ttle burst of steaming smoke.

The man on the strawberry roan lurched wildly, groaned, and pitched
headlong from his saddle, landing in the creek edge with a loud splash.
One foot still stuck in a stirrup, and for a few yards the frightened
pony dragged him through the muddied water. Then something gave way,
and the murdered man plumped into the water and disappeared.

The killer stood on his feet, upright. He laughed--a chilling,
mirthless rattle--and began to reload his old-pattern rifle. He was a
half-breed Indian. The dying sun glistened on his coppery, strongly
muscled flesh, for he was stripped to the waist. He wore trousers and
a hat, but his hair hung nearly to his shoulders in a coarse snarl, and
his feet were shod with dirty moccasins.

Kid Wolf's eyes crackled. He had seen deliberate murder committed, an
unsuspecting man shot down from ambush. His voice rang out:

"Drop that rifle and put up yo' hands!"

The soft drawl of the South was in his accents, but there was nothing
soft about his tone. The half-breed whirled about, then slowly
loosened his hold on his gun. It thudded to the grass. On a line with
his bare chest was one of Kid Wolf's big-framed .45s.

The snaky eyes of the half-breed were filled with panic, but as The Kid
did not shoot or seem to be about to do so, they began to glitter with
mockery. Kid Wolf dismounted, keeping his gun leveled.

"Why did yo' shoot that man?" he demanded.

The half-breed was sullenly silent for a long moment. "What yuh do
about it?" he sneered finally.

Kid Wolf's smile was deadly. His answer took the murderer by surprise.
The half-breed suddenly found his throat grasped in a grip of steel.
The fingers tightened relentlessly. The Indian's beady eyes began to
bulge; his tongue protruded. With all his strength he struggled, but
Kid Wolf handled him with one arm, as easily as if he had been a child!

"Yo're goin' to answer fo' yo' crime--that's what I'm goin' to do about
it!" The Kid declared.

The half-breed's yell was wild and unearthly, when the grip at his
throat was released. All the fight was taken out of him. Kid Wolf
shook him until his teeth rattled, picked him up bodily and hurled him
across his saddle.

"I'm takin' yo' to the law," he drawled. "I might kill yo' now and be
justified, too. But I believe in doin' things in the right way."

At the mention of "law," the half-breed snarled contemptuously.

"Ain't no law," he grunted,