Malvey winked at The Spider.  “You ain’t ridin’ back that way to-day, mebby?  I’d like to send word—­”

Pete shook his head.  “Nope.  I aim to stay right here a spell.”

“If you’re intendin’ to keep that horse out there, perhaps you’d like to feed him.”  And The Spider indicated the direction of the corral with a twist of the head.

“Which is correct,” said Pete.

“Help yourself,” said The Spider.

“I get you,” said Pete significantly; and he turned and strode out.

“What in hell is he talkin’ about?” queried Malvey.

“His horse.”

Malvey frowned.  “Some smooth kid, eh?”

The Spider nodded.

Pete appreciated that his own absence was desired; that these men were quietly curious to find out who he was—­and what he had done that brought him to Showdown.  But Malvey knew nothing about Pete, nor of any recent trouble over Concho way.  And Pete, unsaddling his pony, knew that he would either make good with The Spider or else he would make a mistake, and then there would be no need for further subterfuge.  Pete surveyed the corral and outbuildings.  The whole arrangement was cleverly planned.  He calculated from the position of the sun that it lacked about three hours of noon.  Well, so far he had played his hand with all the cards on the table—­card for card with The Spider alone.  Now there would be a new deal.  Pete would have to play accordingly.

When he again entered the saloon, from the rear, The Spider and Malvey were standing out in the road, gazing toward the north.  “I see only three of them,” he heard The Spider say in his peculiar, high-pitched voice.  And Pete knew that the speech was intended for his ear.

“Nope.  Four!” said Malvey positively.

Pete leaned his elbow on the bar and watched them.  Malvey was obviously acting his part, but The Spider’s attitude seemed sincere.  “Pete,” he called, “Malvey says there are four riders drifting in from the north.  I make it three.”

“You’re both wrong and you got about three hours to find it out in,” said Pete.

Malvey and The Spider glanced at one another.  Evidently Pete was more shrewd than they had suspected.  And evidently he would be followed to Showdown.

“It’s a killing,” whispered The Spider.  “I thought that it was.  How do you size him up?”

“Pretty smooth—­for a kid,” said Malvey.

“Worth a blanket?” queried The Spider, which meant, worth hiding from the law until such time as| a blanket was not necessary.

“I’d say so.”

They turned and entered the saloon.  The Spider crept from the middle of his web and made plain his immediate desire.  “Strangers are welcome in Showdown, riding single,” he told Pete.  “We aren’t hooked up to entertain a crowd.  If you got friends coming—­friends that are suffering to see you—­why, you ain’t here when they come. And you ain’t been here.  If nobody is following your smoke, why, take your time.”