"Well, there's goin' to be one mighty sick child for somebody to nurse,
right soon," stated Pete.

"I have said that it is bad that you ride to Showdown. But you will go
there--and he whom men call The Spider--he shall be your friend--even
with his life."

As quietly as she came the Mexican woman departed, leaving Boca and
Pete gazing at each other in the dusk. "She makes me afraid
sometimes," whispered Boca.

"Sounds like she could jest plumb see what she was talkin' about. Kind
of second-sight, I reckon. Wonder why she didn't put me wise to Malvey
when I lit in here with him? It would 'a' saved a heap of trouble."

"It is the dream," said Boca. "These things she has seen in a dream."

"I ain't got nothin' against your ole--your mother, Boca, but by the
way I'm feelin', she's sure due to have a bad one, right soon."

"You do not believe?" queried Boca quite seriously.

"Kind of--half. I don't aim to know everything."

"She said you would come back," and Boca smiled.

"_That_ dream'll sure come true. I ain't forgettin'. But I ain't
goin' to wait till you're gone."

Boca touched Pete's hand. "And you will bring me a present. A
dress--or a ring, perhaps?"

"You kin jest bank on that! I don't aim to travel where they make 'em
reg'lar, but you sure get that present--after I settle with Malvey."

"That is the way with men," pouted Boca. "They think only of the
quarrel."

"You got me wrong, senorita. I don't want to kill nobody. The big
idee is to keep from gittin' bumped off myself. Now you'd think a
whole lot of me if I was to ride off and forgit all about what Malvey
done?"

"I would go with you," said Boca softly.

"Honest? Well, you'd sure make a good pardner." Pete eyed the girl
with a new interest. Then he shook his head. "I--you'd sure make a
good pardner--but it would be mighty tough for you. I'd do most
anything--but that. You see, Chicita, I'm in bad. I'm like to get
mine most any time. And I ain't no ladies' man--nohow."

"But you will come back?" queried Boca anxiously.

"As sure as you're livin'! Only you want to kind o' eddicate your ole
man to handle bottles more easy-like. He ought to know what they're
made for."

"Your head--it is cool," said Boca, reaching up and touching Pete's
forehead.

"Oh, I'm feelin' fine, considerin'."

"Then I am happy," said Boca.

Pete never knew just how he happened to find Boca's hand in his own.
But he knew that she had a