rance! His evil face was gloating,
his snaky eyes glittering with the prospect of quick revenge. In his
dirty hands was a rifle, and he was raising it to cover The Kid's heart!

Kid Wolf's hands were on the table. There was no time for him to draw
his Colts! It seemed that the half-breed had taken a hand in the game
and that he held the winning cards! In a second it would be over. The
half-breed's finger was reaching for the trigger; his mouth was twisted
into a gloating, vicious smile.

But while The Kid was seated in such a position at the table that he
could not hope to reach his guns quickly enough, he had his hole
card--the bowie knife in a sheath concealed inside his shirt collar.
The Kid could draw and hurl, if necessary, that gleaming blade as
rapidly as he could pull his 45s. His hand darted up and back.
Something glittered in the air for just a breath, and there was a
singing _twang_!

Tucumcari Pete gasped. His weird cry ended in a gurgle. He lowered
his rifle and teetered on his feet. The flying knife had found its
mark--the half-breed's throat! The keen-pointed blade had buried
itself nearly to the guard! Clawing at the steel, Tucumcari staggered,
then dropped to the floor with his clattering rifle. His body jerked
for a moment, then stiffened. Justice had dealt with a murderer.

"The thirteenth ace," The Kid drawled softly, "is always in the deck!"

But Hardy had taken advantage of Tucumcari's interruption. Jumping up
with an oath, he hurled the table over upon The Kid and leaped for the
door. The Texan scrambled from under the heavy table and darted after
him. Hardy was running for his life. He raced into the main room of
the Idle Hour with The Kid at his heels.

Kid Wolf could have drawn his guns and shot him down. But it was too
easy. Unless forced to do so, that was not the Texan's way.

Snatching open a drawer in one of the gambling tables, Hardy seized a
large-bore derringer and whirled it up to shoot. But The Kid's steel
fingers closed on his wrist. The ugly little pistol exploded into the
ceiling--once, and then the other barrel.

"There'll be no guns used!" said The Kid, with a deadly smile. "I told
yo' we'd have this out man to man!"

Hardy's lips writhed back in a snarl of hatred. He sent a smashing
right-hand jab at the Texan's heart. Kid Wolf blocked it, stepped to
one side and lashed the rustler king under the eye. Hardy staggered
back against the table, cl