“Well, they can wait till hell freezes afore I’ll tell ’em,” said Pete.

“And, meanwhile, you’ll also have to—­er—­wait, I imagine.  Have you any friends who might—­er—­use their influence?  I think you might get out on bail.  I can’t say.”

“Nope.”

“Then the best thing that you can do is to tell a straight story and hope that the authorities will believe you.  Well, I’ve got to go.  By the way, how are you fixed financially?  Just let me know if you want anything?”

“Thanks, Doc.  From what you say I reckon the county will be payin’ my board.”

“I hope not.  But you’ll need some clothing and underwear—­the things you had on are—­”

Pete nodded.

“Don’t hesitate to ask me,”—­and Andover rose.  “Your friend—­er—­Ewell—­arranged for any little contingency that might arise.”

“Then I kin go most any time?” queried Pete.

“We’ll see how you are feeling next week.  Meanwhile keep out in the sun—­but wrap up well.  Good-bye!”

Pete realized that to make a fresh start in life he would have to begin at the bottom.

He had ever been inclined to look forward rather than backward—­to put each day’s happenings behind him as mere incidents in his general progress—­and he began to realize that these happenings had accumulated to a bulk that could not be ignored, if the fresh start that he contemplated were to be made successfully.  He recalled how he had felt when he had squared himself with Roth for that six-gun.  But the surreptitious taking of the six-gun had been rather a mistake than a deliberate intent to steal.  And Pete tried to justify himself with the thought that all his subsequent trouble had been the result of mistakes due to conditions thrust upon him by a fate which had slowly driven him to his present untenable position—­that of a fugitive from the law, without money and without friends.  He came to the bitter conclusion that his whole life had been a mistake—­possibly not through his own initiative, but a mistake nevertheless.  He knew that his only course was to retrace and untangle the snarl of events in which his feet were snared.  Accustomed to rely upon his own efforts—­he had always been able to make his living—­he suddenly realized the potency of money; that money could alleviate suffering, influence authority, command freedom—­at least temporary freedom—­and even in some instances save life itself.

Yet it was characteristic of Pete that he did not regret anything that he had done, in a moral sense.  He had made mistakes—­and he would have to pay for them—­but only once.  He would not make these mistakes again.  A man was a fool who deliberately rode his horse into the same box canon twice.

Pete wondered if his letter to Jim Bailey had been received and what Bailey’s answer would be.  The letter must have reached Bailey by this time.  And then Pete thought of The Spider’s note, advising him to call at the Stockmen’s Security; and of The Spider’s peculiar insistence that he do so—­that Hodges would “use him square.”