ir beef herd, leaving them
without food. All day they had had nothing to eat, and were at the
point of killing and devouring prairie dogs. The water, too, was
bad--so full of alkali as nearly to be undrinkable, and as bitter as
gall.

Kid Wolf lost no time in taking the situation in hand. His own
provisions he turned over to the women and children of the outfit.
Then he changed the course of the train so that it led toward
civilization. At nightfall they made camp by a pool of fair drinking
water. The outfit told him that as yet they had seen no sign of The
Terror.

"Probably we won't," said one.

Kid Wolf was not so optimistic. That night he borrowed two .45 Colt
revolvers from the wagon-train supplies. He selected them with extreme
care, testing them by shooting at marks. So accurate was his shooting
that the men of the outfit could not conceal their admiration. The
first weapon he tried threw the shots an inch or two to one side, but
he finally obtained a pair that worked perfectly. Then he sanded the
wooden handles of the guns to roughen them slightly.

"It nevah pays to have yo' hand slip when makin' a draw," he explained.

The outfit's camp fire was shielded with canvas that night, at Kid's
suggestion. On that wide plain a light showed for many miles, and it
was poor policy to advertise one's position.

Tired as he was, Kid Wolf rose at midnight, after sleeping a few hours.
He wanted to be sure that everything was well. Making a tour of the
wagon train, he suddenly stopped in his tracks and sniffed. There was
no mistaking the delicious odor. It made Kid Wolf hungry. It was
frying meat. The Texan quietly aroused some of the men and led them to
one of the wagons.

"I want yo'-all to see fo' yo'selves," he explained.

The wagon was Modoc's own, and they entered it. The ex-wagon-train
commander had a shielded lantern burning inside, and he was in the act
of eating a big supper! When he saw that he had visitors, he tried to
reach the gun belt he had hung up at one end of the wagon. Kid Wolf
was too quick for him.

"Yo' call yo'self a man!" he murmured in a voice filled with contempt.
"Why, a low-down coyote is a gentleman alongside of yo'. I wondered
why yo' looked so well fed, while the rest of the camp was starvin'.
Men, search this wagon!"

While Modoc swore, the search was made. It disclosed many pounds of
dried beef and other provisions. It was Modoc's little private supply.

"