go that if he didn't break away he'd die
sudden. Somehow I couldn't persuade him he was an awful sick man right
then. You saw four of these hold-ups in all, didn't you, Val?"

"Four's right. First off Neil, then the fellow I took to be the Wolf.
After he went out a bowlegged fellow came in, and last a slim little kid
that was a sure enough amateur, the way his gun shook."

"Any notion how many more there were?"

"I figured out two more. A big gazabo in a red wig held up Frost, the
engineer. He knew it was a wig because he saw long black hair peeping
out around his neck. Then there must 'a' been another in charge
of blowing up the express car, a Mexican, from the description the
messenger gives of him."

Bucky nodded. "Looks like you got it figured about right, Val. The
Mexican is easy to account for. The Wolf spends about half his time down
in Chihuahua and trains with some high-class greasers down there. Well,
we'll see what we'll see. I'll set my rangers at rounding up the border
towns a bit, and if I don't start anything there I'll hike down into
Mexico and see what's doing. I'll count on you to run the Arizona end of
it while I'm away, Val. The Wolf's outfit is a pretty wild one, and it
won't be long till something begins to howl. We'll keep an eye on the
gambling halls and see who is burning up money. Oh, they'll leave plenty
of smoke behind them," the ranger concluded cheerfully.

"There will be plenty of smoke if we ever do round 'em up, not to
mention a heap of good lead that will be spilled," the sheriff agreed
placidly. "Well, all I got to say is the sooner the quicker. The bunch
borrowed a mighty good.45 of mine I need in my biz. I kinder hanker to
get it back muy pronto."

"Here's hoping," Bucky nodded gayly. "I bet there will be a right lively
wolf hunt. Hello! The car's loaded. All aboard for Tucson."

The special drew out from the side track and gathered speed. Soon the
rhythmic chant of the rails sounded monotonously, and the plains on
either side of the track swam swiftly to the rear.

CHAPTER 4. A BLUFF IS CALLED

Torpid lay Aravaipa in a coma of sunheat. Its adobe-lined streets basked
in the white glare of an Arizona spring at midday. One or two Papago
Indians, with their pottery wares, squatted in the shade of the
buildings, but otherwise the plaza was deserted. Not even a moving dog
or a lounging peon lent life to the drowsy square. Silence profound and
peace eternal seemed to brood ov