each more than a hundred yards long and jammed with buildings of frame
and sod. Kid Wolf read the signs on them as the horse trotted
southward:

"Bar. Tony's Place. Saloon. General merchandise. Saddle shop. Bar.
Saloon. Hotel and bar. Well, well, seems as if we have mo' than ouah
share o' saloons heah. This seems to be the biggest one. Shall we
stop heah, Blizzahd?"

There seemed to be no choice in the matter. One could take his pick of
saloons, for nothing else was open at this hour. The sign over the
largest read, "The Longhorn Palace."

Kid Wolf left Blizzard at the hitch rack and sauntered through the open
doors. A lively scene met his eyes. It interested and at the same
time disgusted The Kid. A long bar stretched from the front door to
the end of the building, and a dozen or more men leaned against it in
various stages of intoxication. In spite of the fact that the saloon
interior was well lighted by suspended oil lamps, the air was thick and
foul with liquor fumes and cigarette smoke. A half dozen gambling
tables, all busy, stood at the far end of the room.

The mirror behind the bar was chipped here and there with bullet marks,
and over it were three enormous steer heads with wide-spreading horns.
It was evident that drunken marksmen had taken pot shots at these
ornaments, also, for they were pitted here and there with .45 holes.
Kid Wolf was by no means impressed. He had been in bad towns aplenty,
and he usually found that the evil of them was pure bluff and bravado.
Smiling, he strolled over to the gambling tables.

The stud-poker table attracted his attention, first by the size of the
stakes and then by the men gathered there. It was a stiff game,
opening bets sometimes being as much as fifty dollars. Apparently the
lid was off.

The hangers-on in the Longhorn seemed to be of one type and resembled
professional gunmen more than they did cattlemen. The men at the poker
table looked like desperadoes, and one of them especially took The
Kid's observing eye.

A huge-chested man in a checkered shirt was at the head of the table
and seemed to have the game well in hand, for his chip stacks were
high, and a pile of gold pieces lay behind them. His closely cropped
black beard could not conceal the cruelty of his flaring nostrils and
sensual mouth. He was overbearing and loud of speech, and his
menacing, insolent stare seemed to have every one cowed.

Kid Wolf was a keen student of men