own were garnished with tin cans and trash, dirt and
desolation. Unlike the ordinary cow-town this place was not sprightly,
but morose, with an aspect of hating itself for existing. Even the
railroad swung many miles to the south as though anxious to leave the
town to its own pernicious isolation.

The fixed population consisted of a few Mexicans and one white man,
known as "The Spider," who ran the saloon and consequently owned
Showdown body and--but Showdown had no soul.

Men arrived and departed along the several desert trails that led in
and out of the town. These men seldom tarried long. And they usually
came alone, perchance from the Blue, the Gila, the T-Bar-T, or from
below the border, for their business was with the border rustlers and
parasites. Sheriffs of four counties seldom disturbed the place,
because a man who had got as far south as Showdown was pretty hard to
apprehend. From there to the border lay a trackless desert. Showdown
was a rendezvous for that inglorious legion, "The Men Who Can't Come
Back," renegades who when below the line worked machine guns for
whichever side of the argument promised the more loot. Horse- and
cattle-thieves, killers, escaped convicts, came and went--ominous birds
of passage, the scavengers of war and banditry.

The Spider was lean, with legs warped by long years in the saddle. He
was called The Spider because of his physical attributes as well as
because of his attitude toward life. He never went anywhere, yet he
accumulated sustenance. He usually had a victim tangled in his web.
It was said that The Spider never let a wounded outlaw die for lack of
proper attention if he considered the outlaw worth saving--as an
investment. And possibly this was the secret of his power, for he was
ever ready to grub-stake or doctor any gentleman in need or wounded in
a desert affair--and he had had a large experience in caring for
gun-shot wounds.

Pete, dismounting at the worn hitching-rail, entered the saloon, nodded
casually to The Spider, and called for a drink. The Spider, who always
officiated at the bar for politic reasons, aside from the selling of
liquor, noticed that the young stranger's eyes were clear and
steady--that he showed no trace of hard night-riding; yet he had
arrived in Showdown at sunup. As Pete drank, The Spider sized up his
horse--which looked fresh. He had already noticed that Pete's gun hung
well down and handy, and assumed correctly that it