Part 3 (1/2)
The Spanish captain, after his first gasp of surprise, had nothing to say. Chagrin and disgust were written over his face. If ever a man was crestfallen, the captain was. He hated to be made a fool of, and this quiet man from Texas had certainly accomplished it.
He was about to slink off when Kid Wolf drawled after him:
”Oh, captain! Pahdon, but haven't yo' forgotten somethin'?”
”What do you mean?” snapped the other.
”Yo' were goin' to pay for this man's sombrero, I believe,” said Kid Wolf softly, ”in gold.”
”Bah!” snarled the officer. ”That I refuse to do!”
The Texan's hand snapped down to his right Colt. A blaze of flame leaped from the region of his hip. Along with the cras.h.i.+ng roar of the explosion came a sharp, metallic tw.a.n.g.
The bullet had neatly clipped away the captain's belt buckle! A yell of laughter rang out on all sides. For the captain's trousers, suddenly unsupported, slipped down nearly to his knees. With a cry of dismay, the disgruntled officer seized them frantically and held them up.
”Reach down in those,” drawled the Texan, ”and see if yo' can't find that piece of gold!”
The officer, white with rage in which hearty fear was mingled, obeyed with alacrity, pulling out a gold coin and handing it, with an oath, to the peon whose hat he had ruined.
”_Muchas gracias_,” murmured Kid Wolf, reholstering his gun. ”And now, if the fun's ovah, I must bid yo' _buenas tardes_. Adios!”
And doffing his big hat, the Texan took his departure with a sweeping bow, leaving the captain glaring furiously after him.
CHAPTER III
THE GOVERNOR'S ANSWER
Judging that it was almost time for his interview with the governor, Kid Wolf saddled Blizzard in the public _establo_, or stable, and rode at once to the governor's palace.
Although it did not occur to him that Quiroz would reject his plea for aid, he was filled with foreboding. He had a premonition that made him uneasy, although there seemed nothing at which to be alarmed.
Dismounting, he walked up the stone flags toward the presidio entrance--a huge, grated door guarded by two flas.h.i.+ly dressed but barefooted soldiers. They nodded for him to pa.s.s, and the Texan found himself in a long, half-lighted pa.s.sage. Another guard directed him into the office of Governor Quiroz, and Kid Wolf stepped through another carved door, hat in hand.
He found that he had entered a large, cool room, lighted softly by windows of brightly colored gla.s.s and barred with wrought iron. The tiles of the floor were in black-and-white design, and the place was bare of furniture, except at one end, where a large desk stood.
Behind it, in a chair of rich mahogany, sat an impressive figure. It was the governor.
While bowing politely, the Texan searched the pale face of the man of whom he had heard so much. By looking at him, he thought he discovered why Quiroz was so feared by the oppressed people of the district. Iron strength showed itself in the official's aristocratic features.
There was something there besides power. Quiroz had eyes that were mysterious and deep. Not even the Texan could read the secrets they masked. Cruelty might lurk there, perhaps, or friendliness--who could say? At the governor's soft-spoken invitation, Kid Wolf took a chair near the huge desk.
”Your business with me, senor?” asked the official in smoothly spoken English.
Kid Wolf spoke respectfully, although he did not fawn over the dignitary or lose his own quiet self-a.s.sertion. He was an American.
He told of finding the tortured prospector and of the plight of the approaching wagon train.
”If they continue on the course they are followin', guv'nor,” he concluded, ”they'll nevah reach Santa Fe. And I have every reason to believe that The Terror plans to raid them.”
”And what,” asked the governor pleasantly, ”do you expect me to do?”
”I thought, sah,” Kid Wolf replied, ”that yo' would let me return to them with a company of yo' soldiers.”