His neck had been broken by
the shock!

For a minute Kid Wolf stared in unbelief. Then he smiled grimly.

"Guess I was right," he murmured, "when I said it was on the books fo'
Hahdy to die by the rope!"

Cattle were approaching Midway on the Chisholm Trail--hundreds of them,
bawling, milling, and pounding dust clouds into the air with their
sharp hoofs.

The Texan, watching the dark-red mass of them, smiled. McCay cattle,
those! And there was a woman in Dodge City who was cared for
now--Tip's mother.

"I guess we've got the job done, Blizzard." He smiled at the big white
horse that was standing at the hitch rack. "Heah comes the boys!"

It was a wondering group that gathered, a few minutes later, in the
ill-fated Idle Hour. They listened in amazement to Kid Wolf's recital
of what had taken place since he left them.

"And so Hardy hanged himself!" the sheriff from Limping Buffalo
ejaculated, when he could find his voice. "Well, I must say that saves
me the trouble o' doin' it! But there's some reward comin' to yuh, Mr.
Wolf."

The Texan smiled. "Divide it between Scotty, Caldwell, and White," he
drawled. "And, Tip, heah's the ten thousand Mistah Hahdy donated.
Present it to yo' good mothah, son, with mah compliments."

Tip could not speak for a minute, and when he did try to talk, his
voice was choked with emotion.

"I can't begin to thank yuh," he said.

Kid Wolf shook his head. "Please don't thank me, Tip. Yo' see, I
always try to make the troubles of the undah dawg, mah troubles. So
long as theah are unfohtunates and downtrodden folks in this world,
I'll have mah work cut out. I am, yo' might say, a soldier of
misfohtune."

"But yo're not goin'?" Tip cried, seeing the Texan swing himself into
his saddle.

"I'm just a rollin' stone--usually a-rollin' toward trouble," said the
Texan. "Some time, perhaps, we'll meet again. Adios!"

Kid Wolf swung his hat aloft, and he and his white horse soon blurred
into a moving dot on the far sweeps of the Chisholm Trail.

CHAPTER XI

A BUCKSHOT GREETING

"Oh, the cows stampede on the Rio Grande!
The Rio!
The sands do blow, and the winds do wail,
But I want to be wheah the cactus stands!
And the rattlah shakes his ornery tail!"

Kid Wolf sang his favorite verse to his favorite tune, and was happy.
For he was on his beloved Rio.

He had left the Chisholm Trail behind him, and now "The Rollin' Stone"
was rolling