Texan as well, had been through the country before,
and knew the lay of the land. The former had learned the location of a
water hole west of them in the hills, and they decided to head for
that, as they were suffering from intense thirst. Blizzard, too, had
not taken water for thirty-six hours.

The Apache is one of the best trailers in the world. They were under a
terrible handicap, and both realized it. With the great white horse,
strong as it was, carrying double, they could not hope to out-distance
pursuit.

"Yuh'd better leave me, Kid," Robbins begged.

"Befo' I'd leave yo'," returned the Texan, "I'd leave _me_!"

Dawn began to glow pink and orange behind them, and gradually the dim,
star-studded vault overhead became gray with the new day. Shortly
afterward, they reached the water hole. It was nearly dry, but enough
moisture remained to refresh both horse and riders.

Then they went on again. Kid Wolf could, tell by Blizzard's actions
that they were being followed. Before long he himself saw signs.
Little dust clouds began to show behind them, scattered over a line
miles long.

"Garvey and his Apaches!" the Texan jerked out. "And they're gainin'
fast."

"Can we beat 'em to Mexican Tanks?"

"No," The Kid drawled, "but we can fight!"

They soon saw the hopelessness of it all. The horizon behind them
swarmed with moving dots--dots that grew larger and more distinct with
every fleeting minute. Garvey had obtained reenforcements, without
doubt, for there seemed to be no end to the pursuing Apaches.

Blizzard ran like the thoroughbred he was. But even his iron muscles
could not stand the strain for long. The ponies behind were fresh, and
the snow-white charger was tremendously handicapped with the added
weight which had been placed upon it.

Puffs of white smoke blossomed out behind them. A bullet, spent and
far short, dropped away to their left, sending up a geyser of sand.

"I guess we'll fight now," Kid Wolf said, drawing his six-guns.

The grim-faced fighter from Texas knew the ways of the Apaches and was
prepared for what followed. It was not his first encounter with
renegade red men of the Southwest. He was also aware of what awaited
them if they were taken captive. Death with lead would be far more
merciful.

The line of Apache warriors spread out even farther. Blizzard was
speeding over a flat table-land now, flanked by two ridges of iron-gray
hills. A file of Indians separa