gringo would have trouble with
those stolen cattle if he drove them back into the States. That,
however, was no concern of Floristo's.

"Come back to-night, senor," he had begged. And now The Kid was on his
way to the don's hacienda. He had purposely timed his visit so that he
would reach Floristo's rancho at a late hour. Already it was after
midnight.

Blizzard was unusually full of spirit. The slow pace to which The Kid
held him was hardly an outlet for his restless energy.

"Steady, boy," The Kid whispered. "We're savin' our strength--they'll
be plenty of fast ridin' to do latah."

The Kid could not resist the temptation to break into song. His soft
chant rose above the faint whisper of the desert wind:

"Oh, theah's jumpin' beans and six-guns south o' Rio,
And _muy malo_ hombres by the dozen,
We're a-watchin' out fo' trouble south o' Rio,
And when it comes, some lead will be a-buzzin'."

He smiled up at the stars, and turned Blizzard's head to the eastward.
Before them loomed the low, white adobe walls of Don Floristo's
hacienda.

A dark-faced peon on guard outside, armed with a carbine, opened the
door for him. Late as the hour was, lights were shining inside and he
heard the welcoming sound of Don Floristo's voice as he passed through
the entrance.

"Ah, come in, come in, amigo. I was afraid the senor was not coming.
_Como esta usted?_"

"_Buenas noches_," returned The Kid, with easy politeness. "I trust
yo' are in good health?"

The conversation after that was entirely in Spanish, as Kid Wolf spoke
the language like a native. His Southern accent made the Mexican
tongue all the more musical. He followed his host into a rather large,
square room with a beautifully tiled floor. The don motioned The Kid
to a chair.

"The cattle of which we--ah--spoke, senor," said the don, as he lighted
a long brown cigarette. "They are on the way to Mariposa. Are
probably there even now, amigo."

"Yes?" drawled Kid Wolf.

"You will have men there to receive them?"

"Without fail," replied the Texan, a strange inflection in his tones.

"It is well, my friend. With the cattle are four of my men. They will
not turn over the herd, of course, until"--he paused
significantly--"the money is paid."

Kid Wolf smiled. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.

"One does not pay for stolen cattle, Don Floristo," he drawled.

The muscles of the don's body stiffened. Kid Wolf's f