Part 7 (1/2)

”Is it The Terror?” one of them questioned, paling.

”It is,” replied Kid Wolf. ”We must act quickly.”

In a few minutes men were pouring out of the wagons, weapons in their hands. It was just light enough now to see. Modoc ran out of his wagon, strapping on his Colt .45 as he came. He advanced toward the Texan sneeringly. The others gathered about to see what would happen.

Something in Kid Wolf's eyes warned them of impending trouble.

”What's the idea now?” Modoc snarled, showing his stained teeth like a wolf. ”Has this four-flusher been up to his tricks again?”

Kid Wolf's voice came cool and calm. ”Modoc,” he drawled, ”what color will the moon be to-night?”

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. 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. I didn't come through with the pa.s.sword, and he learned different. I didn't know what he meant, then, but I know now!”

The wagon men surged around Modoc threateningly. Fury was written over the faces of them all. There were cries of ”Kill him!” ”Hang the traitor!”

Kid Wolf still faced the fear-frozen Modoc, smiling coolly. There was quiet menace in that easy smile.

”I usually shoot the head off a rattlesnake when I see one,” he said softly. ”One day, yeahs ago, a rattlah killed a favorite dawg of mine.

I blew that snake apart, bit by bit. Modoc, that snake was a gentleman alongside of yo'. I'm givin' yo' an even chance to kill me. Fill yo'

hand!”

Modoc, with a wheezing, gasping breath, decided upon action. His hand streaked for his hip. But Kid Wolf had drawn a split second later and more than a split second faster. The fingers of his right hand closed upon the handle of one of his twin Colts. In the same instant, fire flew!

With the first explosion, Modoc grunted with pain, dropping his gun.

The bullet had caught him squarely in the wrist, rendering his fingers useless. 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.

Each bullet took effect, and Modoc staggered from the impacts, knees slumping to the ground. The traitor would never use that gun arm again. It dangled from his body, broken and useless. The others would have literally torn Modoc limb from limb had not the Texan ordered otherwise.

”He doesn't deserve hangin',” he said, ”so let him be. We've got work to do. The Terror and his gang will be here at any minute. Now listen carefully to what I say.”

Quietly he gave his orders, and just as carefully, the wagon men carried them out. Under Kid Wolf's masterly leaders.h.i.+p they had regained their nerve. Panic left them, and they became grim and determined.

The Kid learned that there were thirty-four men in the outfit.

Thirty-four against at least a hundred! The odds were great, but the Texan had faced greater ones alone. With the train in the hands of Modoc--one of their own men--the marauders expected to take the outfit by surprise. Thanks to the Texan, all that was changed now. He gave orders that the wagons be s.h.i.+fted into a circle, with the children and women on the inside behind shelter. The men were posted in the wagons and behind them, Kid Wolf giving each man his station.

”Do not fiah until I give the coyote yell,” he said. ”And then keep yo' sights down. Shoot low!”