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The Kid took a firmer hold on the wriggling half-breed. "Do yo' know this man?" he demanded of the proprietor. Hardy turned in annoyance, his black brows elevated sarcastically. "It's 'Tucumcari Pete," he mocked. "What is it to yuh?" Looking at the faro lookout, perched on his high stool, he winked. The lookout returned it knowingly. Kid Wolf's eyes blazed.

"Fo'teen thousand two hundred dollahs," he announced finally. "The odd fo' thousand, two hundred will go to the families of the men yo' murdahed yestahday. And now, Mistah Jack Hahdy, my personal business with yo' will be " He did not finish. The door of the little office had suddenly opened, and Tucumcari Pete stood in the entrance!

The Kid could draw and hurl, if necessary, that gleaming blade as rapidly as he could pull his 45s. His hand darted up and back. Something glittered in the air for just a breath, and there was a singing twang! Tucumcari Pete gasped. His weird cry ended in a gurgle. He lowered his rifle and teetered on his feet. The flying knife had found its mark the half-breed's throat!

He had told his story so that all could hear. None had paid it any attention. All these men, then, were dishonest and unfriendly toward law and order. "I want yo' to understand me," he said in a voice he tried to make patient. "This hombre Tucumcari Pete, yo've called him shot and killed a man from ambush. Isn't there any law heah?"

There was one thing, however, that Kid Wolf was not aware of, and that was a pair of beady black eyes watching him from behind a prairie-dog hill! One of the renegade half-breeds had managed to slip away from the posse unseen. It was Tucumcari Pete, and in a draw a few yards away was his pony. Jack Hardy was annoyed.

Using quick, almost superhuman strength, he picked up the half-breed by the neck and one leg and hurled him, like a thunderbolt, into the group at the faro table! Tucumcari Pete's wild yell was drowned out by the tremendous crash of splintering wood and thudding flesh, as the half-breed's body hurtled through the air to smash Jack Hardy down to the floor with the impact.

The keen-pointed blade had buried itself nearly to the guard! Clawing at the steel, Tucumcari staggered, then dropped to the floor with his clattering rifle. His body jerked for a moment, then stiffened. Justice had dealt with a murderer. "The thirteenth ace," The Kid drawled softly, "is always in the deck!" But Hardy had taken advantage of Tucumcari's interruption.