a showdown, that there spider bite--"

"The ranch-house is yonder," said the Texan. "Just you ride along the
way you're headed. That's a pretty horse you're settin' on. If it
wa'n't so dark I'd say he carried the Concho brand."

"That's him," said Pete.

"He's a long jump from home, friend."

"And good for twice that distance, neighbor."

"You sure please me most to death," drawled the Texan.

"Then I reckon you might call in that there coyote in the brush over
there that's been holdin' a gun on me ever since we been talkin',"--and
Pete gestured with his bridle hand toward the clump of chaparral.

"Sam," called the Texan, "he says he don't like our way of welcomin'
strangers down here. He's right friendly, meetin' one man at a
time--but he don't like a crowd, nohow."

A figure loomed in the dusk--a man on foot who carried a rifle across
his arm. Pete could not distinguish his features, but he saw that the
man was tall, booted and spurred, and evidently a line-rider with the
Texan.

"This here young stinging-lizard says he wants to see the fo'man, Sam.
Kin you help him out?"

"Go ahead and speak your piece," said the man with the rifle.

"She's spoke," said Pete.

"I'm the man you're huntin'," asserted the other.

"You foreman?"

"The same."

"Thought you was jest a hand--ridin' fence, mebby." And as Pete spoke
he rolled a cigarette. His pony shied at the flare of the match, but
Pete caught an instant glimpse of a lean-faced, powerfully built man of
perhaps fifty years or more who answered The Spider's description of
the foreman. "I got a letter here for Sam Brent, foreman of the Olla,"
said Pete.

"Now you're talkin' business."

"His business," laughed the Texan.

"Nope--The Spider's," asserted Pete.

"Your letter will keep," said the foreman. "Ed, you drift on along
down the fence till you meet Harper. Tell him it's all right." And
the foreman disappeared in the dusk to return astride a big cowhorse.
"We'll ride over to the house," said he.

Pete estimated that they had covered three or four miles before the
ranch-buildings came in sight--a dim huddle of angles against the
starlit sky. To his surprise the central building was roomy and
furnished with a big table, many chairs, and a phonograph, while the
floor was carpeted with Navajo blankets, and a big shaded hanging lamp
illumined the table on which were scattered many dog-eared magazines
and a few newspapers. Pete had remarke