He realized his former vision of himself, booted, sombreroed, and revolvered, passing his days in the saddle and the better part of his nights around the poker tables in Modoc's one saloon. To his intense satisfaction he even involved himself in a gun fight that arose over a disputed brand, with the result that two fingers of his left hand were shot away.

The Texan quietly aroused some of the men and led them to one of the wagons. "I want yo'-all to see fo' yo'selves," he explained. The wagon was Modoc's own, and they entered it. The ex-wagon-train commander had a shielded lantern burning inside, and he was in the act of eating a big supper! When he saw that he had visitors, he tried to reach the gun belt he had hung up at one end of the wagon.

Beads of perspiration stood out on his clammy forehead. "Afraid to draw like a man?" the Texan drawled. "I wouldn't doubt it. Men, this man is a betrayah. He is one of The Terror's bandits. That's why he led yo' off the track. He brought yo' here to die like rats." Modoc's face was blue-white as Kid Wolf continued: "When I first showed up, Modoc thought I might be one of The Terror's messengahs.

Modoc's face went the color of putty. Like a flash, the insolence had gone out of his eyes, to be replaced with fear. He moistened his lips feverishly. "I I don't know what yo're talkin' about," he stammered. "Are yo' sure," said Kid Wolf with deadly quietness, "that the moon won't be red?" Modoc began to tremble like a leaf. His gun hand moved part way to his hip, then stopped.

But Kid Wolf kept firing, although he did not aim for Modoc's head or body. His gun flashed and stuttered twice, three times, four five six! Dust flew from Modoc's coat sleeve as the bullets landed with a series of terrific smashes. As he had torn the rattlesnake bit by bit, Kid Wolf ripped Modoc's gun arm.

Mah two guns are at yo' service, and if The Terror strikes, I'll help yo' fight." The advance guard heard him out. Unbelief was written on all their faces. "I think yuh'd better take Modoc's advice," one of them said finally, "and git! We can take care of ourselves." His heart heavy, Kid Wolf shrugged and turned away.

It was Modoc's little private supply. "We'll divide it up with everybody in the mohnin'," suggested the Texan, "with a double allowance fo' the children and the women." The wagon men were so furious at Modoc's selfishness that they could have torn him to pieces. Kid Wolf, however, prevented the trouble that was brewing. "Every one to their blankets, men," he said.