it. But
in the meantime--vamose pronto!"

Swearing angrily, the two men obeyed. It seemed the healthiest thing
to do just then. They slunk out like whipped curs, but The Kid knew
their breed.

He would see them again.

"Oh, the wintah's sun is shinin' on the Rio,
I'm ridin' in mah homeland and I find it mighty nice;
Life is big and fine and splendid on the Rio,
With just enough o' trouble fo' the spice!"

If Kid Wolf's improvised song was wanting from a poetical standpoint,
the swinging, lilting manner in which he crooned it made up for its
defects. His tenor rose to the canyon walls, rich and musical.

"Our cake's plumb liable to be overspiced with trouble," Frank Lathum
said with a laugh.

Kid Wolf, with his three newly hired riders, were well on their way to
the S Bar. His companions knew of a short route that would take them
directly to the Thomas hacienda, and they were following a steep-walled
canyon out of the mesa lands to the westward.

"Look!" cried Wise. "Somebody's coming after us!"

They turned and saw a lone horseman riding toward them from the
direction of San Felipe. The rider was astride a fast-pacing Indian
pony and overhauling them rapidly. Since leaving the town, Kid Wolf's
party had been in no hurry, and this had enabled the rider to overtake
them.

"It's Goliday," muttered Anton, shading his weather-beaten eyes with a
brown hand.

"Just who is he?" The Kid drawled.

"I think he's really the hombre behind Major Stover," Wise spoke up.
"He owns the ranch to the north o' the S Bar, and from what I hear,
Stover has been tryin' to buy it fer him."

"Oh," The Kid murmured, "let's wait fo' him then, and heah what he has
to say."

Accordingly, the four men drew up to a halt and wheeled about to face
the oncoming ranchman. They could see him raising his hand in a signal
for them to halt. He came up in a cloud of dust, checked his pony, and
surveyed the little party. His eyes at once sought out Kid Wolf.

Goliday was a man of forty, black-haired and sallow of face. He wore a
black coat and vest over a light-gray shirt. Beneath the former peeped
the ivory handle of a .45.

"Hello," panted the newcomer. "Are you the hombre that caused all the
stir back in San Felipe?"

"What can I do fo' yo'?" asked the Texan briefly.

"Well," said Goliday, "let's be friends. I'll be quite frank. I want
the S Bar. Is it true yo're goin' there to run the place for the old