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Across the wide street, over the Idle Hour Saloon, a man was dangling, suspended from the roof by a rope! It was Durham the man who had given Kid Wolf the cigarette-paper note. Some one had seen him in the act, and the fiends had lynched him. "That settles it," said Kid Wolf grimly, turning to McCay. "I reckon I'm throwin' in with yo'. My guns are at yo' service!"

The Kid pulled Hardy's .44 from its holster beneath the saloon man's black coat. "Next thing," he drawled, "I want yo' to take that body down from in front o' yo' do'." Kid Wolf referred to the corpse of the unfortunate McCay spy whom Hardy had hanged. It still hung outside the Idle Hour, blocking the door. The Texan made him get a box, stand on it and loosen the rope from the dead man's neck.

And now, even although handicapped and outnumbered, he planned to strike. The stolen herd represented a small fortune, and rightfully belonged to Tip McCay and his mother. But where were the longhorns now? Tip's suggestion was helpful. He thought the cattle could not be more than a few miles below. They quickly decided to ride south, and Tip and The Kid led the way.

He had been diffident when he teed off with McCay in the first round, but, finding that he defeated the secretary with ease, he met one Butler in the second round with more confidence. Butler, too, he routed; with the result that, by the time he faced Sigsbee in round three, he was practically the conquering hero. Fortune seemed to be beaming upon him with almost insipid sweetness.

'Well, I don't see what we can do, said Sigsbee. 'We can hardly be expected to foozle on purpose, just to let Archie show off before his girl. McCay paused in the act of lighting his cigar, as one smitten with a great thought. 'Why not? he said. 'Why not, Sigsbee? Sigsbee, you've hit it. 'Eh? 'You have! I tell you, Sigsbee, you've solved the whole thing.

It was not long after the discovery of Durham's murder when Tip McCay brought in a new note that had been pinned to the door. "It was put there durin' the night some time, probably by one o' Hardy's sneakin' half-breeds, because none o' our sentries saw any one the whole night through," Tip said.

When the smoke cleared away, Tip McCay emitted a whoop that the others echoed. The charge had been stopped, and very effectively. The big beam lay on the ground, with the writhing bodies of four men around it. The "scatter gun" had accounted for three of them; Kid Wolf had put the other out of business with bullets through both legs.

Kid Wolf watched, his face white under his sunburn. Up to the very door of the Hardy refuge, the old man walked, his guns hammering claps of thunder. Hit several times in the body, he sprawled once and fell, but was on his feet again before the smoke drifted away. He plunged through the door, and The Kid saw two men drop under his blazing guns. Then McCay, too, fell for the last time.

The Hardy faction began shooting then, but it was too late. Bullets hummed over the heads of the escaping riders, but not one found its mark. Kid Wolf found himself riding alongside Tip McCay. The others had taken different routes. The sounds of guns behind them were rapidly growing fainter, and they were hidden by the pitch darkness.

True, he had beaten McCay, Sigsbee, and Butler in the earlier rounds; but they were ignoble rivals compared with Gossett. To defeat Gossett, however, meant the championship. On the other hand, he was passionately devoted to Margaret Milsom, whom he was due to meet at the end of the board-walk at one sharp. It was now five minutes to one, and the end of the board-walk still a mile away.