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With some Chisum cowboys the Kid came into the saloon again in the evening, having in the meantime forgotten about Grant and his wager. Valdez held whispered confidence with him at the end of the bar.

"Better be on your guard, Billy," he said, "Grant's full of whisky and ugly. He took a couple of shots out of the back door at nothing this afternoon and muttered something about getting you. He might want to kill you for the glory of it or the the reward."

The Kid walked up to Grant in friendly wise.

"That's a pretty ivory-handled gun you've got, Grant," he said. "Let me have a look at it."

Suiting the action to the word, he coolly lifted Grant's six-hooter from its holster and examined it with a show of admiration. He noted empty cartridges in two chambers. Before handing the gun back he revolved the cylinder so that in the first two attempts to fire it the hammer would fall on the empty shells. The crowd had a drink or two. Edging around a corner of the bar and facing the Kid, Grant jerked out his revolver.

"I'll win my bet with you right now," he roared and, levelling the weapon full at the Kid's face, pulled the trigger, the hammer clicking harmlessly. Before the look of surprise faded from his drunken face, the Kid killed him with a bullet through his throat which cut his windpipe and shattered his backbone. The Kid laughed quietly as he dropped his six-shooter back into the scabbard.

"That's a good joke on Grant," he said. "And as I win the bet, Valdez, you might as well pass over that fifty dollars."

They will tell you in New Mexico that the Kid broke with John Chisum in these later years and, in his thefts,