ectly
legitimate to scratch the aces with yo' fingah nail."

They were soon off the limits of the Diamond D and on the Casas
Amarillas--a ranch owned by Gentleman John and taking its Spanish name
from two yellow houses of adobe several miles distant. They saw
scattered cattle branded with a Lazy J--one of Gentleman John's many
brands--but discovered no stragglers from the stolen Morton herds.

Following the trail was easy, and they struck a hot pace down through
and out of the grassy valley, climbing through a pass and up on a
rolling mesa dotted with thirsty-looking sage. For two full hours they
rode, while the sun crept toward the west. Their horses were beginning
to tire. A line of cedar-sprinkled hills loomed up ahead of them, but
by keeping to the plateau they could circle them.

"I think we'd bettah keep to the mesa," The Kid advised.

"But we're about on 'em," put in Red. "They'll see us comin', miles
away. If we cut down through those hills, we'll gain time, too, and
keep hid."

"It's a fine place to be trapped in," mused the Texan. "Well, Red, yo'
know this country, an' I don't, so use yo' own judgment."

Against the far horizon they could make out a faint yellow haze--dust
from the trampling hoofs of many cattle. They could cut off a full
mile by riding down into the cedars, and Red decided to do so. The Kid
was dubious, but said nothing more. If Blacksnake had a rear guard of
any kind, they might have been sighted. In that case, they would run
into trouble--ambushed trouble.

Kid Wolf rode in the lead, the three others drumming along behind him.
He was grimly wary. A chill gust of wind hit them, as they entered the
depths of the notch between the hills. The straggling growth of cedars
and stumpy evergreens loomed up ahead of them, and they crashed
through. For several hundred yards they tore their way and found their
pace slowed by the difficult going. The trees began to thin out. Then
they heard a spring tinkling down among the red rocks, and the cedars
began to thicken again, as the little canyon narrowed and climbed
steeply.

"Stick 'em up!"

Kid Wolf fired at the sound of the voice while the loud shout was still
echoing. His double draw was lightning fast. Before the others knew
what was taking place, his two guns had flashed. At the dull boom of
the twin explosions, a crashing sound was heard in the brush, as if
something was wildly threshing about. Then bullets began to ri