ete shook his head. "I don't
just sabe."

"I saw him watching you once--when you were asleep," said Doris. "He
seemed terribly anxious. I was afraid of him--and I felt sorry for
him--"

Pete lay back and stared at the opposite wall. "He sure was game!" he
murmured. "And he was my friend."

Pete turned his head quickly as Doris stepped toward the door. "Could
you git me some of them papers--about The Spider?"

"Yes," she answered hesitatingly, as she left the room.

Pete closed his eyes. He could see The Spider standing beside his bed
supported by two internes, dying on his feet, fighting for breath as he
told Pete to "see that party--in the letter"--and "that some one had
trailed him too close." And "close the cases," The Spider had said.
The game was ended.

When Doris came in again Pete was asleep. She laid a folded newspaper
by his pillow, gazed at him for a moment, and stepped softly from the
room.

At noon she brought his luncheon. When she came back for the tray she
noticed that he had not eaten, nor would he talk while she was there.
But that evening he seemed more like himself. After she had taken his
temperature he jokingly asked her if he bit that there little glass
dingus in two what would happen?"

"Why, I'd have to buy a new one," she replied, smiling.

Pete's face expressed surprise. "Say!" he queried, sitting up, "did
The Spider pay you for bein' my private nurse, too?"

"He must have made some arrangement with Dr. Andover. He put me in
charge of your case."

"But don't you git anything extra for--for smilin' at
folks--and--coaxin' 'em to eat--and wastin' your time botherin' around
'em most all day?"

"The hospital gets the extra money. I get my usual salary."

"You ain't mad at me, be you?"

"Why, no, why should I be?"

"I dunno. I reckon I talk kind of rough--and that mebby I said
somethin'--but--would you mind if I was to tell you somethin'. I been
thinkin' about it ever since you brung that paper. It's somethin'
mighty important--and--"

"Your dinner is getting cold," said Doris.

"Shucks! I jest got to tell somebody! Did you read what was in that
paper?"

Doris nodded.

"About that fella called Steve Gary that The Spider bumped off in that
gamblin'-joint?"

"Yes."

"Well, if that's right--and the papers ain't got things twisted, like
when they said The Spider was my father--why, if it _was_ Steve Gary--I
kin go back to the Concho and kind o' start ove