Modoc were insane, it
seemed terrible that these others should be led to their doom on that
account. Only the Texan could fully appreciate their peril. The wagon
train was loaded with valuable goods, for these men were traders. The
Terror would welcome such plunder, and it was his custom never to leave
a man alive to carry the tale.

"Men," he said, "yo'-all got to believe me! Yo're in terrible danger,
and off the right road. One man has already given his life to save
yo', and now I'm ready to give mine, if necessary. Let me stay with
yo' and guide yo' to safety, fo' yo' own sakes! Mah two guns are at
yo' service, and if The Terror strikes, I'll help yo' fight."

The advance guard heard him out. Unbelief was written on all their
faces.

"I think yuh'd better take Modoc's advice," one of them said finally,
"and git! We can take care of ourselves."

His heart heavy, Kid Wolf shrugged and turned away. The rebuff hurt
him, not on his own account, but because these blindly trusting men
were being deceived. Modoc, whether purposely or not, had led them
astray.

He was about to ride away when his eyes fell upon the foremost of the
wagons, which was now creaking up, pulled by its straining team. Kid
Wolf gave a start. Thrust out of the opening in the canvas was a
child's head, crowned with golden hair. There were women and children,
then, in this ill-fated outfit!

The Texan rode his horse over to the wagon and smiled at the youngster.
It was a boy of three, chubby-faced and brown-eyed.

"Hello, theah," Kid called. "What's yo' name?"

The baby returned the smile, obviously interested in this picturesque
stranger.

"Name's Jimmy Lee," was the lisped answer. "I'm goin' to Santa Fe.
Where you goin'?"

Kid Wolf gulped. He could not reply. There was small chance that this
little boy would ever reach Santa Fe, or anywhere else. Tears came to
his eyes, and he wheeled Blizzard fiercely.

"Good-by!" came the small voice.

"Good-by, Jimmy Lee," choked the Texan.

When he looked back again at the wagon train, he could still see a
small, golden head gleaming in the first prairie schooner.

"Blizzahd," muttered Kid Wolf, "we've just got to help those people,
whethah they want it or not."

He pretended to head eastward, but when he was out of sight of the
wagon train, he circled back and drummed west at a furious clip. The
only thing he could do, he saw now, was to go to Santa Fe for help.
With the ob