talking and seemed to be in authority. He was dressed in a
red Mexican coat, rich silver-trimmed pantaloons, and carried a brace
of gold-mounted pistols. His face was covered with a mask of black
velvet. Instinctively Kid Wolf knew that he was looking at the dread
scourge of the Llano Estacado--The Terror of the Staked Plains! The
bandit, then, kept himself masked even in front of his own men! Kid
Wolf, as he listened, grew tense. His eyes were shining with snapping
blue fire. The Terror was planning a raid upon the wagon train! His
voice, cold and deadly, came to Kid Wolf's ears:

"Everything, then, caballeros, is arranged. We strike at dawn and wipe
them out, sparing nobody. If a man escapes, you are all running a
risk, for some of you might be identified. Man, woman, and child, they
must die! Our man, of course, you all know. Do not fire on him."

Kid Wolf listened to that sinister voice and wondered what the face
behind the mask looked like. The bandit leader had no more soul than a
rattler, and one might expect more mercy from a wolf. And Kid Wolf
already knew whom The Terror meant when he spoke of "our man." Anger
shook the Texan from head to foot. He had learned enough. The bandits
were already about to mount their horses in order that they might reach
the wagon train at daybreak. There was no time to lose. He must get
back to the helpless outfit ahead of them.

Sauntering carelessly, he slipped out of the circle about the fire and
made his way out of the camp without being noticed. Once out of the
range of the firelight, he raced into the darkness for his horse.

Blizzard was waiting patiently. He had not moved from his tracks. An
ordinary animal might have nickered upon scenting other horses, but
Blizzard had been trained otherwise. Kid Wolf leaped into the saddle,
slapped his mount gently on the neck, and was swallowed up in the night
as Blizzard answered the summons.

The east was a pale line against the dark of the prairie night when
Blizzard drummed up to the sleeping wagon train with his rider. It
still lacked a half hour until the dawn.

The Texan sent the sentries to arouse every available fighting man in
the wagon train.

"Is it The Terror?" one of them questioned, paling.

"It is," replied Kid Wolf. "We must act quickly."

In a few minutes men were pouring out of the wagons, weapons in their
hands. It was just light enough now to see. Modoc ran out of his
wagon,