"Yo're a liar!" the train commander snarled.
Kid Wolf tried to keep his anger from mounting. This was the thanks he got for trying to help these people!
"I'll prove it," sighed the kid patiently. "What rivah was that yo' crossed a few days ago?"
"Why, the Red River; we crossed it long ago," Modoc sneered. "Yo're either a liar or a fool, Kid! And I'd advise yuh to mind yore own business."
"Call me 'Wolf,'" said the Texan, a ring of steel in his voice. "I'm just 'The Kid' to friends. Others call me by mah last name. And speakin' of the trail, that wasn't the Red Rivah yo' crossed. It was the Wichita. And yo' must have gone ovah the Wichita Mountains, too."
"The Wichita!" ejaculated one of the other men. "Why, Modoc, yuh told us——"
"And I told yuh right!" said the leader furiously. "I've been over this route before, and I know just where we are."
"Yo're in The Terror's territory," drawled The Kid softly. "And I've heahd from a reliable source that he's planned to raid yo'."
The others paled at the mention of The Terror. But Modoc raised his voice in fury.
"Who are yuh goin' to believe?" he shouted. "This upstart, or me? Why, for all we know"—his voice dropped to a taunting sneer—"he might be a spy for The Terror himself—probably measurin' the strength of our outfit!"