oping now--he
was planning carefully. Kid Wolf had a hole card. Had the Spanish
soldiers known him better, they would have used more care in disarming
him. But then, enemies of Kid Wolf had made that mistake before, to
their sorrow.

Clearly enough, he could not help the wagon train where he was. He
must get out. But the only way to get out, it seemed, was to go out
with the firing squad--a rather unpleasant thing to do, to say the
least.

The tiny grated square in the jail door began to lighten. It grew
brighter. Day was breaking.

"It will soon be time for the beans," muttered the American youth.

"Will they give us breakfast?" asked the Texan.

The other laughed bitterly. "We'll have beans," he said shortly, "but
we won't eat them."

Not long afterward the iron door opened, and two soldiers entered,
carrying a red earthenware olla. "Fifteen men," said one of them in
Spanish, "counting the new one."

"Fifteen men," chanted the other in singsong voice. "Fifteen beans."

Kid Wolf's brows began to knit. At first he had thought that the beans
meant breakfast. Now he saw that something sinister was intended.
Some sort of lottery was about to be played with beans.

"There are fourteen white beans," the young American whispered, "and
one black one. We all draw. The man who gets the black bean dies this
morning."

The hair prickled on the Texan's head. Every morning these
unfortunates were compelled to play a grim game with death.

The prisoners were all quaking with terror, as they came up to the ugly
red jug to take their chance for life. As much as these miserable men
suffered in this terrible place, existence was still dear to them.

One soldier shook the beans in the olla; the other stood back against
the wall with leveled gun to prevent any outbreak. Then the lottery
began.

Kid Wolf viewed the situation calmly, and decided that to try to wrest
the weapon from the soldier would be folly. Other soldiers were
watching through the grated door.

One by one, the prisoners drew. The opening in the olla was just large
enough for a hand to be admitted. All was blind chance, and no one
could see what he had drawn until his bean was out of the jug. Some of
the peons screamed with joy after drawing their white beans. The black
one was still in the jar.

The two white men were the last to draw. Both took their beans and
stepped to one side to look at them. It was an even break. Kid Wolf