p of sullen-eyed
gunmen were looking on, expecting to see Kid Wolf beaten in short order.

Finally a tenseness in the very air testified to the fact that the time
for big action had come. The pot was already large, and all had
dropped out except Blacksnake and the drawling stranger.

"I'm raisin' yuh five hundred, 'Cotton-picker,'" sneered the bearded
man insolently.

He had a pair of aces in sight--a formidable hand--and if his hole card
was also an ace, Kid Wolf had not a chance in the world. The best the
Texan could show up was a pair of treys.

"My name, sah," said Kid Wolf politely, "is not Cotton-pickah, although
that is bettah than 'Bone-pickah'--an appropriate name fo' some people.
I'm Kid Wolf, sah, from Texas. And my enemies usually learn to call me
by mah last name. I'm seein' yo' bet and raisin' yo' another five
hundred, sah."

At the name "Kid Wolf," a stir was felt in the crowded saloon. It was
a name many of them had heard before, and most of the loungers began to
look upon the stranger with more respect. Others frowned darkly.
Blacksnake was one of them. Plainly, what he had heard of The Kid did
not tend to make the latter popular in his estimation.

"Excuse me," he spat out. "I should have called yuh 'Nose-sticker.'
From what I hear of yuh, yuh have a habit of mindin' other folks'
business. Well, that ain't healthy in Skull."

If the Texan was provoked by these insults, he did not show it. He
only smiled gently.

"We're playin' pokah now, I believe," he reminded. "Are yuh seein' mah
bet?"

"That's right, bet 'em like yuh had 'em. And I hope yore hole card's
another three-spot, for that'll make it easy for my buried ace. I'm
seein' yuh and boostin' it--for yore pile!"

Quietly The Kid swept all his chips into the center of the table. He
had called, and it was a show-down. With an oath, Blacksnake got half
to his feet. He turned his hole card over. It was a nine-spot, but he
had Kid Wolf beaten unless----

Slowly The Kid revealed his hole card. It was not a trey, but a four.
Just as good, for this made him two small pairs--threes and fours. He
had won!

"No," he drawled, "I wouldn't reach for my gun, if I were yo'."

Blacksnake took his hand away from the butt of his .45. It came away
faster than it had gone for it. Guns had appeared suddenly in the
Texan's two hands. His draw had been so swift that nobody had caught
the elusive movement.

"This game is bein' playe