signal to the bartender, the back room, vacant, save for a dozen
bottles, likewise empty, was thrown open to them.

"Have chairs, gentlemen," The Kid invited, as he carefully closed the
door.

The trio took chairs about the table, looking questioningly at the
stranger. The oldest of them picked up a deck of cards and began to
shuffle them absently. Kid Wolf quietly took his place among the trio.

"Boys," he asked slowly, "do yuh want jobs?"

There was a pause, during which the three punchers exchanged glances.

"Lay yore cards face up, stranger," invited one of them. "We'll
listen, anyway, but----"

"I want yo' to go to work fo' the S Bar," said The Kid crisply.

"That settles that," growled the oldest puncher, after sending a
searching glance at the Texan's face. The others looked amazed. "No.
We've quit the S Bar."

"Who suggested that yo' quit?" The Kid shot at them.

The man at the Texan's right flushed angrily. "I don't see that this
is any of yore business, stranger," he barked.

"Men," said The Kid, and his voice was as chill as steel, "I'm makin'
this my business! Yo're comin' back to work fo' the S Bar!"

"And yo're backin' thet statement up--how?" demanded the oldest cow
hand, suddenly ceasing to toy with the card deck.

"With these," returned Kid Wolf mildly.

The trio stared. The Kid had drawn his twin .45s and laid them on the
table so quickly and so quietly that none of them had seen his arms
move.

"Now, I hope," murmured The Kid, "that yo' rather listen to me talk
than to those. I've only a few words to say. Boys, I was surprised.
I didn't think yo' would be the kind to leave a po' woman like Mrs.
Thomas in the lurch. Men who would do that, would do anything--would
even run cattle into Mexico," he added significantly.

All three men flushed to the roots of their hair.

"Don't think we had anything to do with thet!" exclaimed one.

"We got a right to quit if we want to," put in the oldest with a
defiant look.

"Boys, play square with me and yo' won't be sorry," Kid Wolf told them
earnestly. "I know that all these things happened after yo' left.
Since then, cattle have been rustled and Mr. Thomas has been
murdahed--yo' know that as well as I do. That woman might be yo'
mothah. She needs yo'. What's yo' verdict?"

There was a long silence. The three riders looked like small boys
whose hands had been caught in the cooky jar.

"How much did Majah Stovah pay yo' to quit