"Hell! what's th' use of killin' just to kill?" he murmured. His hold on
the gun relaxed. A bolt of lightning slivered the rock above the wolf;
there was an acrid odor of burning hair. The next flash showed the wolf
stretched dead twenty feet below the cliff. "Well, I'll be damned!" the
Ramblin' Kid whispered as he bowed his head before the gale, "that was
funny! Guess God himself figured it was time for that poor cuss to die!"

In the last quarter of the night, at the North Springs, when the storm
had spent itself and the white moon looked down on a drenched and
flood-washed earth, the 'Ramblin' Kid dropped his rope over the head of
the Gold Dust maverick--barely twenty feet ahead of the horse he
rode--conquered by the superior nerve, muscle and endurance of Captain
Jack, still the greatest outlaw the Kiowa range had ever known!

The touch of the rope fired the filly to a supreme effort; she lunged
forward; Captain Jack set himself for the shock--he threw her cold, full
length, in the soft mud; instantly the little stallion sprang forward to
give the mare slack, she came to her feet, squealing piteously, and
plunged desperately ahead--again Captain Jack braced himself for the jar
and put her down, "It's hell, Little Girl," the Ramblin' Kid said with a
catch in his throat; "but you've got to learn!" The third time the
maverick tested the rope and the third time Captain Jack threw her in a
helpless heap. That time when she got to her feet she stood trembling in
every muscle until Captain Jack came up to her side and the Ramblin' Kid
reached out and laid his hand on the beautiful mane. She had learned.
Never again would the wonderful creature tighten a rope on her neck.

Trailing the filly, the Ramblin' Kid forced her back toward the
Cimarron, into its raging flood, multiplied a hundredfold by the
torrential rain of the night; side by side she and Captain Jack swam the
stream, and in the gray dawn, while the Quarter Circle KT still slept,
he turned the mare and Captain Jack into the circular corral. He removed
the saddle from Captain Jack, took the rope from the filly's neck, threw
the horses some hay and on the dry ground under the shed by the corral,
lay down and went to sleep.

For fourteen hours, without rest, the Ramblin' Kid had ridden.

The sun was up when Sing Pete electrified the Quarter Circle KT into
life and action by the jangle of the iron triangle sending out the
breakfast call.

Old Heck stepped to the