"Kid Wolf!" he almost screamed, and at the words he whirled up his black and ugly double-barreled pistol!
Span-ng-g-g-g! Br-r-rang! Both barrels of the derringer exploded in two quick roars. The leaden balls, however, went wild. A steel hand had closed lightning-swift on Gentleman John's right wrist.
"Be careful," the Texan mocked. "Yo' almost put out the lamp."
A terrific wrench made the bones pop in the cattle king's hand, and with a yell of pain he let go. Kid Wolf took the derringer, empty now, and tossed it contemptuously to one side.
"I'm ashamed of yo'," he drawled, with a slow smile. "Yo' ought to know bettah than to use a toy like that. Sit down on the bed, sah. I have a few things to say to yo'."
In his left hand The Kid held a big Colt .45. Gentleman John obeyed.
"My men will kill yuh fer this!" he raged.
"Yo' haven't any men, sah. They're done. And now yo' are done." Kid Wolf rolled a cigarette and lighted it over the lamp chimney. "Gentleman John," he drawled, "whoevah named yo' suah had a sense of humah. Yo' are a murderah, and a cowardly one, because yo' have othahs do yo' dirty work."
"Kill me and get it over!" jerked Gentleman John.
"Really, yo' shouldn't judge me by what yo' would do yo'self undah the circumstances," said The Kid mildly. "I'm not heah to kill yo'. I'm heah to take yo' back to Skull fo' trial and punishment."