"Kid!" he gasped, horrified.
"Steady, son," said Kid Wolf. "Steady!"
Quick hope had suddenly begun to beat in his breast. Deep within the mesquite thicket, he had caught sight of something white and moving. It was his horse! Blizzard had followed his master, and stood ready to do his bidding.
Already the grinning Apaches were coming forward with the stakes and ropes. Not a second was to be lost. It was a forlorn hope, but Kid Wolf knew that he could depend on Blizzard to do his best. Sharp and clear, the Texan gave the coyote yell!"
"Yip-yip-ee!"
What happened took place so suddenly that the Apaches never realized what it all was! Crash! Like a white, avenging ghost horse, the superb Texas charger leaped out of the mesquite, muscles bunched. It made the distance to its master's side in two flashing leaps, bowling over a half dozen Indians as it did so! The Apaches fell back, overcome with astonishment.
With a quick movement, Kid Wolf drew his knife, pulling it from his neck sheath like lightning. With it he felled the nearest warrior. Another step brought him to Blizzard's side.
Garvey and Shank, acting quicker than their red allies, drew their revolvers.
"Get him! Shoot 'em down!" they yelled.
But Kid Wolf had seized the gun he had placed in Blizzard's stirrup.
He dropped to his knees to the sand, just as lead hummed over his head.