Part 25 (2/2)

Very quietly The Kid dismounted. The saddle shop was not far away. He strolled toward it, wading through the sand that reached nearly to his ankles. He paused in the doorway, and the hammering sound suddenly ceased.

”_Buenos dias_,” drawled the Texan.

The man in the shop was Goliday! He had whirled about like a cat. The hammer slipped from his right hand and dropped to the hard-packed earth floor with a thud.

Kid Wolf's eyes went from Goliday's dark, amazed face, with its shock of black hair, down to his boots. They were low-heeled, square-toed boots, embellished with scrolls done in red thread. The Kid's quiet glance traveled again back to Goliday's startled countenance. Dismay and fury were mingled there. Kid Wolf had made no movement toward his guns. His hands were relaxed easily at his sides. He was smiling.

Goliday's ivory-handled gun was in his pistol holster. His hand moved a few inches toward it. Then it stopped. Goliday hesitated. Face to face with the show-down, he was afraid.

”Well,” the ranchman's words came slowly, ”what do yuh want with me?”

”I want yo',” said The Kid in a voice ringing like a sledge on solid steel, ”fo' the murdah of the ownah of the S Bar!”

”Bah!” sneered Goliday, but a strange look crossed his dark eyes. His legs were trembling a little, either from excitement or nervousness.

”Yo're loco,” he added. ”My men are in town or I'd have yuh rode off of my place on a rail!”

”Goliday,” snapped Kid Wolf crisply, ”the man who shot Thomas down, wore low-heeled, square-toed boots.”

”Yuh can't convict a man on that,” replied the ranchman with a forced laugh.

”No?” The Kid drawled. ”Well, that isn't all. The man who fired the death shot used a very peculiah revolvah--very peculiar. The caliber was .45. Wait a moment--a .45 with unusual riflin'.”

”Yo're crazy,” said Goliday, but his face was pale.

”By examinin' the cahtridge,” continued the Texan in a dangerous voice, ”I found that the fatal gun had five grooves and five lands. The usual six-shootah has six grooves and six lands. Let me see yo' gun, sah!”

The command came like a whip-crack and little drops of perspiration stood out suddenly on Goliday's ashen forehead.

”It's a lie,” he stammered. ”I----”

”Yo' had bettah confess, Goliday. The game's up. Majah Stovah died early this mohnin' from heart trouble. Goliday, yo' can do just two things. The choice is up to yo'.'”

”The choice?” repeated the rancher mechanically.

”Yes, yo' can surrendah--and in that case, I'll turn yo' ovah to the nearest law, if it's a thousand miles away. Or--yo' can shoot it out with me heah and now. It's up to yo'.”

”Yuh wanted to see my gun,” said Goliday, with a sudden, deadly laugh.

”All right, I'll show yuh what's in it!”

Like a flash his hairy right hand shot down toward the ivory-handled Colt.

The ranchman's hand touched the handle before Kid Wolf made even a move toward his own weapons. Goliday's eager, fear-accelerated fingers snapped the hammer back. The gun slid half out of its holster as he tipped it up.

There was a noise in the little adobe like a thunderclap! A red pencil of flame streaked out between the two men. Then the smoke rolled out, dense and choking. _Thud!_ A gun dropped to the hard, dirt floor.

Goliday groped out with his two empty hands for support. His face was distorted. A long gasp came from his lips. A round dot had suddenly appeared two inches left of his breast bone. He dropped heavily, grunting as he struck the ground.

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