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The game's up. Majah Stovah died early this mohnin' from heart trouble. Goliday, yo' can do just two things. The choice is up to yo'." "The choice?" repeated the rancher mechanically. "Yes, yo' can surrendah and in that case, I'll turn yo' ovah to the nearest law, if it's a thousand miles away. Or yo' can shoot it out with me heah and now. It's up to yo'."
He was smiling. Goliday's ivory-handled gun was in his pistol holster. His hand moved a few inches toward it. Then it stopped. Goliday hesitated. Face to face with the show-down, he was afraid. "Well," the ranchman's words came slowly, "what do yuh want with me?" "I want yo'," said The Kid in a voice ringing like a sledge on solid steel, "fo' the murdah of the ownah of the S Bar!"
"Yuh wanted to see my gun," said Goliday, with a sudden, deadly laugh. "All right, I'll show yuh what's in it!" Like a flash his hairy right hand shot down toward the ivory-handled Colt. The ranchman's hand touched the handle before Kid Wolf made even a move toward his own weapons. Goliday's eager, fear-accelerated fingers snapped the hammer back.
"By examinin' the cahtridge," continued the Texan in a dangerous voice, "I found that the fatal gun had five grooves and five lands. The usual six-shootah has six grooves and six lands. Let me see yo' gun, sah!" The command came like a whip-crack and little drops of perspiration stood out suddenly on Goliday's ashen forehead. "It's a lie," he stammered. "Yo' had bettah confess, Goliday.
There were five grooves and five lands, which are the spaces between the grooves, the uncut metal. Goliday, with a bullet just below his heart, was not quite dead. He realized what had happened. He was done for. Rapidly, as if afraid that he could not finish what he wished to say, he began to speak: "Yuh were right. I killed Thomas. I wanted the S Bar. I'm afraid to go like this, Kid Wolf.
Yuh ought to have 'em across the Rio by sunup. Theah won't be any pursuit. Don Floristo isn't in any position to ordah it. I'll see yo'-all at Ma Thomas' dinnah table." "Where are you goin', Kid?" Lathum asked in astonishment. "Harry will help yo' get the cattle home," said The Kid. "I'm ridin' like all get-out to make Mistah Goliday, Esquiah, a social call." "But why " Wise began.
"I've just remembahed," drawled The Kid, "wheah I saw a pair of low-heeled, square-toed ridin' boots." Anton gave a low whistle. "By golly, boys. He's right! I remember now, too." "So do I!" ejaculated Lathum. "How about lettin' us go, too?" asked Wise. "Goliday has some hard hombres workin' for him, and " "Please leave this to me," begged The Kid. "Yo' duty is heah with these cattle.
Goliday took his hand away from the butt of his ivory-handled gun. The Texan had pulled his other revolver with the bewildering speed of a magician. Goliday was covered, "plumb center." "That's our answah, sah!" The Kid snapped. Goliday's sallow face was red with rage. "I have power here!" he rasped. "And yuh'll hear from me!
"Bah!" sneered Goliday, but a strange look crossed his dark eyes. His legs were trembling a little, either from excitement or nervousness. "Yo're loco," he added. "My men are in town or I'd have yuh rode off of my place on a rail!" "Goliday," snapped Kid Wolf crisply, "the man who shot Thomas down, wore low-heeled, square-toed boots."
"Are you the hombre that caused all the stir back in San Felipe?" "What can I do fo' yo'?" asked the Texan briefly. "Well," said Goliday, "let's be friends. I'll be quite frank. I want the S Bar. Is it true yo're goin' there to run the place for the old woman?" "It is," The Kid told him. "I'll pay yuh well to let the place alone," offered Goliday after a pause.
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