'll feel bettah afta while," he murmured. "Just sit steady."

"Too late!" the tortured man almost screamed, "I'm dyin', I tell yuh!"

"How long have yo' been like this?"

"Three-four days. Maybe five. I lost count."

"Who did this thing?" was the fierce question.

"'The Terror'!" the reply came in a sobbing wail. "'The Masked Terror'
and his murderin' band. I was a prospector. A wagon train was
startin' across the Llano, and I tried to warn 'em. I never reached
'em. The Terror cut me off and left me like this! Say, I don't know
yore name, pard, but----"

"Call me 'Kid Wolf,'" answered the youth, "from Texas." His eyes had
narrowed at the mention of the name "The Terror."

"Somethin' on my mind, Kid Wolf. It's that wagon train. The Terror
will wipe it out. Promise me yuh'll try and warn 'em."

"I promise, old-timah," murmured the Texan. "Only yo' needn't to have
asked that. When yo' first mentioned it, I intended to do it. Where
is this wagon train, sah?"

In gasps--for his strength was rapidly failing him--the prospector gave
what directions he could. Kid Wolf listened intently, his eyes
blazing-blue coals.

"I'm passin' in my checks," sighed the sufferer weakly, when he had
given what information he could. "I'll go easier now."

"Yo' can be sure that I'll do all I can," the Texan assured him. "Fo'
yo' see, that's always been mah business. I'm just a soldier of
misfohtune, goin' through life tryin' to do all I can fo' the weak and
oppressed. I'll risk mah life fo' these people, and heah's mah hand on
that!"

The prospector groped for his hand, took it, and tried to smile. In a
few moments he had breathed his last, released from his pain. Kid Wolf
removed the bandanna from his own throat and placed it over the dead
man's face. Then he weighted it down with small rocks and turned to go.

"Just about the time I get to thinkin' the world is good, Blizzahd," he
sighed, addressing his white horse, "I find somethin' like this. Well,
seems like we hit out across the Llano, aftah all. Let's get a move
on, amigo! We've got work to do."

The Texan's face, as he swung himself into the saddle, was set and hard.

"Oh, I'm goin' back to the Rio Grande!
The Rio!
For most a yeah, I've been away,
And I'm lonesome now fo' me Old Lone Stah!
The Rio!
Wheah the gila monsters play!"

It was Kid Wolf's second day on the Llano Estacado, and his usual good
spirits had