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In a few moments he had breathed his last, released from his pain. Kid Wolf removed the bandanna from his own throat and placed it over the dead man's face. Then he weighted it down with small rocks and turned to go. "Just about the time I get to thinkin' the world is good, Blizzahd," he sighed, addressing his white horse, "I find somethin' like this.
Kid Wolf realized that he had quite a problem on his hands. 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."
This seems to be the biggest one. Shall we stop heah, Blizzahd?" There seemed to be no choice in the matter. One 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.
"Well," sighed Kid Wolf, "I hope Blizzahd has enjoyed his dinnah as much as I've enjoyed mine. He deserves it!" "What a wonderful horse!" cried Ma Thomas. "And to think that if he hadn't ran so fast, those terrible men " Her voice broke off. "Now don't yo' worry of that any mo'," drawled The Kid with a smile. "Yo' troubles are ovah, I hope." The Kid occupied the seat of honor, at Mrs.
The Texan's grave still waited! A thin bank of clouds rolled up to obscure somewhat the light of the moon. This was what Kid Wolf had been waiting for. It was their only chance. "I'm goin' to try and get through on foot," he whispered. "Befo' I go, I'll unloose Blizzahd. He's trained to follow, and he'll find me latah, if I make it.
Straining their eyes, they saw a white something moving up an arroyo. "That Blizzahd hoss is smahter than I am," chuckled the Texan. "He knows who his enemies are, and he knows how to keep out of their sight. Watch him climb that dry wash." They held their breath until Blizzard, moving so noiselessly that his hoofs seemed as cushioned as a cougar's, reached the top of the hill.
It was as if he had weighed the veiled threat in the town's sign and found it grimly humorous instead of sinister. The big white horse threw up its shapely head in a gesture of impatience that was almost human. "All right, Blizzahd," approved its rider. "Into Skull, New Mexico, we go!"
And I guess Blizzahd and I are ready to see this thing through to the end." Kid Wolf was riding on his white horse alongside the rumbling stage. The only member of the drafted posse who had stayed was driving the vehicle, and beside him on the box rode the two Robbinses, father and son. The road to Lost Springs was not the direct route the Indian messenger had taken.
His even teeth showed white against the deep sunburn of his face. "Reckon we-all bettah cut south, Blizzahd," he murmured to his horse. "We haven't got any business on the Llano." He spoke in the soft accents of the old South, and yet his speech was colored with just a trace of Spanish a musical drawl seldom heard far from that portion of Texas bordering the Rio Bravo del Norte.
Impossible! And yet he had seen no one. The Kid hoped that Goliday was not in town. A desert wash led its twisting way to one side of him, and he saw that by following its course he could reach the trees about the water hole unobserved. "Easy, Blizzahd," he said softly. The sand deadened the sound of the big white horse's hoofs as it took the dry wash at a speedy clip.
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