He came quickly. "I'm expecting visitors," said The
Spider in Mexican. The other started toward the front doorway, but The
Spider called him back with a word, and gestured to the door back of
the bar--the doorway to The Spider's private room. The Mexican entered
the room and closed the door softly, drew up a chair, and sat close to
the door in the attitude of one who listens. Presently he heard the
patter of hoofs, the grunt of horses pulled up sharply, and the tread
of men entering the saloon. The Mexican drew his gun and rested his
forearm across his knees, the gun hanging easily in his half-closed
hand. He did not know who the men were nor how The Spider had known
that they were coming. But he knew what was expected of him in case of
trouble. The Spider sat directly across from the door behind the bar.
Any one talking with him would be between him and the door.
"Guess we'll have a drink--and talk later," said Houck. The Spider
glanced up from his card-game, and nodded casually.
The sound of shuffling feet, and the Mexican knew that the strangers
were facing the bar.
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