The draw had been magical, so swiftly had the Texan's hands snapped down at his hips. Al Arnold, alone of the six riders, saw the movement in time even to think about drawing his own weapon. And perhaps it would have been better if he had not seen, for his own gun pull was slow and clumsy in comparison with Kid Wolf's. His right hand had moved but a few inches when the Texan's left-hand Colt spat a wicked tongue of flame.
Before the thunder of the explosion could be heard, the leaden slug tore its way through Arnold's wrist. Before the puff of black powder smoke had drifted away, Arnold's gun was thudding to the ground. The others dared not draw, as Kid Wolf's other six-gun still swept them. They knew that the Texan could not fail to get one or more of them, and they hesitated. Garvey himself remained motionless, frozen in the saddle. His lips trembled with rage.
"I'm not a killah," Kid Wolf drawled. "I nevah take life unless it's forced on me. If I did, I'd soon make Lost Springs a bettah place to live in. Now turn yo' backs with yo' hands in the air—and ride! The next time I shoot, it's goin' to be on sight! Vamose! Pronto!"
Muttering angrily under their breath, Garvey and his gunmen obeyed the order. Yet Kid Wolf knew that the trouble had not been averted, but merely postponed. He was not through with the Lost Springs bandit gang.
The driver of the coach—the only member of the posse who had remained loyal in the face of peril—was a man of courage. Johnson was his name, and he offered his adobe house as a place of refuge for the night.
"I'm thinkin' yuh'll be needin' it," he told the Texan. "We can stand 'em off there, for a while, anyway. Garvey will have a hundred Mexes and Injuns with him before mornin'."
Kid Wolf accepted, and the coach was deserted. They buried the bodies of the men they had brought in the stage, not in the Lost Springs graveyard, but in an arroyo near it. Then they removed the valuable express box and took it with them to the Johnson adobe.
The house was a two-room affair, not more than a quarter of a mile from the Springs, and still closer to Boot Hill. On the side next to the water hole, the grass and tulles grew nearly waist-high. On the other three sides, barren ground swept out as far as eye could reach.
Kid Wolf placed the express box in the one living room of the hut. As a great deal might depend upon having horses ready, Blizzard, along with two pinto ponies, was quartered in the other apartment. This redone, and with one of the four men standing watch at all times, they prepared a hasty meal.
"One thing we lack that we got to have," stated Johnson. "It's water. I'll take a bucket and go to the spring. I know the path through the tulles."