s of his six-guns. "Heah,
sah," he murmured. "I'm askin' yo'."

Major Stover looked angry. "Yes," he said sharply, "I did at one time
make such an offer. However, I have reconsidered. My price is now
three thousand dollars."

"May I ask," spoke The Kid softly, "why yo' have reduced yo' offah?"

"Because," said the land dealer, "she has to sell now! I've got her
where I want her, and if yo're her agent, yuh can tell her that!"

One stride, and Kid Wolf had fat Major Stover by the neck. For all his
weight, and in spite of his bulk, The Kid handled him as if he had been
a child. An upward jerk dragged him from his chair. The Texan held
him by one muscular hand.

"So yo' have her where yo' want her, have yo'?" he cried, giving the
major a powerful shake.

He passed his other hand over the land agent's flabby body, poking the
folds of fat here and there over Major Stover's ribs. At each thump
the major flinched.

"Why, yo're as soft as an ovahripe pumpkin," Kid Wolf drawled,
deliberately insulting. "And yo' dare to tell me that! No, don't try
that!"

Major Stover had attempted to draw an ugly-looking derringer. The Kid
calmly took it away from him and threw it across the room. He shook
the land agent until his teeth rattled like dice in a box.

"Mrs. Thomas' ranch, sah," he said crisply, "is not in the mahket!"

With that he hurled the major back into his chair. There was a
crashing, rending sound as Stover's huge body struck it. The wood
collapsed and the dazed land agent found himself sitting on the floor.

"I'll get yuh for this, blast yuh!" gasped the major, his bloated face
red with rage. "Yo're goin' to get yores, d'ye hear! I've got power
here, and yore life ain't worth a cent!"

"It's not in the mahket, eithah," the Texan drawled, as he strolled
toward the door. At the threshold he paused.

"Yo've had yo' say, majah," he snapped, "and now I'll have mine. If I
find that yo' are in any way responsible fo' the tragedies that have
ovahtaken Mrs. Thomas, yo'd bettah see to yo' guns. Until then--adios!"

CHAPTER XII

THE S BAR SPREAD

The bartender of the La Plata Saloon put a bottle on the bar in front
of the stranger, placing, with an added flourish, a thick-bottomed
whisky glass beside it. This done, he examined the newcomer with an
attentive eye, pretending to polish the bar while doing so.

The man he observed was enough to attract any one's notice, even in the
cosmopo