uickly loaded one of his .45s and stuck it down in one of
Blizzard's stirrups in such a way that it could not jolt out. Then he
gave the horse a sharp pat on the neck.

"Go, Blizzahd," he urged, "until I call!"

The horse seemed to understand perfectly, for it wheeled and ran with
all its speed down the arroyo. It was soon lost to sight among the
mesquites.

"He'll stay out of sight and within call," explained the Texan. "We
may need him worse than we do now. Anyway, Garvey will have plenty
trouble gettin' that express money."

They prepared to fight it out until the last, for already the Indians
were forcing their ponies down into the arroyo. A triumphant shout
went up--a shout that became an elated, bloodthirsty war cry. The
Apaches saw that the two white men were almost within their grasp.

"Good-by, Dave," said The Kid.

They grasped hands for a moment. There was no fear in their faces.
Then they confronted the renegades. It was to be their last stand!

"Here's hopin' we get Garvey before we go!" said Robbins fiercely.

A storm of bullets tore through the paloverdes, sending twigs and
leaves flying. Kid Wolf smiled coolly along the barrel of his
remaining gun, and he deliberately lined the sights.

The impact of the explosions kicked the heavy weapon about in his hand,
but every shot brought grief to some savage. Robbins' gun also blazed.

A half dozen screaming Apaches rushed their position in the thicket.
The charge failed, stopped by lead. Another came, almost in the same
breath. It faltered, then came on, reenforced. There were too many of
them for two men to check.

Kid Wolf understood their guttural cries as they advanced.

"They mean to take us alive!" he cried. "Don't let 'em do it, son!
It's better to die fightin'!"

But the Apaches seemed to have more than an ordinary reason for wanting
to capture them. They came on, a coppery swarm, clubbing their guns.

There was no time to reload! The two young white men found themselves
fighting hand to hand in desperate battle. Kid Wolf smashed two of the
Indians, sending them sprawling back into their companions with broken
heads. But still they came--dozens of them!

Robbins was down, then up again. He felt hands seize him. Kid Wolf
felt the impact of a gun stock on his head. The world seemed to sway
crazily. Even while falling to the ground he still fought, his hard
fists landing on the faces and chests of the red warriors in