“Playin’ the nickel-in-the-slot machine,” said someone in the room. “Him and his pardner.”

“Which might be me, they’re talkin’ about,” reflected Pete. He moved up near the window.

“We’re lucky if we get away with it. The Spider....”

Pete recognized the voice of City Marshal Collins.

“Easy,” said the first speaker. “Bill is on the roof with a rope. A couple of minutes to twelve, Soapy ’ull start an argument with the Kid. Slicker ’ull switch off the lights. Just as he switches ’em off he’ll drop the Spider. I’ll raid the Spider’s safe an’ put the stuff in a pair of saddle bags. Bill will let down the rope through the skylight while the light is off. Up goes the cash. When the lights come on again, the Spider’ll be dead, an’ the dough and the Kid and his pardner ’ull be gone.”

“That sounds all right, Pelcher,” came the voice of City Marshal Collins, “but suppose Slicker don’t get the Spider the first shot?”

“You gettin’ cold feet? Listen: Somebody starts an argument at the faro table. Slicker’s got that ribbed up. Slicker throws down his eye-shade and steps over to ask the Spider to settle the argument. The Spider always is settin’ in his big chair near the electric switch. When Slicker gets close enough to the Spider to make a sure thing of it, he lets him have it.”

There was a pause and the sound of someone striking a match. Then the city marshal’s voice. “Don’t you be too sure the Kid and his partner will run when the shootin’ starts. Calls hisself just ‘the Kid’ here, but he’s better known as ‘the Arizona Kid’ elsewhere. An’ he’s got a record over in Arizona. He’s poison with a gun. He’s been in two gunfights since he hit New Mexico. He’s wanted in Vegas right now.”

“The Arizona Kid! Why, he ain’t much more’n a boy!” Again came a silence. Then: “I’ll fix that. Just before Slicker gets busy I’ll tell the Kid I’m night man over to the livery barn, and that it’s all right with me if he wants to pull his freight. By the way his pardner talked to the boss when I was in the livery office, those two boys’ll jump at the chance to make their getaway.”

Young Pete heard City Marshal Collins make some remark, just as the piano started up again. Then he hastened back to the Spider’s place.

* * * * *

The long, wide room had begun to fill up. A poker game was going. Several more cowpunchers had come in. Pete got another handful of nickels and began to play the slot machine. He told Dave Hamill to mill around and find out, without asking, if the man dealing faro was called “Slicker”.

Pete played the slot machine again. Dave came from the bar. “It’s the faro dealer, all right,” he said. “How’s your game goin’?”

“Watch close,” said Pete pulling the lever down. The cards whirred. “They framed it to rob the Spider’s safe,” said Pete. “The city marshal is in it, and that short fella with the big hat. The marshal figures to let us make a break and getaway. We’re strangers in town. He’ll say we shot the Spider and got away with the cash. But the cash really stays right in town. What you bitin’ your lip about?”

“You asked me to find out who that Slicker fella was so you could give him a tip?”

“Not any. He’s got the job of bumpin’ off the Spider.”

“Him. Why, they’re pardners! The bartender told me.”

“Pardners in business, mebby. But you can’t tell how they stack up, private.”

“Where did you get wise?”

“Out in the alley. Quit talkin’. Watch me win.” Young Pete nodded toward the flickering cards. “Three aces—deuce—five spot. Tell me when you see the Spider come in.”

“You can’t beat that thing. Say, Pete, how about stickin’ up the livery stable and leavin’ town right now? I don’t like this here frame-up.”

“But I kind of like the Spider’s style.” Pete played another nickel. “And that city marshal is goin’ to stick his foot in a gopher hole and break his neck, if he don’t watch out.”

“He’s playin’ safe.”

“Nobody’s playin’ safe that tangles with the Spider.”

“I thought you was strong for leavin’ town, a while ago,” said Dave.

“I was. If our horses was fresh I don’t know but what I’d be willin’ to take a chance. But I don’t aim to let a posse shoot me up for stealin’ somethin’ I didn’t steal. And mebby you recollect the Spider offered me a job, when he was in the restaurant? Well, he didn’t mean washin’ dishes.”

“Think he knows you’re the Arizona Kid?”

“I dunno. I saw him in El Paso once. I was with Tonto Charley. But that don’t make no difference. The idea is, Dave, when you’re a stranger in a town like this you got to side with one bunch or the other, or sure as hell somebody’ll get you.”

“Oh, I ain’t so sick I can’t stick around and watch you lose all our nickels,” said Dave.

“All right. You stand up near the front of the bar, and when the Spider comes in, tell him quiet-like I wanter see him. If there’s too many folks around, just haze him over to me. Tell him I broke my arm tryin’ to pull a winnin’ hand out of this here machine.”

“It’s gettin’ close to twelve,” said Dave.

“Yes,” Pete nodded. “And I notice likewise, that the fella in the big hat is back. He’s edgin’ over this way. That’ll be Pelcher. That greasy lookin’ sport in the blue suit must be the one they call ‘Soapy.’ Here they come. You start an argument with me about my havin’ your gun. Make out you’re sore. When I give you your gun, you drift up to the front of the bar like I said.”

* * * * *

The stocky man in the big hat, and Soapy, a tinhorn gambler with a hard reputation, shoved up to the bar and called for a drink.

“I reckon I’ll drift,” said Dave, loudly to Pete. “I’ll take my gun, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Like hell you will!” laughed Pete.

“You ain’t takin’ me serious.”

Pete’s smile vanished. “You sore?”

“I sure am!”

Pete handed the gun to Dave. “All right. Go and fall down and shoot yourself. I reckon this is where we split.”

“Suits me,” said Dave, holstering the gun and moving toward the front of the room.

Glass in hand, the tinhorn, Soapy, turned to Young Pete. “How they rollin’, sport?”

“Backwards. This here machine is a liar.”

“Have a drink?”

“Nope. I never drink when I’m gamblin’. Might get reckless.”

“You’re a tough kid, ain’t you?”

“The Kid is all right,” said the stocky man in the big hat. He stepped round Soapy and leaned confidentially toward Pete. “Listen, Kid. I’m night man over to the barn. I heard the city marshal tell the boss to hold your horses. Seems Collins has got somethin’ on you boys. It’s nothin’ to me. I been there myself. All I got to say is, the boss is asleep. There’s nobody at the barn right now.”

“I’m right obliged to you.” Pete thrust another nickel into the slot machine. He counted the nickels in his hand. “I’ll shoot these, then I’m done.”

The smoke swirled near the doorway. The Spider came in. “Lost your pardner?” he said as Dave came up alone.

“No. He’s playin’ the nickel machine. He says the machine is crooked and he’d like the pleasure of tellin’ you so.”

The group at the end of the bar laughed. The Spider’s beady black eyes swept the room.

“Guess I’ll be driftin’,” said Dave stepping in front of the Spider. He leaned nearer, whispered tensely, “See him quick, Spider!” And Dave moved on.

The Spider made his way to where Young Pete stood playing the nickel machine. Pete looked disgusted.

“Say, Spider, I been feedin’ this thing for two hours and I only won twice. It needs fixin’.”

Soapy and the stocky man were so near that Pete dared not risk more than a hint. His chance came when the Spider took a nickel and played the machine. Pete leaned forward as the cards settled down.

“The machine is all right,” said the Spider.

“That’s right!” Pete counted the hand. “King, queen—watch Slicker an’ the skylight; they’re gonter rob your safe at twelve—jack, ten, nine! Well, what do you think of that!”

“I can handle it,” laughed the Spider. He laid a handful of nickels on the bar and invited Soapy, the man in the big hat, and Pete to have a drink. It was nine minutes of twelve.

Young Pete took a cigar and asked the Spider for a match. “I’ll take that job you offered me, now,” said Pete in a low tone. “But I ain’t heeled.”

A couple of cowboys crowded up and shook hands with the Spider. They turned to the bar. The Spider swiftly unbuttoned his frock coat and reached for his pocketbook. Pete saw the ivory handle of a six-shooter. The Spider opened the pocketbook. Pete swept the six-shooter into his own holster unobserved. The Spider gave Pete a ten-dollar bill.

“Will that hold you?”

“Thanks,” said Pete. He invited Soapy and the stocky man to drink with them.

The Spider declined. “Meet Soapy—and this is his friend, Pelcher.” The Spider gestured. “This is the Arizona Kid. He wants you boys to drink with him.”

The Arizona Kid! Soapy was too startled to offer to shake hands. The city marshal had told Pelcher that the Kid was a bad one to tangle with, but Soapy had no idea that the slim, dark Young Pete was the notorious Arizona outlaw. Pete was surprised that the Spider knew him, but he covered his surprise with a grin. His real name didn’t seem to set very well with the tinhorn, Soapy.