port. His face was
distorted. A long gasp came from his lips. A round dot had suddenly
appeared two inches left of his breast bone. He dropped heavily,
grunting as he struck the ground.

Paying no more attention to him, Kid Wolf holstered his own smoking .45
and bent over and picked up Goliday's ivory-handled weapon. He smiled
grimly as he peered into the muzzle. A very peculiar gun! There were
five grooves and five lands, which are the spaces between the grooves,
the uncut metal.

Goliday, with a bullet just below his heart, was not quite dead. He
realized what had happened. He was done for. Rapidly, as if afraid
that he could not finish what he wished to say, he began to speak:

"Yuh--were right. I killed Thomas. I wanted the S Bar. I'm afraid to
go like this, Kid Wolf. I tell yuh I'm afraid!" His voice rose to a
shriek. "There's murder on my soul, and there'll--be more. Quick!
Quick!"

"Is there anything I can do?" The Kid asked, generous even to a fallen
enemy such as Goliday.

"Yes," Goliday groaned. "All my men aren't in town. I sent Steve
Stacy and Ed Mullhall--down to the S Bar--a little while ago--to do
away with Mrs. Thomas. Stop 'em! Stop 'em! I don't want to die with
this on my soul. I--I----"

His words ended in a gurgling moan. His face twitched and then
relaxed. He was dead.

His dying words had thrilled Kid Wolf with horror. Steve Stacy and Ed
Mullhall on their way to murder Ma Thomas! Perhaps they were at the S
Bar already! Perhaps their terrible work was done! The Kid went white.

But he wasted no time in wringing his hands. At a dead run he left the
saddle shop and the dead villain within it. He whistled for Blizzard.
The horse raced to meet him. With a bound The Kid was in the saddle.
He knew of no trail to the S Bar. He must cut across country. There
was no time to hunt for one. Then, too, he must cut off as much as he
could. In that way, if the two killers followed a more or less winding
trail, he might overtake them.

The country was rough and broken. And, worse still, Blizzard was
tired. He had been on the go for many hours. There was a limit even
to the creamy-white horse's superb strength. It seemed hopeless.
Southeast they tore at breakneck speed. Blizzard seemed to sense what
was required of him. He ran like mad, clamping down on the bit, his
muscles rippling under his glossy hide--a hide that was already flecked
with foam.

"Go like yo'