l had been given at the opportune time. The bandits faltered.
They hadn't expected this! The Terror had hoped to find the wagon
train still asleep and defenseless. The rolling powder smoke cleared
away somewhat, and it could be seen that a dozen or more of the
attackers had melted out of their saddles, like butter on a hot stove.

But the raiders, outnumbering the defenders and realizing it, still
came on. Kid Wolf threw aside the rifle and drew his twin .45s.
Deliberately stepping out into the open, he fanned the hammers from the
level of his hip. His waistline, as he swung the thundering Colts from
side to side, seemed to be alive with sputtering red sparks. Smoke
rolled around him. The bandits in front of him dropped by twos and
threes.

Holes appeared in this side of the bandits' circle--holes that did not
close up. Riderless mounts dashed about frantically, their reins
trailing; wounded horses added to the uproar with their death screams.
It was a battle!

Seeing that the force of the charge had been broken on this flank, Kid
Wolf ran across to reenforce the other sides of the circle. At one
point the outlaws had already broken through the circle of wagons. Kid
Wolf sent three screaming slugs toward them, and they fell back in
disorder, leaving one desperado stretched out behind them.

Reloading his guns, Kid Wolf climbed upon one of the wagons and again
opened fire; this time with such an effect that all sides of the
attacking circle began to break and fall back to safety. Mere force of
numbers does not always count in a gun fight. Not more than half a
dozen of the defenders had been hit. The survivors raised a hearty
cheer. Kid Wolf's generalship had beaten back the first outlaw charge!

It was then that Modoc played his final card. Hoping to gain the
protection of the outlaws, and fearing the wagon train's vengeance, he
slipped out of the circle of covered wagons and, on foot, began
running. His goal was ahead of him, but he never reached it. His late
comrades--the bandits--evidently thought he had played the traitor with
them, for they fired on him relentlessly. He fell, then rose again to
scramble on. Bullets kicked up the sod around him. Others plumped
into his body. Again he fell, this time to stay. His body was riddled
with scores of bullets. So died the traitor.

Kid Wolf knew that a certain advantage always lies with the offensive.
Defenders haven't the power of attackers. Th