“I reckon I kin make it.”

“Call a cab if you say the word.”

“I—­I figured I could walk,” said Pete, biting his lips.  But a few more steps convinced him that the sheriff was taking no risk whatever in allowing him his liberty.

“Like to see old E.H. myself,” stated the sheriff.  “Never rode in a cab in my life.  Let’s try one.”

And the sprightly sheriff of Sanborn County straightway hailed a languorous cabby who sat dozing on the “high seat” of a coupe to which was attached the most voluptuous-looking white horse that Pete had ever seen.  Evidently the “hospital stand” was a prosperous center.

“We want to go to the Stockmen’s Security Bank,” said the sheriff, as the coupe drew up to the curb.  The driver nodded.

Pete leaned back against the cushions and closed his eyes.  Owen glanced at him and shook his head.  There was nothing vicious or brutal in that face.  It was not the face of a killer.

Pete sat up suddenly.  “I was forgittin’ I was broke,” and he turned to Owen.

“No.  There’s sixty-seven dollars and two-bits of yours over at the station, along with your gun and a bundle of range clothes.”

“I forgot that.”

“Feel better?”

“Fine—­when I’m settin’ still.”

“Well, we’re here.  Go right in.  I’ll wait.”

Pete entered the bank and inquired for the president, giving the attendant his name in lieu of the card for which he was asked.  He was shown in almost immediately, and a man somewhat of The Spider’s type assured him that he was the president and, as he spoke, handed Pete a slip of paper such as Pete had never before seen.

“You’re Peter Annersley?” queried Hodges.

“Yes.  What’s this here?”

“It’s more money than I’d want to carry with me on the street,” said Hodges.  “Have you anything that might identify you?”

“What’s the idee?”

“Mr. Ewell had some money with us that he wished transferred to you, in case anything happened to him.  I guess you know what happened.”  Then reflectively, “Jim was a queer one.”

“You mean The Spider wanted me to have this?”

“Yes.  That slip of paper represents just twenty-four thousand dollars in currency.  If you’ll just endorse it—­”

“But it ain’t my money!” said Pete.

“You’re a fool if you don’t take it, young man.  From what I have heard you’ll need it.  It seems that Jim took a fancy to you.  Said you had played square with him—­about that last deposit, I suppose.  You don’t happen to have a letter with you, from him, I suppose, do you?”

“I got this,”—­and Pete showed President Hodges The Spider’s note, which Hodges read and returned.  “That was like Jim.  He wouldn’t listen to me.”

“And this was his money?” Pete was unable to realize the significance of it all.

“Yes.  Now it’s yours.  You’re lucky!  Mighty lucky!  Just endorse the draft—­right here.  I’ll have it cashed for you.”