thered. All were flushed with drink and talking loudly in their own
tongue. One of them--a captain in a gaudy uniform--saw the Texan and
made a laughing remark to his companions.

Kid Wolf's face flushed under its tan. His eyes snapped, but he
continued his walk. He had too much on his mind just then to resent
insults.

But the captain had noticed his change of expression. The gringo,
then, knew Spanish. His remarks became louder, more offensive. More
than half intoxicated, he called jeeringly:

"I was just saying, senor, that many men who wear two guns do not know
how to use even one. You understand, senor? Or perhaps the senor does
not know the Spanish?"

Kid Wolf turned quietly.

"The senor knows the Spanish," he said softly.

The captain turned to his companions with a knowing wink. Then he
addressed the Texan.

"Then, amigo, that is well," he mocked. "Perhaps the senor can shoot
also. Perhaps the senor could do this."

A peon stood near by, and the captain pulled off the fellow's straw
sombrero and tossed it into the street. The wind caught it and the hat
sailed for some distance. With a quick movement the Spanish captain
drew a pistol from his belt and fired. With a sharp report, a round,
black hole appeared in the hat, low in the crown.

The crowd murmured its admiration at this feat. The captain stroked
his thin black mustache and smiled proudly.

"Perhaps the senor might find that difficult to do," he mocked.

"Quien sabe?" Kid Wolf shrugged and started to pass on. He did not
care to make a public exhibition of his shooting, especially when he
had graver matters on his mind. But the jeers and taunts that broke
loose from the half-drunken assembly were more than any man could
endure, especially a Texan with fiery Southern blood in his veins. He
turned, smiling. His eyes, however, were as cold as ice.

"Why," he asked calmly, "should I mutilate this po' man's hat?" His
words were spoken in perfectly accented Spanish.

"The hat? Ah," mocked the captain, "if the senor hits it, I will pay
for it with gold."

Kid Wolf drew his left-hand Colt so quickly that no man saw the motion.
Before they knew it, there was a sudden report that rolled out like
thunder--six shots, blended into one stuttering explosion. He had
emptied his gun in a breath!

A gust of wind blew away the cloud of black powder smoke, and the crowd
stared. Then some one began to laugh. It was taken up by other