that he was a white man; others maintained
that he was a full-blooded Comanche Indian. Nobody had ever seen his
face, for he always was masked. His deeds were enough. No torture was
too cruel for his insane mind. No risk was too great, if he could
obtain loot. With his band behind him, no man was safe on the Staked
Plains. Many a smoldering pile of human bones testified to that.

As the Texan approached the outfit, he could hear the sharp crack of
the bull whips and the hoarse shouts of the drivers. Twenty-two
wagons, and in single file! Against the blue of the horizon, they made
a pretty sight, with their white coverings. Kid Wolf, however, was not
concerned with the beauty of the picture. Great danger threatened
them, and it was his duty to be of what assistance he could. Touching
his big white horse with the spur, he came upon the long train's flank.

Ahead of the train were the scouts, or pathfinders. In the rear was
the beef herd, on which the outfit depended for food. Behind that was
the rear guard, armed with Winchesters.

The Texan neared the horseman at the head of the train, raising his arm
in the peace signal. To his surprise, one of the scouts threw up his
rifle! There was a puff of white smoke, and a bullet whistled over Kid
Wolf's head.

"The fools!" muttered the Texan. "Can't they see I'm a friend?"

Setting his teeth, he rode ahead boldly, risking his life as he did so,
for by this time several others had lifted their guns.

The six men who made up the advance party, eyed him sullenly as he drew
up in front of them. The Texan found himself covered by half a dozen
Winchesters.

"Who are yuh, and what do yuh want?" one of them demanded.

"I'm Kid Wolf, from Texas, sah. I have impo'tant news fo' the leader
of this outfit."

One of the sextet separated himself from the others and came so close
to the Texan that their horses almost touched.

"I'm in command!" he barked. "My name's Modoc. I'm in charge o' this
train, and takin' it to Sante Fe."

The man, Modoc, was an impressive individual, bulky and stern. His
face was thinner than the rest of his body, and Kid Wolf was rather
puzzled to read the surly eyes that gleamed at him from under the bushy
black brows. He was more startled still, however, when Modoc whispered
in a voice just loud enough for him to hear:

"What color will the moon be to-night?"

Kid Wolf stared in astonishment. Was the man insane?

CHAPTER