The fact was that Malvey had been only too sincere in his boorishness
toward Boca; Flores equally sincere in his indifference, and Boca
herself actually frightened by the turn Malvey's drink had taken. That
old Flores had knocked Pete out with a bottle was the one and
extravagant act that even Malvey himself could hardly have anticipated
had the whole miserable affair been prearranged. In his drunken
stupidity Flores blindly imagined that the young stranger was the cause
of the quarrel.
Pete, however, saw in it a frame-up to knock him out and make away with
his horse. And back of it all he saw The Spider's craftily flung web
that held him prisoner, afoot and among strangers. "They worked it
slick," he muttered.
Boca happened to glance up. Pete was standing bareheaded in the noon
sunlight. With an exclamation Boca rose and hastened to him. Young
Pete's eyes were sullen as she begged him to seek the shade of the
portal.
"Where's my horse?" he challenged, ignoring her solicitude.
She shook her head. "I do not know. Malvey is gone."
"That's a cinch! You sure worked it slick.
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