"Have chairs, gentlemen," The Kid invited, as he carefully closed the door.

The trio took chairs about the table, looking questioningly at the stranger. The oldest of them picked up a deck of cards and began to shuffle them absently. Kid Wolf quietly took his place among the trio.

"Boys," he asked slowly, "do yuh want jobs?"

There was a pause, during which the three punchers exchanged glances.

"Lay yore cards face up, stranger," invited one of them. "We'll listen, anyway, but----"

"I want yo' to go to work fo' the S Bar," said The Kid crisply.

"That settles that," growled the oldest puncher, after sending a searching glance at the Texan's face. The others looked amazed. "No.

We've quit the S Bar."

"Who suggested that yo' quit?" The Kid shot at them.

The man at the Texan's right flushed angrily. "I don't see that this is any of yore business, stranger," he barked.

"Men," said The Kid, and his voice was as chill as steel, "I'm makin'

this my business! Yo're comin' back to work fo' the S Bar!"

"And yo're backin' thet statement up--how?" demanded the oldest cow hand, suddenly ceasing to toy with the card deck.

"With these," returned Kid Wolf mildly.

The trio stared. The Kid had drawn his twin .45s and laid them on the table so quickly and so quietly that none of them had seen his arms move.

"Now, I hope," murmured The Kid, "that yo' rather listen to me talk than to those. I've only a few words to say. Boys, I was surprised.

I didn't think yo' would be the kind to leave a po' woman like Mrs.

Thomas in the lurch. Men who would do that, would do anything--would even run cattle into Mexico," he added significantly.

All three men flushed to the roots of their hair.

"Don't think we had anything to do with thet!" exclaimed one.

"We got a right to quit if we want to," put in the oldest with a defiant look.

"Boys, play square with me and yo' won't be sorry," Kid Wolf told them earnestly. "I know that all these things happened after yo' left.

Since then, cattle have been rustled and Mr. Thomas has been murdahed--yo' know that as well as I do. That woman might be yo'

mothah. She needs yo'. What's yo' verdict?"

There was a long silence. The three riders looked like small boys whose hands had been caught in the cooky jar.

"How much did Majah Stovah pay yo' to quit?" added the Texan suddenly.

The former S Bar men jumped nervously. The man at The Kid's left gulped.

"Well," he blurted, "we was only gettin' forty-five, and when Stover offered to double it, and with nothin' to do but lie around, why, we----"

"Things are changed now," said The Kid gently. "Ma Thomas is alone now."

"That's right," said the oldest awkwardly. "I suppose we ought to----"

"Ought to!" repeated one of the others, jumping to his feet. "By George, we will! I ain't the kind to go back on a woman like Mrs.

Thomas. I don't care what yuh others do!"

"That's what I say," chorused his two companions in the same breath.

"I'll show yo' I aim to play fair," Kid Wolf approved. He took a handful of gold pieces from his pocket and placed them on the table in a little pile. "This is all I have, but Mrs. Thomas isn't in a position to pay right now, so heah is yo' first month's wages in advance."

The three looked at him and gulped. If ever three men were ashamed, they appeared to be. The old cow-puncher pushed the pile back to The Kid.

"We ain't takin' it," he mumbled. "Don't get us wrong, partner. We ain't thet kind. We never would've quit the S Bar if it hadn't been for Steve Stacy--the foreman. And, of course, things was goin' all right at the ranch then. Guess it's all our fault, and we're willin'

to right it. We don't know yuh, but yo're O.K., son."

They shook hands warmly. The Kid learned that the oldest of the three was Anton. Wise was the bow-legged one, and Lathum was freckled and tall.

"Stacy hadn't better know about this," Lathum decided.

"I was hopin' to get him back," said The Kid.

"No chance. He's in with the major now," spoke up Wise. "So's Mullhall. Neither of 'em will listen--and they'll make trouble when they find we're goin' back."

"If yo'-all feel the same way as I do," Kid Wolf drawled as they filed out of the back room, "they won't have to make trouble. It'll be theah fo' 'em."

As they approached the bar, Anton clutched The Kid's elbow.

"There's Steve Stacy and Mullhall now," he warned in a low voice.

Stacy and Mullhall were big men, heavily built. Upon seeing the party emerge from the back room, they pushed away from the bar and came directly toward Kid Wolf, who was walking in the lead.

"Steve Stacy's the hombre in front," Wise whispered. "Be on yore guard."

The Kid knew the ex-foreman's type even before he spoke. He was the loud-mouthed and overbearing kind of waddy--a gunman first and a cowman afterward. His beefy face was flushed as red as his flannel shirt.

His eyes were fixed boldly on the Texan.

"The barkeeper tells me yuh were inquirin' fer me," he said heavily.

"What's on yore mind?"

Mullhall was directly behind him, insolent of face and bearing. The two seemed to be paying no attention to the trio of men behind The Kid.

"I was just goin' to offah yo' a chance to come back to the S Bar,"

explained Kid Wolf. "These three caballeros have already signed the pay roll again."

It was putting up the issue squarely, with no hedging. Both Stacy and Mullhall darkened with fury.

"What's yore little game? I guess it's about time to put an extra spoke in yore wheel!" snarled Mullhall, coming forward.

"Who in blazes are you?" sneered Stacy.