CHAPTER VIII
ONE GAME HOMBRE
Hardy's gang did not attempt another rush. They had learned theirlesson. Keeping under cover, they continued firing steadily, however,and their bullets began to do damage. Every crack and chink was atarget.
In the afternoon, more riders arrived to swell the Hardy faction. Somewere ugly, half-clothed Indians, armed with rusty guns and bows andarrows. The odds were steadily increasing.
As there was ample food and water in the storehouse to last for severaldays, the besieged had no worries on that score. McCay knew, though,and Kid Wolf realized, that nightfall would bring trouble. Hardy wasstung now by the loss of several men, and he would not do things byhalves. He would show no mercy.
The first casualty took place in midafternoon. Anderson, in the act ofaiming his revolver through a loophole, was hit between the eyes by abullet and instantly killed. The number of men defending the store wasnow cut down to seven.
Toward nightfall, tragedy overtook them, full force. Old Beef McCaywas in the act of reloading a gun when a treacherous bullet zippedspitefully through an opening between two logs and caught him low inthe chest. The impact sent him staggering against the wall, his round,moonlike face white and drawn.
"Dad!" called out Tip, in an agony of grief.
He and Kid Wolf rushed to the wounded man, supporting his great weightas it slowly sagged.
"Got me--son!" the cattleman jerked out.
Quickly the Texan tore away his shirt. He did not have to examine thewound to see how deadly it was; one glance was enough. Shot a fewinches under the heart, McCay was dying on his feet.
"I'm done--all right," he grunted. "Listen, Tip. And you, Kid Wolf.I know yo're a true-blue friend. I want yuh to recover those cattle,if yuh ever get out of here alive. Yuh promise to try?" He turnedglazing eyes at the Texan. "The cattle should go--to Tip's mother.She's in Dodge City."
"Believe me, sah," promised Kid Wolf earnestly, "if we evah get out ofthis trap alive, Tip and I will do ouah best."
The stricken man's face lighted. He grasped his son, Tip, with onehand, the Texan with the other.
"I'll pass on easier now."
Suddenly he drew himself up to his full height of well over six feet,squared his enormous shoulders, and with crimson welling from hiswound, walked firmly and steadily to the door and began kicking thebarricade aside.
"What are yuh doin'?" one of the defenders cried, thinking he wasdelirious from his hurt.
McCay, fighting against the weakness that threatened to overcome him,turned with a smile, grim and terrible.
"I'm goin' out there," he said, "to take some of those devils--with me!"
In vain Kid Wolf and Tip attempted to restrain him. The old man wavedthem back.
"I'm done for, anyway," he said. "I haven't got ten minutes to live.What if they do fill me with lead? I'll get one or two while they'redoin' it!"
He seemed stronger now than ever. Sheer will power was keeping him onhis feet. Seizing two revolvers, one in each big fist, he wabbledthrough the door.
With horror-widened eyes, they watched his reeling progress. Hefaltered to the hitch rack with bullets humming all around him. Heclung to it for a moment, then went on, stalking toward the Idle Hourlike grim vengeance! His guns sputtered red fire and bursts of blackpowder smoke. Hit time after time--they could see the dust fly fromhis clothing as he staggered along under the dreadful impacts--he keptgoing. It was glorious, terrible!
Tip hid his eyes, with a despairing cry. Kid Wolf watched, his facewhite under his sunburn.
Up to the very door of the Hardy refuge, the old man walked, his gunshammering claps of thunder. Hit several times in the body, he sprawledonce and fell, but was on his feet again before the smoke drifted away.He plunged through the door, and The Kid saw two men drop under hisblazing guns. Then McCay, too, fell--for the last time.
"Yo' dad was one game hombre, Tip," murmured the Texan, putting acomforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "Let's hope that when ouah turncomes, we can go as bravely."
He had never seen such an exhibition of undaunted courage. Althoughthe tragedy had clutched at his heart, the spectacle had thrilled him,too. He knew that if he should escape, he would do his best to makegood his promise to Old Beef McCay!
The McCay store was surrounded on all sides, and its four walls werescarred and pitted with bullet holes. And night was coming on rapidly.Kid Wolf saw the peril of their position. He knew, only too well, thatthe darkness would add to their troubles.
Twilight was deepening into dusk. Soon it became dark, and the moonwould not be up for an hour. Kid Wolf, Tip McCay, and their fourcompanions were never more alert. But even their keen eyes could notwatch everything.
Young McCay was very pale. His father's death had touched him deeply,and fury against his killers burned in his glance. The others, too,were grim, thinking not of their own peril, but of the murderous Hardygang. Thirsty for vengeance, they kept their eyes glued to theirpeepholes, fingers on gun triggers.
Tip had found a friend in Kid Wolf. No words were wasted on sympathynow, or regrets, but Tip knew that the drawling Texan understood.
There was little shooting being done now, and the suspense was tellingon the nerves of all of them. What was Hardy up to? Would he againattempt to batter down the door and force a way in, under cover ofdarkness this time? But they were not left long in doubt.
"I smell smoke!" cried Blake.
Immediately afterward a sharp, crackling sound came to their ears.Hardy's gang had set fire to the store! Under cover of darkness, oneof the slinking Indians had crept up and ignited a pile of oil-soakedrags against the logs of the building. The flames rose high, lickinghungrily upward.
"Get water!" some one shouted.
A bucketful or two from their supply tossed accurately through aloophole by Kid Wolf extinguished the blaze before it could risehigher. It was a close call, and it showed them what to expect now.The Indian's mistake had been in setting his fire where it could bereached by the defenders.
"We were pretty blamed lucky," Caldwell began. "If thet fire----"
"Not so lucky," sang out the Texan. "Look at _that_!"
From the direction of the saloon, a half dozen streaks of flame shot upinto the sky like so many rockets. Fire whistled in the wind. Thestreaks were burning arrows, fired by Hardy's red-skinned cutthroats!
"That settles it!" groaned Tip resignedly. "They're fallin' on theroof!"
It was a wonder Hardy's evil brain hadn't thought of it before.Possibly some of his savage recruits had suggested it. At any rate, itwas more to the rustler chief's purpose than smashing in the door. Itwould soon be all over for the defenders now.
In a breath, the roof was afire. Little jets of smoke began to spurtdown from the beams over their heads, and the flames were fanned into aroar by the wind. Desperately the little handful of fighters exchangedglances. Things looked black indeed. They could not remain long inthe burning death trap, and outside was Hardy's gang, waiting in thedarkness to shoot them down if they ventured to escape.
"Steady, boys!" encouraged the Texan. "Theah may be a chance fo' usyet."
But one of them--Blake--was overcome with terror. In spite of what theothers did to restrain him, he ran outside, tearing his way through thebarricade. His hands were raised wildly over his head in token ofsurrender. But that made no difference to Hardy. There was a dullspat, and Blake went sprawling, shot through the heart.
"I hope nobody else tries that," drawled The Kid. "When we go, let'sgo togethah. By the light of this fiah they can see the colah of ouaheyes. We haven't a chance in the world to escape that way."
"We can't stay here and burn to death!" groaned Terry White.
The heat and smoke were driving them out of the main room. Alreadyflames were creeping down the walls, and the air was as hot as thebreath of an oven. Their faces were blistered, their exposed handscooked. Tip's coat was afire, as all fiv
e of them made a dash for thesmaller room, taking the extra guns and ammunition with them.
This gave them a short respite. As yet the fire had not reached thisapartment, although it would not take long. The smoke was soon sothick as nearly to be blinding. Stationing themselves at theloopholes, they began to work havoc with their rifles and revolvers.For the outlaws, bolder now, had ventured closer and made good targetsin the glare of the burning building.
Suddenly there was a tremendous crash. The roof over the main room hadcome smashing in! Instantly the fire roared louder; tongues of itbegan to lick through the walls. Wood popped, and the heat becamemaddening. One side of the room became a mass of flames. Theimprisoned men began to wet their clothing with the little water thatwas left.
"The stable!" ordered Kid Wolf. "Quick!"
The stable was built against the side of the store in the rear, and adoor of the smaller room opened into it. There they must make theirlast stand.
The horses--and among them was Kid Wolf's white charger, Blizzard--weretrembling with fear. They seemed to know, as well as their masters,that they were in terrible danger.
"We'll make ouah get-away with 'em, when the time comes," drawled theTexan.
"Not a chance in the world, Kid!" Tip groaned.
"Just leave it to me," was the quiet reply. "We've got a slim chance,if mah idea works."
Fanned by the wind, the flames soon were eating at the stable. Andonce caught, it burned like tinder. The horses screamed as the firelicked at them, and all was confusion. To make matters worse, bulletsripped through continually.
The Hardy band had gathered about the burning buildings in a closering, ready to shoot down any one the instant he showed himself. Thesituation looked hopeless.
"Stay in there if yuh want to!" a voice shouted outside. "Burn up, ortake lead! It's all the same to us!"
The heat-tortured Scotty staggered to his feet and groped toward one ofthe plunging, screaming horses.
"Lead is the easiest way," he choked. "They'll get me, but I'm goin'to try and ride this hoss out o' here!"
"Wait a minute!" Kid Wolf cried. "All get yo' hosses ready and makethe break when I say the word. But not until!"
Gritting their teeth, they prepared to endure the baking heat for a fewminutes more. They did not know what Kid Wolf was going to do, butthey had faith that he would do something. And they knew, as thingsstood, that they could not hope for anything but death if they tried toescape now.
The stable was a mass of flames. The walls were crumbling and fallingin. The Texan gave his final orders.
"If any of us get through," he gasped, "we'll meet on the ChisholmTrail--below heah. Ride hard, with heads low--when I say the word!"
Then Kid Wolf played his trump card. Upon leaving the store itself, hehad taken a small keg with him--a powder keg. Until now, none of theothers had noticed it. Holding it in his two hands, he darted throughthe door into the open! Bits of burning wood were all about him;flames licked at his boots as he stood upright, the keg over his head.
"Scattah!" he shouted at the astonished Hardy gang. "I'm blowin' usall to kingdom come!"
The Texan made a glorious picture as he stood there, framed in red andyellow. Fire was under his feet and on every side. The glow of itilluminated his face, which was stained with powder smoke and blackenedby the flames. His eyes shone joyously, and a laugh of defiance andrecklessness was on his lips as he swung the poised keg aloft.
The Hardy gang, frozen with terror for an instant, scattered. They ranlike frightened jack rabbits. To shoot Kid Wolf would have been easy,but none of them dared to attempt it. For if the keg was dropped, onespark would set it off. Overcome with panic, the ring of outlawsmelted into the night.
The Texan gave the signal, and Tip, Caldwell, Scotty, and White toreout of the doorway on their frightened horses, heads low, scattering asthey came. Kid Wolf whistled sharply for Blizzard and pulled himselfeffortlessly into the saddle as the big white horse went by at a madgallop. He tossed away the keg as he did so.
The Hardy faction began shooting then, but it was too late. Bulletshummed over the heads of the escaping riders, but not one found itsmark.
Kid Wolf found himself riding alongside Tip McCay. The others hadtaken different routes. The sounds of guns behind them were rapidlygrowing fainter, and they were hidden by the pitch darkness. Kid Wolfheard Tip laughing to himself--a rather high-pitched, nervous laugh.
"Are yo' all right, Tip?" sang out the Texan.
"Great! Yore plan worked to a T! But do yuh know what was in thatpowder keg yuh used?"
"Yes, I knew all the time," chuckled The Kid. "It wasn't powdah atall. It was lime. I found that out when I tried to load a Sharpsrifle from it. But just the same, Tip, the bluff worked!"
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