s ears now, the bullets were falling short, kicking up
spurts of dust. The cries in angry Spanish grew fainter until they
died into a confused hubbub. Kid Wolf had left the town behind him and
was racing out over the level plain. Looking back, he could see a
score or more of brown clouds--dirt stirred by the horsemen who were
now almost lost from view. These dwindled. In an hour only half a
dozen riders remained on his trail. Blizzard was still going strong.

Out on the great Llano Estacado, The Kid managed, by superior
horsemanship, to give the balance of his pursuers the slip. When he
had succeeded in confusing them, he slowed his faithful mount down for
a needed rest. And now where was the wagon train? Where was he to
find it? A chill raced down his spine. Had The Terror already struck?
The thought of the women and children in the hapless outfit filled him
with a feeling akin to panic. He must find the wagon train. It might
not yet be too late.

Kid Wolf was a plainsman. He could locate water where none appeared to
exist; he could discover game when older men failed; and he could
follow a course on the limitless prairie as surely as a sailor could
navigate the seas by means of his compass. By day or by night, he was
"trailwise."

Carefully Kid Wolf estimated the route the wagon train had been taking.
Then he figured out the progress it had probably made since he had left
it. In this way he fixed a point in his mind--an imaginary dot that he
must reach if he meant to find the prairie schooners. If Modoc--the
leader of the outfit--had kept to his original course, The Kid could
not fail to meet them.

Accordingly, Kid Wolf traveled all the rest of that day in a straight
line, marking his course by the sun. He stopped only once at noon for
water and a short rest, going on again until dusk.

At nightfall, he made camp and lay awake, looking at the stars
overhead. His thoughts were of The Terror and of his intended victims.
Strangely enough, the face of Modoc came into his reflections, also.
He could not dismiss him. Was he really insane, or was it just
obstinacy? If the latter, what had he meant by his strange expression:
"What color will the moon be to-night?" Kid Wolf thought for a long
time and then gave it up.

He did not fear any further pursuit by the Spanish soldiers. The trail
he had left behind was too puzzling; he had taken care of that.
Besides, he knew that the average Spaniard fe