Following its usual course, the devil-wind died down suddenly at dusk of the third day.  A few Mexicans drifted into the saloon that evening and following them several white men up from the border.  Pete, who sat in the patio where he could watch the outer doorway of the saloon, smoked and endeavored to shape a plan for his future.  He was vaguely surprised that a posse had not yet ridden into Showdown; for The Spider had said nothing of Houck and his men, and Pete was alert to that contingency, in that he had planned to slip quietly from the patio to the corral at the back, in case they did ride in, estimating that he would have time to saddle a horse and get away before they could search the premises, even if they went that far; and he doubted that they would risk that much without The Spider’s consent.  Would The Spider give such consent?  Pete doubted it, not because he trusted The Spider so much, but rather because the deliberate searching of premises by a posse would break an established precedent, observed in more than one desert rendezvous.  That simple and eloquent statement, “Go right ahead and search—­but you’ll search her in smoke,” had backed down more than one posse, as Pete knew.

Already the monotony of loafing at The Spider’s place had begun to wear on Pete, who had slept much for two days and nights, and he was itching to do something.  He had thought of riding down and across the border and had said so to The Spider, who had advised him against it.  During their talk Malvey’s name was mentioned.  Pete wondered why that individual had chosen to keep from sight so long, not aware that The Spider had sent word to Malvey, who was at Mescalero’s ranch, a few miles east of Showdown, that a posse from the Blue had ridden in and might be somewhere in the vicinity.

Little by little Pete began to realize that his present as well as his future welfare depended on caution quite as much as upon sheer courage.  Insidiously The Spider’s influence was working upon Pete, who saw in him a gambler who played for big stakes with a coldness and soullessness that was amazing—­and yet Pete realized that there was something hidden deep in The Spider’s cosmos that was intensely human.  For instance, when Pete had given up the idea of crossing the border and had expressed, as much by his countenance as his speech, his imperative need to be out and earning a living, The Spider had offered to put him to work on his ranch, which he told Pete was of considerable extent, and lay just north of the national boundary and well out of the way of chance visitors.  “Cattle”—­The Spider had said—­“and some horses.”

Pete thought he knew about how that ranch had been stocked, and why it was located where it was.  But then, cattle-stealing was not confined to any one locality.  Any of the boys riding for the Blue or the Concho or the T-Bar-T were only too eager to brand a stray calf and consider that they were but serving their employer’s interests, knowing that their strays were quite as apt to be branded by a rival outfit.  So it went among men supposed to be living under the law.