r Blizzard to remain where he was.
Then, like a slinking Apache Indian, he approached on foot, making no
sound. Not once did his high-heeled boots snap a weed or rustle the
dried grass. He would not have been more silent had he been wearing
moccasins.

There were a hundred or more men in the camp. It was a small city.
Kid Wolf could hear the champing and stamping of countless restless
horses, and the men were thick around the fire. A conference of some
kind was being held.

The Texan approached closer and closer, all eyes and ears. If he could
discover the identity of this band and something of their plans----

Suddenly a sentry rose up from the grass not a yard from him. His eyes
fell upon the intruder, and his mouth flew open. In his hand was a
short-barreled carbine.

The Texan seized him, dodged under the half-raised weapon and cut off
the man's cry with the pressure of a muscular hand. He fought
noiselessly, and the sentry--a Mexican--was no match for him. Throwing
him to the ground, Kid Wolf gagged him with the man's own gayly colored
scarf. Then he bound him securely, using the sentry's sash and carbine
strap.

Kid Wolf exchanged his hat for the Mexican's steep-crowned sombrero and
picked up the carbine. In this guise he could approach the camp with
comparative safety. Pulling the sombrero over his eyes, he came in
closer to the camp fire. As he did so, a trio of men--two white men
and one half-breed--came into the camp from another direction. The Kid
heard one of the other sentries hail the newcomers.

"What color will the moon be to-night?" was the challenge.

Thrills raced up Kid Wolf's spine. That was the question Modoc had
asked him! What deep plot was behind that seemingly meaningless query?
Then the Texan heard the response.

"The moon will be red!" was the countersign, and the trio passed and
approached the ring around the fire.

There was no doubt now that he was in the camp of The Terror! The men
outlined in the ruddy fire-light were desperadoes. Never had the Texan
seen such a gathering. Some were American gunmen, evil-faced and
heavily armed. Others were Mexicans and Indians. There was a
tenseness in the very atmosphere. As Kid Wolf came closer to the fire,
he was hailed in turn:

"What color will the moon be to-night?"

"The moon will be red," Kid Wolf replied softly.

No one paid him any attention. All eyes were on a figure near the
glowing fire.

The man was