"Fer trial!" repeated the cattle king. "Why, there ain't any law——"
"I hope yo' don't think," drawled the Texan, "that I wasted the time I spent in town. Theah's a new cattlemen's organization theah—and they've decided on drastic measures."
"Yuh can't prove a thing!" Gentleman John shot at him loudly.
The Kid raised his eyebrows.
"No?" he said softly. "Yo' men slipped up a little and left evidence when they murdahed Joe Morton. They left the bill o' sale he wouldn't sign! It'll go hahd with yo, but I'm givin' yo' one chance."
Kid Wolf glanced around the room, and his eyes fell on paper and pen near the lamp. Placing his gun at his elbow, within easy reach, the Texan wrote steadily for a full minute. Then he turned and handed the cattle king the slip of paper.
"Yo' through in Nueva Mex, Gentleman John," The Kid drawled. "It's just a question of who falls heir to yo' holdin's. Read that ovah."
The cattle king read it. It was brief, but to the point:
I, Gentleman John, do hereby give and hand over all my estates, land, holdings, and live stock to Red Morton, of Skull County, New Mexico, for consideration received.
"Theah's a bill o' sale fo' yo' to sign." The Texan smiled grimly.