stinate traders headed directly across the Llano, they were
sure to meet with trouble. If he could bring back a company of
soldiers from that Mexican settlement, he might aid them in time. "If
they won't let me help 'em at this end," he murmured, "I'll have to
help 'em at the othah."

The town of Santa Fe--long rows of flat-topped adobes nestling under
the mountain--was at that day under Spanish rule. Only a few Americans
then lived within its limits.

It was a thriving, though sleepy, town, as it was the gateway to all
Chihuahua. A well-beaten trail left it southward for El Paso, and its
main street was lined with cantinas--saloons where mescal and tequila
ran like water. There were gambling houses of ill repute, an open
court for cockfighting, and other pastimes. The few gringos who were
there looked, for the most part, like outlaws and fugitives from the
States.

It lacked a few hours until sunset when Kid Wolf drummed into the town.
The mountains were already beginning to cast long shadows, and the
sounds of guitars and singing were heard in the gay streets.

Galloping past the plazas, the Texan at once went to the presidio--the
palace of the governor. It was of adobe, like the rest of the
buildings, but the thick walls were ornately decorated with stone. It
was a fortress as well as a dwelling place, and it contained many
rooms. Several dozen rather ragged soldiers were loafing about the
presidio when Kid Wolf reached it, for a regiment was stationed in the
town.

Kid Wolf sought an interview with the governor at once, but in spite of
his pleading, he was told to return in two hours. "The most honored
and respected Governor Manuel Quiroz," it seemed, was busy. If the
senor would return later, Governor Quiroz would be highly pleased to
see him.

There was nothing to do but wait, and the Texan decided to be patient.
He spent an hour in caring for his horse and eating his own hasty meal.
Then, finding some time on his hands, he walked through the plaza,
watching the crowds with eyes that missed nothing.

He found himself in a street where frijoles, peppers, and other foods
were being offered for trade or barter. Cooking was even being done in
open-air booths, and the air was heavy with seasoning and spice. Here
and there was a drinking place, crowded with revelers. It was
evidently some sort of feast day in Santa Fe.

In front of one of the wine shops a little knot of men and soldiers had
ga