“Now you’re talkin’ business.”

“His business,” laughed the Texan.

“Nope—­The Spider’s,” asserted Pete.

“Your letter will keep,” said the foreman.  “Ed, you drift on along down the fence till you meet Harper.  Tell him it’s all right.”  And the foreman disappeared in the dusk to return astride a big cowhorse.  “We’ll ride over to the house,” said he.

Pete estimated that they had covered three or four miles before the ranch-buildings came in sight—­a dim huddle of angles against the starlit sky.  To his surprise the central building was roomy and furnished with a big table, many chairs, and a phonograph, while the floor was carpeted with Navajo blankets, and a big shaded hanging lamp illumined the table on which were scattered many dog-eared magazines and a few newspapers.  Pete had remarked upon the stables while turning his own horse into the corral.  “We got some fast ones,” was all that the foreman chose to say, just then.

Pete and the foreman had something to eat in the chuck-house, and returned to the larger building.  Brent read The Spider’s letter, rolled the end of his silver-gray mustache between his thumb and forefinger, and finally glanced up.  “So, you’re Pete Annersley?”

“That’s my name.”

“Have a chair.  You’re right young to be riding alone.  How did you come to throw in with The Spider?”

Pete hesitated.  Why should he tell this man anything other than that he had been sent by The Spider with the letter which—­he had been told—­would explain his presence and embody his instructions?

“Don’t he say in that letter?” queried Pete.

“He says you were mixed up in a bank robbery over to Enright,” stated the foreman.

“That’s a dam’ lie!” flared Pete.

“I reckon you’ll do,” said Brent, as he folded the letter.  The Spider had made that very statement in his letter to Brent for the purpose of finding out, through the foreman, whether or not Pete had taken it upon himself to read the letter before delivering it.  And Brent, aware of The Spider’s methods, realized at once why his chief had misstated the facts.  It was evident that Pete had not read the letter, otherwise he would most probably have taken his cue from The Spider’s assertion about the bank robbery and found himself in difficulties, for directly after the word “Enright” was a tiny “x”—­a code letter which meant “This is not so.”

“Reckon I’ll do what?” queried Pete.  “Let The Spider or anybody like him run a whizzer on me after I run a good hoss ragged to git here with his doggone letter—­and then git stuck up like I was a hoss-thief?  You got another guess, uncle.”

The old cowman’s eyes twinkled.  “You speak right out in meetin’, don’t you, son?” His drawl was easy and somehow reminded Pete of Pop Annersley.  “Now there’s some wouldn’t like that kind of talk—­even from a kid.”

“I’d say it to The Spider as quick as I would to you,” asserted Pete.