Part 8 (1/2)

Separated from his men, The Terror turned in his saddle, wildly attempting to get the drop on Kid Wolf as he came in. One of his gold-mounted pistols flashed. The bullet hissed over the Texan's head.

He had dropped low in the saddle.

The Terror whirled his horse at Kid Wolf's. He realized that it was a fight to the end. He fired his other weapon almost in the Texan's face. The Kid, however, had pulled the trigger of his own gun just a fraction of a second before. The Terror's aim was spoiled just enough so that the bullet whined wide. The bandit chief collapsed in his saddle. He had been hit in the shoulder.

The Texan closed in. There was a violent shock as Blizzard thudded into the bandit's horse. The Terror, eyes glittering wickedly through the openings in his velvet mask, slid from his horse, landing feet first. With a glittering knife in his unwounded hand, he made a spring toward Kid Wolf. The blade would have buried itself in the Texan's thigh had not The Kid whirled his horse just in time.

”All right,” said the Texan coolly. ”We have it out with ouah hands.”

Holstering his guns, he leaped from his horse. He scorned even to use his bowie knife, as he advanced toward the bandit at a half crouch.

The Terror thought he had the advantage. The Kid's hands were bare of any weapons. With a snarl, the bandit chief leaped forward, knife swis.h.i.+ng aloft. Never had Kid Wolf struck so hard a blow as he struck then! Added to the power of his own tremendous strength and leverage was The Terror's own speed as he lunged in. Fist met jaw with a sickening thud.

The Terror was a big and heavy man. His weight was added to Kid Wolf's as both men came together. There was a snap as his head went back--went back at too great an angle. His neck was broken instantly.

Without a moan, the bandit chief dropped limply to the sand, dead before he ever reached it!

Kid Wolf took a deep breath. Then he bent over the fallen man and jerked the velvet mask from his features. He gasped in amazement. It was Quiroz! For a moment the Texan could not believe his eyes. Then the truth began to dawn on him. The Terror and the tyrannical governor of Santa Fe were one and the same! Quiroz had led a double life for years, and had covered his tracks well. So powerful had he become that he had received the appointment as governor. No wonder he had refused Kid Wolf aid! And no wonder he had sought his life!

”Well, I guess his account is paid,” said Kid Wolf grimly. ”The Terror of the Staked Plains is no more.”

He looked about him. The remainder of the bandits had made a thorough retreat, leaving a large number of their companions on the plain behind them. Their defeat had been complete and decisive.

”_Bueno_,” said Kid Wolf.

”Oh, the cows stampede on the Rio Grande!

The Rio!

The sand do blow, and the winds do wail, But I want to be wheah the cactus stands!

The Rio!

And the rattlesnake shakes his ornery tail!”

The buckskin-clad singer raised his hat in happy farewell. The people of the wagon train answered his shout:

”Sh.o.r.e yo' won't go on with us?”

”We sh.o.r.e thank yuh for what yuh done, Kid!”

Others took up the cry. They hated to lose this smiling young Texan's company. He had saved them from death--and worse. Not only that, but they had learned to like him and depend on him.

The Texan, however, declined to stay longer. Nor would he listen to any thanks.

”Adios,” he called, ”and good luck! Wheahevah the weakah side needs a champion, theah yo'll find Kid Wolf. Somehow I always find lots to do.

Heah's hopin' yo' won't evah need mah services again.”

He caught sight of a golden-haired child beaming at him from one of the wagons.

”Good-by, Jimmy Lee!” he called.

He whirled in his saddle, touched Blizzard with the reins, and rode away at a long lope.