ravely
the senor dies. Ready!"

The rifle mechanisms clattered sharply.

Then the captain turned to his victim, an insolent smile on his cruel
features. "Will the senor have his eyes bandaged? Blindfolded, yes?"

Kid Wolf returned the smile. "Yes," he replied quietly. "Maybe yo'
better blindfold me."

Hermosillo laughed tauntingly and turned to wink at his men. "He is
brave, yes!" he mocked. "He cannot endure seeing the _carabinas_ aimed
at his heart. He wants his eyes bandaged--the _muchos grande
Americano_! Ah, the coward!" He spat contemptuously on the sand. "He
does not know how to face the guns. Well, we will humor him!"

The captain whipped a silk handkerchief from his pocket and stepped
forward. Kid Wolf's eyes were gleaming with icy-blue lights. This was
the moment he had been waiting for! That handkerchief was a necessary
cog in his carefully laid plans. Captain Hermosillo was soon to learn
just how cowardly this young Texan was. And the surprise was not going
to be pleasant.

Kid Wolf's hole card was a big bowie knife--the same weapon that had
played such havoc at the Alamo. He carried it in a strange hiding
place--tucked into a leather sheath sewn to the inside of his shirt
collar, between his shoulder blades. That knife had rescued Kid Wolf
from many a tight situation, and he had practiced until he could draw
it with all the speed of heat lightning.

When the captain placed the handkerchief over his eyes, Kid Wolf
reached back, as if pretending to assist him. Like a flash, his
fingers closed over the bone handle of the knife instead. Hermosillo
found himself with the cold point of the gleaming bowie pressed against
his throat!

At the same time, Kid Wolf whirled his body about so that the officer
was between him and the firing squad. His left hand held the captain
in a grip of steel; his right held the glittering blade against
Hermosillo's Adam's apple!

"Throw down yo' rifles and back away from 'em!" Kid Wolfe called to the
soldiers. "Pronto! Or I'll kill yo' captain!"

Hermosillo gave an agonized yell of fear. In a voice of quaking
terror, he ordered his men to do what Kid Wolf had commanded them. His
breath was coming in wheezing gasps.

The firing squad, taken aback by this sudden development--for only a
few seconds had passed since The Kid had drawn the knife--hesitated,
and then obeyed. At best, they were none too quick-thinking, and they
saw that their leader