 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928639 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928640 | 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 .! "Shoot | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928641 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928642 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928643 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928644 | 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._" | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928645 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928646 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928647 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928648 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928649 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928650 | 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. BATTLE ON THE MESA "Oh, the cowboy sings so mournful on the Rio! To the dark night | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928651 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928652 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928653 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928654 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928655 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928656 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928657 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928658 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928659 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928660 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928661 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928662 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928663 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928664 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928665 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928666 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928667 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928668 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928669 | 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' | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928670 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928671 | 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, Jos, forgotten to lock the gate? Surely he had heard the chain rattling! Some horse, no doubt, or | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928672 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928673 | one were moving about. "Jos!" 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928674 | under his pillow. Again he went to the door, putting his hand on the knob. "Jos! Come here!" he cried, with an oath. The door swung open, and the lamplight shone on a human face--a face that was not Jos's, but a stern white one with glinting blue eyes! "Jos can't come," said a voice in a soft drawl. "He's | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928675 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928676 | 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'," | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928677 | 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 .. Gentleman John obeyed. "My men will kill yuh fer this!" he raged. "Yo' haven't any men, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928678 | 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' | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928679 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928680 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928681 | 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," | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928682 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928683 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928684 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928685 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928686 | 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' | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928687 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928688 | 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." APACHES In the half light of the early morning, a stagecoach was rattling down a steep hill near the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928689 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928690 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928691 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928692 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928693 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928694 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928695 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928696 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928697 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928698 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012928699 | 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 . Colt. "But we ain't--goin' to sell out--cheap!" the driver panted. Escape | 60 | gutenberg |
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