"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."