“You can’t tell,” said The Spider.

The president of the Stockmen’s Security sat turning over the papers on his desk.  It had been a long while since he had been in the saddle—­some eighteen or twenty years.  As a young man he had been sent into Mexico to prospect for oil.  There were few white men in Mexico then.  But despite their vicarious callings they usually stood by each other.  The Spider, happening along during a quarrel among the natives and the oil-men, took a hand in the matter, which was merely incidental to his profession.  The oil-men had managed to get out of that part of the country with the loss of but two men—­a pretty fair average, as things went those days.  Years afterwards the president of the Stockmen’s Security happened to meet The Spider in El Paso—­and he did not forget what he owed him.  The Spider at that time had considerable gold which he finally banked with the Stockmen’s Security at the other’s suggestion.  The arrangement was mutually agreeable.  The Spider knew that the president of the Stockmen’s Security would never disclose his identity to the authorities—­and Hodges felt that as a sort of unofficial trustee he was able to repay The Spider for his considerable assistance down in Mexico.

CHAPTER XXXIV

DORIS

Contrast to the rules of the hospital, the head-surgeon was chatting rather intimately with Pete’s nurse.  They were in the anteroom of the surgical ward.  She was getting ready to go on duty.

“No, Miss Gray,” said the surgeon positively, “he can’t hold out much longer unless we operate.  And I don’t think he could stand an operation.  He has amazing vitality, he’s young, and in wonderful condition—­outdoor life and pretty clean living.  But he don’t seem to care whether he lives or not.  Has he said anything to you about—­” The surgeon paused and cleared his throat.

“No.  He just stares at me.  Sometimes he smiles—­and, Dr. Andover, I’ve been here two years—­and I’m used to it, but I simply can’t help feeling—­that he ought to have a chance.”

The surgeon studied her wistful face and for a moment forgot that he was the head-surgeon of the General, and that she was a nurse.  He liked Doris Gray because of her personality and ability.  Two years of hard work at the General had not affected her quietly cheerful manner.

“You’re wearing yourself out worrying about this case,” said the surgeon presently.  “And that won’t do at all.”

She flushed and her seriousness vanished.  “I’m willing to,” she said simply.

The doctor smiled and shook his finger at her.  “Miss Gray, you know a good nurse—­”

“I know, Dr. Andover, but he hasn’t a friend in the world.  I asked him yesterday if I should write to any one, or do anything for him.  He just smiled and shook his head.  He doesn’t seem to be afraid of anything—­nor interested in anything.  He—­oh, his eyes are just like the eyes of a dog that is hurt and wants so much to tell you something, and can’t.  I don’t care what the newspapers say—­and those men from the police station!  I don’t believe he is really bad.  Now please don’t smile and tell me I’m silly.”