nst the strong.

"Listen!" cried Lefty suddenly.

"And look!" whispered Red. "See those black dots against the sky over
there? And there's a camp fire, too."

He was right. The glow of a fire reddened the horizon and the distant
bawling of uneasy cattle could be heard on the night wind.

The rustlers had made a camp on the mesa until the dawn. The big herd
was shifting, restless and milling.

"A gun fight will stampede that herd," observed Red.

"Then," said The Kid, "we'll be sure to stampede them in the right
direction. Let's make a wide circle heah."

They rode to the west, so that they would not be outlined against the
moon. A full, curving mile slipped under their horses' pounding hoofs
before The Kid gave the signal for the turn. He had the outlaws
spotted, every one, and all depended now on his generalship. He knew
that the two riders on the far side of the night herd would be out of
it--for the time, at least. When the herd started their mad stampede
toward the Diamond D, they would have a high time just taking care of
themselves. The others, five in number, would be dealt with first.

The trio slipped closer as silently as moving phantoms. The Kid saw
three mounted men--two blocking their path, and the other on the far
wing. Two other outlaws were at the fire. The Texan sniffed and
smiled. They were making coffee.

"The two at the fiah make excellent tahgets," murmured Kid Wolf. "I'll
leave them to yo', Red. Lefty, start now and ride toward the fah
ridah. I'll try mah hand with these two. We'll count to fifty, Lefty;
that'll give yo' time to get in range of yo' man. And then I'll give
the coyote yell, and we'll start ouah little row. Don't kill unless
necessary, but if they show fight, shoot fast."

Lefty grinned in the moonlight, roweled his horse lightly and drifted.
Red and the Texan waited--ten seconds--twenty--thirty--forty----

"_Yipee yip-yipee-ee!_" The coyote cry rose, mournful and lonely.

Then came a terrific rattle of gunfire, with the dull drum of horses'
hoofs as a bass accompaniment. Red spurred his horse toward the fire,
shouting his battle cry and throwing down on the two startled men who
leaped to their feet, reaching for their guns. Kid Wolf's great white
charger burned the breeze at the two guards on the west wing.

"Throw up yo' hands!" The Kid invited.

But they didn't. Lead began to hum viciously. Bending low in their
saddles, they drew and opened