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For in order to draw the gun that swung at his hip, Blacksnake would first have to drop his implement of torture. "Heah's wheah yo' get it!" snapped The Kid crisply. Blacksnake's eyes bulged with sudden, startled terror, for he had a glimpse of the shining blade for one brief instant. His whip hand moved toward the butt of his gun. But he was too late.
Now the old post was hollow its whole length, but halfway there was an old knothole just big enough for Danny to squeeze through. Mr. Blacksnake didn't know anything about that hole, and because it was dark inside the old post, he didn't see Danny pop through it. Danny ran back along the top of the log and was just in time to see the tip of Mr. Blacksnake's tail disappear inside.
He drifted into the underworld haunts where his name had at one time been a terror. But now, he could see, his approach no longer resulted in that discreet scurry to cover, that feverish scuttling away for safety, which marks the blacksnake's progress through a gopher-village.
In the quick scuffle, the Big Colt slipped from Blacksnake's holster and fell to the ground. With all his fury now, the outlaw was lashing terrific, belting swings at Kid Wolf's head. The Texan dodged, elusive as a shadow. He leaped in, bored with his right and jolted Blacksnake from top to toe with a smashing left. The big outlaw staggered, then jumped back and tried to scoop up his gun.
"Go into the dobe with the others," he commanded gruffly. The walls of one of the mud huts had crumbled utterly. Only one of them was habitable, and it was to this one that the outlaw went, with Blacksnake and Kid Wolf following close behind. A yell greeted Blacksnake's arrival with his supposed prisoner.
Presently he came to a turn in the Crooked Little Path, and as he hurried around it, he almost ran into Mr. Blacksnake himself. It was a question which was more surprised. For just a wee second they stared at each other. Then Mr. Blacksnake's eyes began to sparkle. "Good morning, Mr. Toad. Isn't this a beautiful morning? I was just thinking about you," said he. But poor Old Mr.
There was a quick finger of orange-colored fire and a puff of smoke. The top chip of Blacksnake's stack suddenly had disappeared, neatly clipped off by The Kid's bullet. And the Texan had shot casually from the hip, apparently without taking aim! Kid Wolf returned his still-smoking gun to its holster, turned his back and sauntered leisurely toward the door. Halfway to it, he turned quickly.
I knew we'd get yuh sooner or later, if yuh kept stickin' yore nose in other folks' business." "Blacksnake," said The Kid softly, "yo're a cheap, fo'-flushin' bully." Blacksnake's evil eyes went hard. His face reddened with anger, then paled. He was trembling with fury and deadly hate. He turned to his men. "Take the others up to the Yellow Houses and wait for me there," he rasped.
Taking a deep breath, Kid Wolf walked over and picked up Blacksnake's .45. Then he turned the outlaw face up, none too gently, by jerking his tangled hair. "All right. Snap out of it," he drawled. Blacksnake was out for a full two minutes. Gradually consciousness began to show on his ugly, bruised face. He stared at the Texan, blinking his eyes in bewilderment.
"Yuh know as well as we do that yo're one o' Blacksnake's thievin' gunmen!" "What makes yo' think so?" the Texan laughed. The other opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. He was looking The Kid up and down. "Come to think about it," he muttered, "we've never seen you before. And yuh don't look like one o' that rustler gang." "Take my word fo' it," said the Texan earnestly, "I'm not.
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