"You play your own hand," said The Spider. And for once he meant it. He could scarcely believe that Young Pete had made it across the desert on foot—yet there was no horse in sight. If Young Pete could force himself to such a pace and survive he would become a mighty useful tool.
"Did Malvey play you?" queried The Spider.
"You ought to know."
"He said you were sick—down at Flores's rancho."
"Then he's here!" And Pete's dulling eyes brightened. "Well, I ain't as sick as he's goin' to be, Spider."
CHAPTER XXIV
"A RIDER STOOD AT THE LAMPLIT BAR"
Pete was surprised to find the darkened saloon cooler than the open desert, even at dawn; and he realized, after glancing about, that The Spider had closed the doors and windows during the night to shut out the heat.
"In here," said The Spider, opening the door back of the bar.