breathless moment while the soft sand caked and caved. The Kid threw
his weight forward. Safely across, Blizzard was off again, galloping
like a white demon.

Kid Wolf unlimbered one of his Colts. The range was almost impossible.
Six times The Kid shot. One of the men toppled from his saddle and
fell sprawling. The other rider kept on.

The Kid did not fire any more, for he knew that he had been lucky
indeed, to get one of them at such a distance. He bent all his efforts
toward heading off the other. Already the S Bar hacienda was within
sight. There was no time to lose!

As The Kid pounded past he saw the face of the man who had been struck
by the chance bullet. It was Mullhall. Stacy kept going. He was
urging his horse to top speed, bent upon reaching the ranch and getting
in his work before The Kid could catch him.

Blizzard had reached his limit. His pace was faltering. Little by
little he began to lag behind. He was nearly spent. Only an expert
rider could have done what The Kid did then. Without slackening
Blizzard's speed, he slipped his saddle. With the reins in his teeth,
he worked loose the latigo and cinch, taking care not to trip the
speeding horse. Then he swung himself backward, freed the saddle and
blanket and hurled both sidewise. He was riding bareback now!

Relieved of forty pounds of dead weight, Blizzard lengthened his stride
and took new courage. He was overhauling Stacy now yard by yard!

Stacy turned in his saddle and emptied his gun at his pursuer--six
quick spats of smoke and six slugs of whining lead. All went wild, for
it was difficult to aim at such a smashing gallop.

"We've got him now, boy," The Kid gasped. "Close in!"

Farther south, in the distance, he saw a great dust cloud moving in
slowly. It was the riders with the recovered herd! But The Kid only
had a glimpse. Steve Stacy was whirling about desperately to meet him.
Once again The Kid was involved in a showdown to the bitter finish!

Kid Wolf's left-hand Colt sputtered from his hip. He had no more mercy
for Stacy than he would have had for a rattlesnake that had bitten a
friend.

_Br-r-rang-bang! Spat-spat!_ Stacy, hit twice, still blazed away. A
bullet ripped through the Texan's sleeve. Again he fired. The
ex-foreman fell, part way. The stirrup caught his left foot as his
head went into the sand. Stacy's horse reared back, started to run,
then stopped and waited patiently for its master