ide Pete from any one who might
become too solicitous about his welfare and so disturb the present
peace of Showdown.

The Spider's plan was simple, and his instructions to Malvey brief.
While Pete saddled his horse, The Spider talked with Malvey. "Take him
south--to Flores's rancho. Tell Flores he is a friend of mine. When
you get a chance, take his horse, and fan it over to Blake's. Leave
the horse there. I want you to set him afoot at Flores's. When I'm
ready, I'll send for him."

"What do I git out of it?"

"Why, the horse. Blake'll give you a hundred for that cayuse, if I am
any judge of a good animal."

"He'll give me fifty, mebby. Blake ain't payin' too much for any
hosses that I fetch in."

"Then I'll give you the other fifty and settle with Blake later."

"That goes, Spider."

The Spider and Malvey stepped out as Pete had it out with Blue Smoke in
front of the saloon.

"We're ridin'," said Malvey, as Pete spurred his pony to the rail.

Pete leaned forward and offered his hand to The Spider. "I'll make
this right with you," said Pete.

"Forget it," said The Spider.

Showdown dozed in the desert heat. The street was deserted. The
Mexican who helped about the saloon was asleep in the patio. The
Spider opened a new pack of cards, shuffled them, and began a game of
solitaire. Occasionally he glanced out into the glare, blinking and
muttering to himself. Malvey and Pete had been gone about an hour when
a lean dog that had lain across from the hitching-rail, rose, shook
himself, and turned to gaze up the street. The Spider called to the
man in the patio. He came quickly. "I'm expecting visitors," said The
Spider in Mexican. The other started toward the front doorway, but The
Spider called him back with a word, and gestured to the door back of
the bar--the doorway to The Spider's private room. The Mexican entered
the room and closed the door softly, drew up a chair, and sat close to
the door in the attitude of one who listens. Presently he heard the
patter of hoofs, the grunt of horses pulled up sharply, and the tread
of men entering the saloon. The Mexican drew his gun and rested his
forearm across his knees, the gun hanging easily in his half-closed
hand. He did not know who the men were nor how The Spider had known
that they were coming. But he knew what was expected of him in case of
trouble. The Spider sat directly across from the door behind the bar.
Any one talking with him