CHAPTER II
A THANKLESS TASK
Modoc waited, as if for an answer, and when it did not come, his facetook on an expression of anger, in which cunning seemed to be mingled.
"What's yore message?" he rasped.
It took Kid Wolf several seconds to recover his composure. Was thewagon train being led to its doom by a madman? What did Modoc mean byhis low-voiced, mysterious query? Or did he mean anything at all? TheTexan put it down as the raving of a mind unbalanced by hardship andperil.
"I suppose yo'-all know," he drawled loudly enough for them all tohear, "that yo're on the most dangerous paht of the Llano, and thatyo're off the road to Santa Fe."
"Yo're a liar!" the train commander snarled.
Kid Wolf tried to keep his anger from mounting. This was the thanks hegot for trying to help these people!
"I'll prove it," sighed the kid patiently. "What rivah was that yo'crossed a few days ago?"
"Why, the Red River; we crossed it long ago," Modoc sneered. "Yo'reeither a liar or a fool, Kid! And I'd advise yuh to mind yore ownbusiness."
"Call me 'Wolf,'" said the Texan, a ring of steel in his voice. "I'mjust 'The Kid' to friends. Others call me by mah last name. Andspeakin' of the trail, that wasn't the Red Rivah yo' crossed. It wasthe Wichita. And yo' must have gone ovah the Wichita Mountains, too."
"The Wichita!" ejaculated one of the other men. "Why, Modoc, yuh toldus----"
"And I told yuh right!" said the leader furiously. "I've been overthis route before, and I know just where we are."
"Yo're in The Terror's territory," drawled The Kid softly. "And I'veheahd from a reliable source that he's planned to raid yo'."
The others paled at the mention of The Terror. But Modoc raised hisvoice in fury.
"Who are yuh goin' to believe?" he shouted. "This upstart, or me?Why, for all we know"--his voice dropped to a taunting sneer--"he mightbe a spy for The Terror himself--probably measurin' the strength of ouroutfit!"
The other men seemed to hesitate. Then one of them spoke out:
"Reckon we'll believe you, Modoc. We don't know this man, and we'vetrusted yuh so far."
Modoc grinned, showing a line of broken and tobacco-stained teeth. Helooked at Kid Wolf triumphantly.
"Now I'll tell you a few things, my fine young fellow," he leered."Burn the wind out o' here and start pronto, before yuh get a bulletthrough yuh. Savvy?"
Kid Wolf decided to make one last appeal. If Modoc were insane, itseemed terrible that these others should be led to their doom on thataccount. Only the Texan could fully appreciate their peril. The wagontrain was loaded with valuable goods, for these men were traders. TheTerror would welcome such plunder, and it was his custom never to leavea man alive to carry the tale.
"Men," he said, "yo'-all got to believe me! Yo're in terrible danger,and off the right road. One man has already given his life to saveyo', and now I'm ready to give mine, if necessary. Let me stay withyo' and guide yo' to safety, fo' yo' own sakes! Mah two guns are atyo' service, and if The Terror strikes, I'll help yo' fight."
The advance guard heard him out. Unbelief was written on all theirfaces.
"I think yuh'd better take Modoc's advice," one of them said finally,"and git! We can take care of ourselves."
His heart heavy, Kid Wolf shrugged and turned away. The rebuff hurthim, not on his own account, but because these blindly trusting menwere being deceived. Modoc, whether purposely or not, had led themastray.
He was about to ride away when his eyes fell upon the foremost of thewagons, which was now creaking up, pulled by its straining team. KidWolf gave a start. Thrust out of the opening in the canvas was achild's head, crowned with golden hair. There were women and children,then, in this ill-fated outfit!
The Texan rode his horse over to the wagon and smiled at the youngster.It was a boy of three, chubby-faced and brown-eyed.
"Hello, theah," Kid called. "What's yo' name?"
The baby returned the smile, obviously interested in this picturesquestranger.
"Name's Jimmy Lee," was the lisped answer. "I'm goin' to Santa Fe.Where you goin'?"
Kid Wolf gulped. He could not reply. There was small chance that thislittle boy would ever reach Santa Fe, or anywhere else. Tears came tohis eyes, and he wheeled Blizzard fiercely.
"Good-by!" came the small voice.
"Good-by, Jimmy Lee," choked the Texan.
When he looked back again at the wagon train, he could still see asmall, golden head gleaming in the first prairie schooner.
"Blizzahd," muttered Kid Wolf, "we've just got to help those people,whethah they want it or not."
He pretended to head eastward, but when he was out of sight of thewagon train, he circled back and drummed west at a furious clip. Theonly thing he could do, he saw now, was to go to Santa Fe for help.With the obstinate traders headed directly across the Llano, they weresure to meet with trouble. If he could bring back a company ofsoldiers from that Mexican settlement, he might aid them in time. "Ifthey won't let me help 'em at this end," he murmured, "I'll have tohelp 'em at the othah."
The town of Santa Fe--long rows of flat-topped adobes nestling underthe mountain--was at that day under Spanish rule. Only a few Americansthen lived within its limits.
It was a thriving, though sleepy, town, as it was the gateway to allChihuahua. A well-beaten trail left it southward for El Paso, and itsmain street was lined with cantinas--saloons where mescal and tequilaran like water. There were gambling houses of ill repute, an opencourt for cockfighting, and other pastimes. The few gringos who werethere looked, for the most part, like outlaws and fugitives from theStates.
It lacked a few hours until sunset when Kid Wolf drummed into the town.The mountains were already beginning to cast long shadows, and thesounds of guitars and singing were heard in the gay streets.
Galloping past the plazas, the Texan at once went to the presidio--thepalace of the governor. It was of adobe, like the rest of thebuildings, but the thick walls were ornately decorated with stone. Itwas a fortress as well as a dwelling place, and it contained manyrooms. Several dozen rather ragged soldiers were loafing about thepresidio when Kid Wolf reached it, for a regiment was stationed in thetown.
Kid Wolf sought an interview with the governor at once, but in spite ofhis pleading, he was told to return in two hours. "The most honoredand respected Governor Manuel Quiroz," it seemed, was busy. If thesenor would return later, Governor Quiroz would be highly pleased tosee him.
There was nothing to do but wait, and the Texan decided to be patient.He spent an hour in caring for his horse and eating his own hasty meal.Then, finding some time on his hands, he walked through the plaza,watching the crowds with eyes that missed nothing.
He found himself in a street where frijoles, peppers, and other foodswere being offered for trade or barter. Cooking was even being done inopen-air booths, and the air was heavy with seasoning and spice. Hereand there was a drinking place, crowded with revelers. It wasevidently some sort of feast day in Santa Fe.
In front of one of the wine shops a little knot of men and soldiers hadgathered. All were flushed with drink and talking loudly in their owntongue. One of them--a captain in a gaudy uniform--saw the Texan andmade a laughing remark to his companions.
Kid Wolf's face flushed under its tan. His eyes snapped, but hecontinued his walk. He had too much on his mind just then to resentinsults.
But the captain had noticed his change of expression. The gringo,then, knew Spanish. His remarks became louder, more offensive. Morethan half intoxicated, he called jeeringly:
"I was just saying, senor, that many men who wear two guns do not knowhow to use even one. You understand, senor? Or perhaps the senor doesnot know the Spanish?"
Kid Wolf turned quietly.
"The senor knows the Spanish," he said softly.
The captain turned to his companions with a knowing wink. Then headdressed the Texan.
"
Then, amigo, that is well," he mocked. "Perhaps the senor can shootalso. Perhaps the senor could do this."
A peon stood near by, and the captain pulled off the fellow's strawsombrero and tossed it into the street. The wind caught it and the hatsailed for some distance. With a quick movement the Spanish captaindrew a pistol from his belt and fired. With a sharp report, a round,black hole appeared in the hat, low in the crown.
The crowd murmured its admiration at this feat. The captain strokedhis thin black mustache and smiled proudly.
"Perhaps the senor might find that difficult to do," he mocked.
"Quien sabe?" Kid Wolf shrugged and started to pass on. He did notcare to make a public exhibition of his shooting, especially when hehad graver matters on his mind. But the jeers and taunts that brokeloose from the half-drunken assembly were more than any man couldendure, especially a Texan with fiery Southern blood in his veins. Heturned, smiling. His eyes, however, were as cold as ice.
"Why," he asked calmly, "should I mutilate this po' man's hat?" Hiswords were spoken in perfectly accented Spanish.
"The hat? Ah," mocked the captain, "if the senor hits it, I will payfor it with gold."
Kid Wolf drew his left-hand Colt so quickly that no man saw the motion.Before they knew it, there was a sudden report that rolled out likethunder--six shots, blended into one stuttering explosion. He hademptied his gun in a breath!
A gust of wind blew away the cloud of black powder smoke, and the crowdstared. Then some one began to laugh. It was taken up by others.Even the customers in the booths chuckled at Kid Wolf's discomfiture.The captain's laugh was the loudest of all.
"Six shots the senor took," he guffawed, "and missed with them all!Ah, didn't I tell you that the Americans are bluffers, like their gameof poker? This one carries two guns and cannot use even one!"
Kid Wolf smiled quietly. A faint look of amusement was in his eyes.
"Maybe," he drawled, "yo'-all had bettah look at that hat."
Curiously, and still smiling, some of the loiterers went over toexamine the target. When they had done so, they cried out inamazement. It was true that just one bullet hole showed in the frontof the sombrero. The captain's shot had drilled that one. Naturallyall had supposed that the gringo had missed. Such was not the case.All of Kid Wolf's six bullets had passed through the captain's bulletmark! For the back of the hat was torn by the marks of seven slugs!Some one held the sombrero aloft, and the excited crowd roared itsapproval and enthusiasm. Never had such shooting been seen within theold city of Santa Fe.
The Spanish captain, after his first gasp of surprise, had nothing tosay. Chagrin and disgust were written over his face. If ever a manwas crestfallen, the captain was. He hated to be made a fool of, andthis 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 KidWolf 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 flameleaped from the region of his hip. Along with the crashing roar of theexplosion came a sharp, metallic twang.
The bullet had neatly clipped away the captain's belt buckle! A yellof laughter rang out on all sides. For the captain's trousers,suddenly unsupported, slipped down nearly to his knees. With a cry ofdismay, the disgruntled officer seized them frantically and held themup.
"Reach down in those," drawled the Texan, "and see if yo' can't findthat piece of gold!"
The officer, white with rage in which hearty fear was mingled, obeyedwith alacrity, pulling out a gold coin and handing it, with an oath, tothe 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 sweepingbow, leaving the captain glaring furiously after him.