ettles it," said Kid Wolf grimly, turning to McCay. "I reckon
I'm throwin' in with yo'. My guns are at yo' service!"

It was a situation not uncommon in that wilderness where "the law
isn't, and the six-shooter is." Kid Wolf, however, had never seen a
bolder attempt to trample on the rights of honest men. His veins beat
hot at the thought of it. And Jack Hardy seemed to have the power to
see it through to its murderous end.

It was not long after the discovery of Durham's murder when Tip McCay
brought in a new note that had been pinned to the door.

"It was put there durin' the night some time, probably by one o'
Hardy's sneakin' half-breeds, because none o' our sentries saw any one
the whole night through," Tip said.

The note was roughly penciled on a sheet of yellow paper, and the
message it carried was significant:

Ef yu will all walk out of their without yore guns we promiss no harm
will com to yu. Ef yuh dont, we will get yu to the last man. We
alreddy got yore cattel. This offer dont go fer Kid Wolf. We no hes
their and we aim to kill him!

"They don't like me." The Texan laughed. "Well, I don't want 'em to.
What do yo' intend to do, sah?"

The elder McCay's face was very red. His fingers, as he tore the
insolent letter to bits, were trembling with anger.

"I say let 'em hop to it!" he jerked out. "I ain't givin' in to
anybody!"

The others cheered. And it was a fighting group of men who gathered
for a conference as to the defense of the store. It was agreed that
their position was a serious one, outnumbered as they were.

Just how serious, they soon found out, for at the rising of the sun--as
if it had been a signal--a burst of gunfire blazed out from the saloon
across the street. Splinters flew from the logs as bullets thudded
into them. Several whined through the two windows and crashed into the
wall.

Kid Wolf took an active part in quickly getting ready for a stand. The
windows and the doors were heavily barricaded, at his suggestion.
Sacks of flour, salt, and other supplies were piled over the openings,
as these were best for stopping lead. Mattresses were stuffed behind
the barricade for further protection, and just enough space was left
clear to allow a gun to be aimed through.

The volley from the Idle Hour had injured no one. The firing continued
more or less steadily, however, and an occasional slug ripped its way
between the logs. Jack Hardy's gang were firin