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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Going Some, by Ellingwood Beach
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Going Some
+
+Author: Ellingwood Beach
+
+Posting: July 20, 2011 [EBook #6488]
+Release Date: September, 2004
+[This file was first posted on December 22, 2002]
+Last Updated: July 26, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOING SOME ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Charles Aldarondo and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+GOING SOME
+
+A ROMANCE OF STRENUOUS AFFECTION
+
+BY
+
+REX BEACH
+
+SUGGESTED BY THE PLAY BY REX BEACH AND PAUL ARMSTRONG
+
+ILLUSTRATED BY MARK FENDERSON
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+Four cowboys inclined their bodies over the barbed-wire fence
+which marked the dividing-line between the Centipede Ranch and
+their own, staring mournfully into a summer night such as only
+the far southwestern country knows. Big yellow stars hung thick
+and low--so low that it seemed they might almost be plucked by an
+upstretched hand--and a silent air blew across thousands of open
+miles of land lying crisp and fragrant under the velvet dark.
+
+And as the four inclined their bodies, they inclined also their
+ears, after the strained manner of listeners who feel anguish at
+what they hear. A voice, shrill and human, pierced the night like
+a needle, then, with a wail of a tortured soul, died away amid
+discordant raspings: the voice of a phonograph. It was their own,
+or had been until one overconfident day, when the Flying Heart
+Ranch had risked it as a wager in a foot-race with the
+neighboring Centipede, and their own man had been too slow. As it
+had been their pride, it remained their disgrace. Dearly had they
+loved, and dearly lost it. It meant something that looked like
+honor, and though there were ten thousand thousand phonographs,
+in all the world there was not one that could take its place.
+
+The sound ceased, there was an approving distant murmur of men's
+voices, and then the song began:
+
+  "Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
+  Lift up your voice and sing--"
+
+Higher and higher the voice mounted until it reached again its
+first thin, ear-splitting pitch.
+
+"Still Bill" Stover stirred uneasily in the darkness. "Why 'n
+'ell don't they keep her wound up?" he complained. "Gallagher's
+got the soul of a wart-hog. It's criminal the way he massacres
+that hymn."
+
+From a rod farther down the wire fence Willie answered him, in a
+boy's falsetto:
+
+"I wonder if he does it to spite me?"
+
+"He don't know you're here," said Stover.
+
+The other came out of the gloom, a little stoop-shouldered man
+with spectacles.
+
+"I ain't noways sure," he piped, peering up at his lanky foreman.
+"Why do you reckon he allus lets Mrs. Melby peter out on my
+favorite record? He done the same thing last night. It looks like
+an insult."
+
+"It's nothing but ignorance," Stover replied. "He don't want no
+trouble with you. None of 'em do."
+
+"I'd like to know for certain." The small man seemed torn by
+doubt. "If I only knew he done it a-purpose, I'd git him. I bet I
+could do it from here."
+
+Stover's voice was gruff as he commanded: "Forget it! Ain't it
+bad enough for us fellers to hang around like this every night
+without advertising our idiocy by a gun-play?"
+
+"They ain't got no right to that phonograph," Willie averred,
+darkly.
+
+"Oh yes, they have; they won it fair and square."
+
+"Fair and square! Do you mean to say Humpy Joe run that foot-race
+on the square?"
+
+"I never said nothin' like that whatever. I mean we bet it, and
+we lost it. Listen! There goes Carara's piece!"
+
+Out past the corral floated the announcement in a man's metallic
+syllables:
+
+"_The Baggage Coach Ahead,_ as sung by Helena Mora for the
+Echo Phonograph, of New York and Pa-a-aris!"
+
+From the dusk to the right of the two listeners now issued soft
+Spanish phrases.
+
+"_Madre de Dios!_ 'The Baggage Car in Front!' T'adora Mora!
+God bless 'er!"
+
+During the rendition of this affecting ballad the two cow-men
+remained draped uncomfortably over the barbed-wire barrier, lost
+in rapturous enjoyment. When the last note had died away, Stover
+roused himself reluctantly.
+
+"It's time we was turnin' in." He called softly, "Hey, Mex!"
+
+"_Si, Senor!_"
+
+"Come on, you and Cloudy. _Vamos!_ It's ten o'clock."
+
+He turned his back on the Centipede Ranch that housed the
+treasure, and in company with Willie, made his way to the ponies.
+Two other figures joined them, one humming in a musical baritone
+the strains of the song just ended.
+
+"Cut that out, Mex! They'll hear us," Stover cautioned.
+
+"_Caramba!_ This t'ing is brek my 'eart," said the Mexican,
+sadly. "It seem like the Senorita Mora is sing that song to me.
+Mebbe she knows I'm set out 'ere on cactus an' listen to her. Ah,
+I love that Senorita ver' much."
+
+The little man with the glasses began to swear in his high
+falsetto. His ear had caught the phonograph operator in another
+musical mistake.
+
+"That horn-toad let Mrs. Melby die again to-night," said he.
+"It's sure comin' to a runnacaboo between him and me. If somebody
+don't kill him pretty soon, he'll wear out that machine before we
+git it back."
+
+"Humph! It don't look like we'd ever get it back," said Stover.
+
+One of the four sighed audibly, then vaulting into his saddle,
+went loping away without waiting for his companions.
+
+"Cloudy's sore because they didn't play _Navajo,"_ said
+Willie. "Well, I don't blame 'em none for omittin' that war-
+dance. It ain't got the class of them other pieces. While it's
+devised to suit the intellect of an Injun, perhaps; it ain't in
+the runnin' with _The Holy City,_ which tune is the sweetest
+and sacredest ever sung."
+
+Carara paused with a hand upon the neck of his cayuse.
+
+"Eet is not so fine as _The Baggage Car in Front,"_ he
+declared.
+
+"It's got it beat a mile!" Willie flashed back, harshly.
+
+"Here you!" exclaimed Stover, "no arguments. We all have our
+favorites, and it ain't up to no individual to force his likes
+and dislikes down no other feller's throat." The two men he
+addressed mounted their broncos stiffly.
+
+"I repeat," said Willie: "_The Holy City_, as sung by Mrs.
+Melby, is the swellest tune that ever hit these parts."
+
+Carara muttered something in Spanish which the others could not
+understand.
+
+"They're all fine pieces," Stover observed, placatingly, when
+fairly out of hearing of the ranch-houses. "You boys have each
+got your preference. Cloudy, bein' an Injun, has got his, and I
+rise to state that I like that monologue, _Silas on Fifth
+Avenoo_, better than all of 'em, which ain't nothin' ag'inst
+my judgment nor yours. When Silas says, 'The girl opened her
+valise, took our her purse, closed her valise, opened her purse,
+took out a dime, closed her purse, opened her valise, put in her
+purse, closed her valise, give the dime to the conductor, got a
+nickel in change, then opened her valise, took out her purse,
+closed her valise-'" Stover began to rock in his saddle, then
+burst into a loud guffaw, followed by his companions. "Gosh!
+That's awful funny!"
+
+"_Si! si!_" acknowledged Carara, his white teeth showing
+through the gloom.
+
+"An' it's just like a fool woman," tittered Willie. "That's sure
+one ridic'lous line of talk."
+
+"Still Bill" wiped his eyes with the back of a bony hand. "I know
+that hull monologue by heart, but I can't never get past that
+spot to save my soul. Right there I bog down, complete." Again he
+burst into wild laughter, followed by his companions. "I don't
+see how folks can be so dam' funny!" he gasped.
+
+"It's natural to 'em, like warts," said Willie; "they're born
+with it, the same as I was born to shoot straight with either
+hand, and the same as the Mex was born to throw a rope. He don't
+know how he does it, and neither do I. Some folks can say funny
+things, some can sing, like Missus Melby; some can run
+foot-races, like that Centipede cook--" Carara breathed an eloquent
+Mexican oath.
+
+"Do you reckon he fixed that race with Humpy Joe?" inquired
+Stover.
+
+"Name's Skinner," Willie observed. "It sure sounds bad."
+
+"I'm sorry Humpy left us so sudden," said Still Bill. "We'd ought
+to have questioned him. If we only had proof that the race was
+crooked--"
+
+"You can so gamble it was crooked," the little man averred. "Them
+Centipede fellers never done nothin' on the square. They got
+Humpy Joe, and fixed it for him to lose so they could get that
+talkin'-machine. That's why he pulled out."
+
+"I'd hate to think it," said the foreman, gloomily; then after a
+moment, during which the only sound was that of the muffled
+hoof-beats: "Well, what we goin' to do about it?"
+
+"Humph! I've laid awake nights figurin' that out. I reckon we'll
+just have to git another foot-racer and beat Skinner. He ain't
+the fastest in the world."
+
+"That takes coin. We're broke."
+
+"Mebbe Mr. Chapin would lend a helpin' hand."
+
+"No chance!" said Stover, grimly. "He's sore on foot-racin'. Says
+it disturbs us and upsets our equalubrium."
+
+Carara fetched a deep sigh.
+
+"It's ver' bad t'ing, Senor. I don' feel no worse w'en my
+gran'mother die."
+
+The three men loped onward through the darkness, weighted heavily
+with disappointment.
+
+Affairs at the Flying Heart Ranch were not all to Jack Chapin's
+liking. Ever since that memorable foot-race, more than a month
+before, a gloom had brooded over the place which even the
+presence of two Smith College girls, not to mention that of Mr.
+Fresno, was unable to dissipate. The cowboys moped about like
+melancholy shades, and neglected their work to discuss the
+disgrace that had fallen upon them. It was a task to get any of
+them out in the morning, several had quit, the rest were
+quarrelling among themselves, and the bunk-house had already been
+the scene of more than one encounter, altogether too sanguinary
+to have originated from such a trivial cause as a foot-race. It
+was not exactly an auspicious atmosphere in which to entertain a
+houseful of college boys and girls, all unversed in the ways of
+the West.
+
+The master of the ranch sought his sister Jean, to tell her
+frankly what was on his mind.
+
+"See here, Sis," he began, "I don't want to cast a cloud over
+your little house-party, but I think you'd better keep your
+friends away from my men."
+
+"Why, what is the matter?" she demanded.
+
+"Things are at a pretty high tension just now, and the boys have
+had two or three rows among themselves. Yesterday Fresno tried to
+'kid' Willie about _The Holy City;_ said it was written as a
+coon song, and wasn't sung in good society. If he hadn't been a
+guest, I guess Willie would have murdered him."
+
+"Oh, Jack! You won't let Willie murder anybody, not even
+Berkeley, while the people are here, will you?" coaxed Miss
+Chapin, anxiously.
+
+"What made you invite Berkeley Fresno, anyhow?" was the
+rejoinder. "This is no gilded novelty to him. He is a Western
+man."
+
+Miss Chapin numbered her reasons sagely. "In the first place--
+Helen. Then there had to be enough men to go around. Last and
+best, he is the most adorable man I ever saw at a house-party.
+He's an angel at breakfast, sings perfectly beautifully--you know
+he was on the Stanford Glee Club--"
+
+"Humph!" Jack was unimpressed. "If you roped him for Helen Blake
+to brand, why have you sent for Wally Speed?"
+
+"Well, you see, Berkeley and Helen didn't quite hit it off, and
+Mr. Speed is--a friend of Culver's." Miss Chapin blushed
+prettily.
+
+"Oh, I see! I thought myself that this affair had something to do
+with you and Culver Covington, but I didn't know it had lapsed
+into a sort of matrimonial round-up. Suppose Miss Blake shouldn't
+care for Speed after he gets here?"
+
+"Oh, but she will! That's where Berkeley Fresno comes in. When
+two men begin to fight for her, she'll have to begin to form a
+preference, and I'm sure it will be for Wally Speed. Don't you
+see?"
+
+The brother looked at his sister shrewdly. "It seems to me you
+learned a lot at Smith."
+
+Jean tossed her head. "How absurd! That sort of knowledge is
+perfectly natural for a girl to have." Then she teased: "But you
+admit that my selection of a chaperon was excellent, don't you,
+Jack?"
+
+"Mrs. Keap and I are the best of friends," Jack averred, with
+supreme dignity. "I'm not in the market, and a man doesn't marry
+a widow, anyhow. It's too old and experienced a beginning."
+
+"Nonsense! Roberta Keap is only twenty-three. Why, she hardly
+knew her husband, even! It was one of those sudden, impulsive
+affairs that would overwhelm any girl who hadn't seen a man for
+four years. And then he enlisted in the Spanish War, and was
+killed."
+
+"Considerate chap!"
+
+"Roberta, you know, is my best friend, after Helen. Do be nice to
+her, Jack." Miss Chapin sighed. "It is too bad the others
+couldn't come."
+
+"Yes, a small house-party has its disadvantages. By-the-way,
+what's that gold thing on your frock?"
+
+"It's a medal. Culver sent it to me."
+
+"Another?"
+
+"Yes, he won the intercollegiate championship again." Miss Chapin
+proudly extended the emblem on its ribbon.
+
+"I wish to goodness Covington had been here to take Humpy Joe's
+place," said the young cattle-man as he turned it over. "The boys
+are just brokenhearted over losing that phonograph."
+
+"I'll get him to run and win it back," Jean offered, easily. Her
+brother laughed. "Take my advice, Sis, and don't let Culver mix
+up in this game! The stakes are too high. I think that Centipede
+cook is a professional runner, myself, and if our boys were
+beaten again--well, you and mother and I would have to move out
+of New Mexico, that's all. No, we'd better let the memory of that
+defeat die out as quickly as possible. You warn Fresno not to
+joke about it any more, and I'll take Mrs. Keap off your hands.
+She may be a widow, she may even be the chaperon, but I'll do it;
+I will do it," promised Jack--"for my sister's sake."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+Helen Blake was undeniably bored. The sultry afternoon was very
+long--longer even than Berkeley Fresno's autobiography, and quite
+as dry. It was too hot and dusty to ride, so she took refuge in
+the latest "best seller," and sought out a hammock on the vine-
+shaded gallery, where Jean Chapin was writing letters, while the
+disconsolate Fresno, banished, wandered at large, vaguely injured
+at her lack of appreciation.
+
+Absent-mindedly, the girls dipped into the box of bonbons between
+them. Jean finished her correspondence and essayed conversation,
+but her companion's blond head was bowed over the book in her
+lap, and the effort met with no response. Lulled by the
+somniferous droning of insects and lazy echoes from afar, Miss
+Chapin was on the verge of slumber, when she saw her guest
+rapidly turn the last pages of her novel, then, with a chocolate
+between her teeth, read wide-eyed to the finish. Miss Blake
+closed the book reluctantly, uncurled slowly, then stared out
+through the dancing heat-waves, her blue eyes shadowed with
+romance.
+
+"Did she marry him?" queried Jean.
+
+"No, no!" Helen Blake sighed, blissfully. "It was infinitely
+finer. She killed herself."
+
+"I like to see them get married."
+
+"Naturally. You are at that stage. But I think suicide is more
+glorious, in many cases."
+
+Miss Chapin yawned openly. "Speaking of suicides, isn't this
+ranch the deadest place?"
+
+"Oh, I don't think so at all." Miss Blake picked her way
+fastidiously through the bonbons, nibbling tentatively at several
+before making her choice. "Oh yes, you do, and you needn't be
+polite just because you're a guest." "Well, then, to be as
+truthful as a boarder, it _is_ a little dull. Not for our
+chaperon, though. The time doesn't seem to drag on her hands.
+Jack certainly is making it pleasant for her."
+
+"If you call taking her out to watch a lot of bellowing calves
+get branded, entertainment," Miss Chapin sighed.
+
+"I wonder what makes widows so fascinating?" observed the
+youthful Miss Blake.
+
+"I hope I never find out." Jean clutched nervously at the gold
+medal on her dress. "Wouldn't that be dreadful!"
+
+"My dear, Culver seems perfectly healthy. Why worry?"
+
+"I--I wish he were here."
+
+Miss Blake leaned forward and read the inscription on her
+companion's medal. "Oh, isn't it heavy!" feeling it reverently.
+
+"Pure gold, like himself! You should have seen him when he won
+it. Why, at the finish of that race all the men but Culver were
+making the most horrible faces. They were simply _dead_."
+
+Miss Blake's hands were clasped in her lap. "They all make
+faces," said she. "Have you told Roberta about your engagement?"
+
+"No, she doesn't dream of it, and I don't want her to know. I'm
+so afraid she'll think, now that mother has gone, that I asked
+her here just as a chaperon. Perhaps I'll tell her when Culver
+comes."
+
+"I adore athletes. I wouldn't give a cent for a man who wasn't
+athletic."
+
+"Does Mr. Speed go in for that sort of thing?"
+
+"Rather! The day we met at the Yale games he had medals all over
+him, and that night at the dance he used the most wonderful
+athletic language--we could scarcely understand him. Mr.
+Covington must have told you all about him; they are chums, you
+know."
+
+Miss Chapin furrowed her brows meditatively.
+
+"I have heard Culver speak of him, but never as an athlete. Have
+you and Mr. Speed settled things between you, Helen? I mean, has
+he--said anything?"
+
+Miss Blake flushed.
+
+"Not exactly." She adjusted a cushion to cover her confusion,
+then leaned back complacently. "But he has stuttered dangerously
+several times."
+
+A musical tinkle of silver spurs sounded in the distance, and
+around the corner of the cook-house opposite came Carara, the
+Mexican, his wide, spangled sombrero tipped rakishly over one
+ear, a corn-husk cigarette drooping from his lips. Evidently his
+presence was inspired by some special motive, for he glanced
+sharply about, and failing to detect the two girls behind the
+distant screen of vines, removed his cigarette and whistled
+thrice, like a quail, then, leaning against the adobe wall,
+curled his black silken mustaches to needle-points.
+
+"It's that romantic Spaniard!" whispered Helen. "What does he
+want?"
+
+"It's his afternoon call on Mariedetta, the maid," said Jean.
+"They meet there twice a day, morning and afternoon."
+
+"A lovers' tryst!" breathed Miss Blake, eagerly. "Isn't he
+graceful and picturesque! Can we watch them?"
+
+"'Sh-h! There she comes!"
+
+From the opposite direction appeared a slim, swarthy Mexican
+girl, an Indian water-jug balanced upon her shoulders. She was
+clad in the straight-hanging native garment, belted in with a
+sash; her feet were in sandals, and she moved as silently as a
+shadow.
+
+During the four days since Miss Blake's arrival at the Flying
+Heart Ranch she had seen Mariedetta flitting noiselessly here and
+there, but had never heard her speak. The pretty, expressionless
+face beneath its straight black hair had ever retained its wooden
+stolidity, the velvety eyes had not laughed nor frowned nor
+sparkled. She seemed to be merely a part of this far southwestern
+picture; a bit of inanimate yet breathing local color. Now,
+however, the girl dropped her jug, and with a low cry glided to
+her lover, who tossed aside his cigarette and took her in his
+arms. From this distance their words were indistinguishable.
+
+"How perfectly romantic," said the Eastern girl, breathlessly. "I
+had no idea Mariedetta could love anybody."
+
+"She is a volcano," Jean answered.
+
+"Why, it's like a play!"
+
+"And it goes on all the time."
+
+"How gentle and sweet he is! I think he is charming. He is not at
+all like the other cowboys, is he?"
+
+While the two witnesses of the scene were eagerly discussing it,
+Joy, the Chinese cook, emerged from the kitchen bearing a bucket
+of water, his presence hidden from the lovers by the corner of
+the building. Carara languidly released his inamorata from his
+embrace and lounged out of sight around the building, pausing at
+the farther corner to waft her a graceful kiss from the ends of
+his fingers, as with a farewell flash of his white teeth he
+disappeared. Mariedetta recovered her water-jug and glided onward
+into the court in front of the cook-house, her face masklike, her
+movements deliberate as usual. Joy, spying the girl, grinned at
+her. She tossed her head coquettishly and her step slackened,
+whereupon the cook, with a sly glance around, tapped her gently
+on the arm, and said:
+
+"Nice l'il gally."
+
+"The idea!" indignantly exclaimed Miss Blake from her hammock.
+
+But Mariedetta was not offended. Instead she smiled over her
+shoulder as she had smiled at her lover an instant before.
+
+"Me like you fine. You like pie?" Joy nodded toward the door to
+the culinary department, as if to make free of his hospitality,
+at the instant that Carara, who had circled the building, came
+into view from the opposite side, a fresh cigarette between his
+lips. His languor vanished at the first glimpse of the scene, and
+he strode toward the white-clad Celestial, who dove through the
+open door like a prairie dog into its hole. Carara followed at
+his heels.
+
+"It serves him right!" cried Miss Blake, rising. "I hope Mr.
+Carara--"
+
+A din of falling pots and pans issued from the cook-house,
+mingled with shrill cries and soft Spanish imprecations; then,
+with one long-drawn wail, the pandemonium ceased as suddenly as
+it had commenced, and Carara issued forth, black with anger.
+
+"Ha!" said he, scowling at Mariedetta, who had retreated, her
+hand upon her bosom. He exhaled a lungful of cigarette smoke
+through his nostrils fiercely. "You play wit' me, eh?"
+
+"No! no!" Mariedetta ran to him, and, seizing his arm, cooed
+amorously in Spanish.
+
+"Bah! _Vamos!"_ Carara flung her from him, and stalked away.
+
+"Well, of all the outrageous things!" said Miss Blake. "Why, she
+was actually flirting with that Chinaman."
+
+"Mariedetta flirts with every man she can find," said Jean,
+calmly, "but she doesn't mean any harm. She'll marry Carara some
+time--if he doesn't kill her."
+
+"Kill her!" Miss Blake's eyes were round. "He wouldn't do
+_that!"_
+
+"Indeed, yes. He is a Mexican, and he has a terrible temper."
+
+Miss Blake sank back into the hammock. "How perfectly dreadful!
+And yet--it must be heavenly to love a man who would kill you."
+
+Miss Chapin lost herself in meditation for an instant. "Culver is
+almost like that when he is angry. Hello, here comes our
+foreman!"
+
+Stover, a tall, gangling cattle-man with drooping grizzled
+mustache, came shambling up to the steps. His weather-beaten
+chaps were much too short for his lengthy limbs, the collar of
+his faded flannel shirt lacked an inch of meeting at the throat,
+its sleeves were shrunken until his hairy hands hung down like
+tassels. He was loose and spineless, his movements tempered with
+the slothfulness of the far Southwest. His appearance gave one
+the impression that ready-made garments are never long enough. He
+dusted his boots with his sombrero and cleared his throat.
+
+"'Evening, Miss Jean. Is Mr. Chapin around?"
+
+"I think you'll find him down by the spring-house. Can I do
+anything for you?"
+
+"Nope!" Stover sighed heavily, and got his frame gradually into
+motion again.
+
+"You're not looking well, Stover. Are you ill?" inquired Miss
+Chapin.
+
+"Not physical," said the foreman, checking the movement which had
+not yet communicated itself the entire length of his frame. "I
+reckon my sperret's broke, that's all."
+
+"Haven't you recovered from that foot-race?"
+
+"I have not, and I never will, so long as that ornery Centipede
+outfit has got it on us."
+
+"Nonsense, Stover!"
+
+"What have they done?" inquired Miss Blake, curiously. "I haven't
+heard about any foot-race."
+
+"You tell her," said the man, with another sigh, and a hopeless
+gesture that told the depth of his feelings.
+
+"Why, Stover hired a fellow a couple of months ago as a
+horse-wrangler. The man said he was hungry, and made a good impression,
+so we put him on."
+
+Here Stover slowly raised one booted foot and kicked his other
+calf. "The boys nicknamed him Humpy Joe--"
+
+"Why, poor thing! Was he humpbacked?" inquired Helen.
+
+"No," answered Still Bill. "Humpback is lucky. We called him
+Humpy Joe because when it came to running he could sure get up
+and hump himself."
+
+"Soon after Joseph went to work," Jean continued, "the Centipede
+outfit hired a new cook. You know the Centipede Ranch--the one
+you see over yonder by the foot-hills."
+
+"It wasn't 'soon after,' it was simuletaneous," said Stover,
+darkly. "We're beginnin' to see plain at last." He went on as if
+to air the injury that was gnawing him. "One day we hear that
+this grub-slinger over yonder thinks he can run, which same is as
+welcome to us as the smell of flowers on a spring breeze, for
+Humpy Joe had amused us in his idle hours by running jack-rabbits
+to earth--"
+
+"Not really?" said Miss Blake.
+
+"Well, no, but from what we see we judge he'd ought to limp a
+hundred yards in about nothing and three-fifths seconds, so we
+frame a race between him and the Centipede cook."
+
+"As a matter of fact, there has been a feud for years between the
+two outfits," Jean offered.
+
+"With tumulchous joy we bet our wages and all the loose gear we
+have, and in a burst of childish enthusiasm we put up--the
+talking-machine."
+
+"A phonograph?"
+
+"Yes. An Echo Phonograph," said Miss Chapin.
+
+"Of New York and Paris," added Stover.
+
+"Our boys won it from this very Centipede outfit at a
+bronco-busting tournament in Cheyenne."
+
+"Wyoming." Stover made the location definite.
+
+"The Centipede crowd took their defeat badly on Frontier Day, and
+swore to get even."
+
+"And was Humpy Joe defeated?" asked Helen.
+
+"Was he?" Still Bill shook his head sadly, and sighed for a third
+time. "It looked like he was running backward, miss."
+
+"But really he was only beaten a foot. It was a wonderful race. I
+saw it," said Jean. "It made me think of the races at college."
+
+Miss Blake puckered her brows trying to think.
+
+"Joseph," she said. "No, I don't think I have seen him."
+
+Stover's lips met grimly. "I don't reckon you have, miss. Since
+that race he has been hard to descry. He passed from view
+hurriedly, so to speak, headed toward the foot-hills, and leaping
+from crag to crag like the hardy shamrock of the Swiss Yelps."
+
+Miss Blake giggled. "What made him hurry so?"
+
+"Us!" Stover gazed at her solemnly. "We ain't none of us been the
+same since that foot-race. You see, it ain't the financial value
+of that Echo Phonograph, nor the 'double-cross' that hurts: it's
+the fact that the mangiest outfit in the Territory has trimmed us
+out of the one thing that stands for honor and excellence and
+'scientific attainment,' as the judge said when we won it. That
+talking-machine meant more to us than you Eastern folks can
+understand, I reckon."
+
+"If I were you I would cheer up," said Miss Blake, kindly, and
+with some importance. "Miss Chapin has a college friend coming
+this week, and he can win back your trophy."
+
+Stover glanced up at Jean quickly.
+
+"Is that right, Miss Chapin?"
+
+"He can if he will," Jean asserted.
+
+"Can he run?"
+
+"He is the intercollegiate champion," declared that young lady,
+with proud dignity.
+
+"And do you reckon he'd run for us and the Echo Phonograph of New
+York and Paris, if we framed a race? It's an honor!"
+
+But Miss Chapin suddenly recalled her brother's caution of the
+day before, and hesitated.
+
+"I--I don't think he would. You see, he is an amateur--he might
+be out of training--"
+
+"The idea!" exclaimed Miss Blake, indignantly. "If Culver won't
+run, I know who will!" She closed her lips firmly, and turned to
+the foreman. "You tell your friends that we'll see you get your
+trophy back."
+
+"Helen, I--"
+
+"I mean it!" declared Miss Blake, with spirit.
+
+Stover bowed loosely. "Thank you, miss. The very thought of it
+will cheer up the gang. Life 'round here is blacker 'n a spade
+flush. I think I'll tell Willie." He shambled rapidly off around
+the house.
+
+"Helen dear, I don't want Culver to get mixed up in this affair,"
+explained Miss Chapin, as soon as they were alone. "It's all
+utterly foolish. Jack doesn't want him to, either."
+
+"Very well. If Culver doesn't feel that he can beat that cook
+running, I know who will try. Mr. Speed will do anything I ask.
+It's a shame the way those men have been treated."
+
+"But Mr. Speed isn't a sprinter."
+
+"Indeed!" Miss Blake bridled. "Perhaps Culver Covington isn't the
+only athlete in Yale College. I happen to know what I'm talking
+about. Naturally the two boys have never competed against each
+other, because they are friends--Mr. Speed isn't the sort to race
+his room-mate. Oh! he wouldn't tell me he could run if it were
+not true."
+
+"I don't think he will consent when he learns the truth."
+
+"I assure you," said Miss Blake, sweetly, "he will be delighted."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+It was still early in the afternoon when Jack Chapin and the
+youthful chaperon found the other young people together on the
+gallery.
+
+"Here's a telegram from Speed," began Jack.
+
+"It's terribly funny," said Mrs. Keap. "That Mexican brought it
+to us down at the spring-house."
+
+Miss Blake lost her bored expression, and sat up in the hammock.
+
+"'Mr. Jack Chapin,'" read the owner of the Flying Heart Ranch.
+"'Dear Jack: I couldn't wait for Covington, so meet with
+brass-band and fireworks this afternoon. Have flowers in bloom in the
+little park beside the depot, and see that the daisies nod to
+me.--J. Wallingford Speed.'"
+
+"Park, eh?" said Fresno, dryly. "Telegraph office, water-tank,
+and a cattle-chute. Where does this fellow think he is?"
+
+"Here is a postscript," added Chapin.
+
+"'I have a valet who does not seem to enjoy the trip. Divide a
+kiss among the girls.'"
+
+"Well, well! He's stingy with his kisses," observed Berkeley.
+"Who is this humorous party?"
+
+"He was a Freshman at Yale the year I graduated," explained Jack.
+
+"Too bad he never got out of that class." It was evident that Mr.
+Speed's levity made no impression upon the Glee Club tenor. "He
+hates to talk about himself, doesn't he?"
+
+"I think he is very clever," said Miss Blake, warmly.
+
+"How well do you know him?"
+
+"Not as well as I'd like to."
+
+Fresno puffed at his little pipe without remarking at this.
+
+"Well, who wants to go and meet him?" queried Jack.
+
+"Won't you?" asked his sister.
+
+"I can't. I've just got word from the Eleven X that I'm wanted.
+The foreman is hurt. I may not be back for some time."
+
+"Nigger Mike met me," observed Fresno, darkly.
+
+"Then Nigger Mike for Speed," laughed the cattle-man. "I've told
+Carara to hitch up the pintos for me. I must be going."
+
+"I'll see that you are safely started," said the young widow; and
+leaving the trio on the gallery, they entered the house.
+
+When they had gone, Jean smiled wisely at Helen. "Roberta's such
+a thoughtful chaperon," she observed, whereupon Miss Blake
+giggled.
+
+As for Mrs. Keap, she was inquiring of Jack with genuine
+solicitude:
+
+"Do you really mean that you may be gone for some time?"
+
+"I do. It may be a week; it may be longer; I can't tell until I
+get over there."
+
+"I'm sorry." Mrs. Keap's face showed some disappointment.
+
+"So am I."
+
+"I shall have to look out for these young people all by myself."
+
+"What a queer little way you have of talking, as if you were
+years and years old."
+
+"I do feel as if I were. I--I--well, I have had an unhappy
+experience. You know unhappiness builds months into years."
+
+"When Jean got up this house-party," young Chapin began,
+absently, "I thought I should be bored to death. But--I haven't
+been. You know, I don't want to go over there?" He nodded vaguely
+toward the south.
+
+"I thought perhaps it suited your convenience." His companion
+watched him gravely. "Are you quite sure that your sister's
+guests have not--had something to do with this sudden
+determination?"
+
+"I am quite sure. I never liked the old Flying Heart so much as I
+do to-day. I never regretted leaving it so much as I do at this
+moment."
+
+"We may be gone before you return."
+
+Young Chapin started. "You don't mean that, really?" Mrs. Keap
+nodded her dark head. "It was all very well for me to chaperon
+Helen on the way out from the East, but--it isn't exactly regular
+for me to play that part here with other young people to look
+after."
+
+"But you understand, of course--Jean must have explained to you.
+Mother was called away suddenly, and she can't get back now. You
+surely won't leave--you _can't_." Chapin added, hopefully:
+"Why, you would break up Jean's party. You see, there's nobody
+around here to take your place."
+
+"But--"
+
+"Nonsense! This is an unconventional country. What's wrong with
+you as a chaperon, anyway? Nobody out here even knows what a
+chaperon is. And I'll be back as soon as I can."
+
+"Do you really think that would help?" Roberta's eyes laughed
+humorously.
+
+"I'm not thinking of the others, I'm thinking of myself,"
+declared the young man, boldly. "I don't want you to go before I
+return. You must not! If you go, I--I shall follow you." He
+grasped her hand impulsively.
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed the chaperon. "This makes it even more impossible.
+Go! _Go!_" She pushed him away, her color surging. "Go to your
+old Eleven X Ranch right away."
+
+"But I mean it," he declared, earnestly. Then, as she retreated
+farther: "It's no use, I sha'n't go now until--"
+
+"You have known me less than a week!"
+
+"That is long enough. Roberta--"
+
+Mrs. Keap spoke with honest embarrassment. "Listen! Don't you see
+what a situation this is? If Jean and Helen should ever discover--"
+
+"Jean planned it all; even this."
+
+Mrs. Keap stared at him in horrified silence.
+
+"You do love me, Roberta?" Chapin undertook to remove the girl's
+hands from her face, when a slight cough in the hall behind
+caused him to turn suddenly in time to see Berkeley Fresno
+passing the open door.
+
+"There! You see!" Mrs. Keap's face was tragic. "_You see!_"
+She turned and fled, leaving the master of the ranch in the
+middle of the floor, bewildered, but a bit inclined to be happy.
+A moment later the plump face of Berkeley Fresno appeared
+cautiously around the door-jamb. He coughed again gravely.
+
+"I happened to be passing," said he. "You'll pardon me?"
+
+"This is the most thickly settled spot in New Mexico!" Chapin
+declared, with an artificial laugh, choking his indignation.
+
+Fresno slowly brought his round body out from concealment.
+
+"I came in to get a match."
+
+"Why don't you carry matches?"
+
+Fresno puffed complacently upon his pipe. "This," he mused, as
+his host departed, "eliminates the chaperon, and that helps
+some."
+
+Still Bill Stover lost no time in breaking the news to the boys.
+
+"There's something comin' off," he advised Willie. "We've got
+another foot-runner!"
+
+If he had hoped for an outburst of rapture on the part of the
+little gun man he was disappointed, for Willie shifted his
+holster, smiled evilly through his glasses, and inquired, with
+ominous restraint:
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+Being the one man on the Flying Heart who had occasion to wear a
+gun, Willie seldom smiled from a sense of humor. Here it may be
+said that, deceived at first by his scholarly appearance, his
+fellow-laborers had jibed at Willie's affectation of a swinging
+holster, but the custom had languished abruptly. When it became
+known who he was, the other ranch-hands had volubly declared that
+this was a free country, where a man might exercise a wide
+discretion in the choice of personal adornment; and as for them,
+they avowed unanimously that the practice of packing a Colts was
+one which met with their most cordial approbation. In time
+Willie's six-shooter had become accepted as a part of the local
+scenery, and, like the scenery, no one thought of remarking upon
+it, least of all those who best knew his lack of humor. He had
+come to them out of the Nowhere, some four years previously, and
+while he never spoke of himself, and discouraged reminiscence in
+others, it became known through those vague uncharted channels by
+which news travels on the frontier, that back in the Texas
+Panhandle there was a limping marshal who felt regrets at mention
+of his name, and that farther north were other men who had a
+superstitious dread of undersized cow-men with spectacles. There
+were also stories of lonesome "run-ins," which, owing to Willie's
+secretiveness and the permanent silence of the other
+participants, never became more than intangible rumors. But he
+was a good ranchman, attended to his business, and the sheriff's
+office was remote, so Willie had worked on unmolested.
+
+"This here is a real foot-runner," said Stover.
+
+"Exactly," agreed the other. "Where is he?"
+
+"He'll be here this afternoon. Nigger Mike's bringin' him over
+from the railroad. He's a guest."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Yep! He's intercollegit champeen of Yale."
+
+"Yale?" repeated the near-sighted man. "Don't know's I ever been
+there. Much of a town?"
+
+"I ain't never travelled East myself, but Miss Jean and the
+little yaller-haired girl say he's the fastest man in the world.
+I figgered we might rib up something with the Centipede." Still
+Bill winked sagely.
+
+"See here, do you reckon he'd run?"
+
+"Sure! He's a friend of the boss. And he'll run on the level,
+too. He can't be nothin' like Humpy."
+
+"If he is, I'll git him," said the cowboy. "Oh, I'll git him
+sure, guest or no guest. But how about the phonograph?"
+
+"The Centipede will put it up quick enough; there ain't no
+sentiment in that outfit."
+
+"Then it sounds good."
+
+"An' it'll work. Gallagher's anxious to trim us again. Some folks
+can't stand prosperity."
+
+Willie spat unerringly at a grasshopper. "Lord!" said he, "it's
+too good! It don't sound possible."
+
+"Well, it is, and our man will be here this evenin'. Watch out
+for Nigger Mike, and when he drives up let's give this party a
+welcome that'll warm his heart on the jump. There's nothin' like
+a good impression."
+
+"I'll be on the job," assured Willie. "But I state right here and
+now, if we do get a race there ain't a-goin' to be no chance of
+our losin' for a second time."
+
+And Stover went on his way to spread the tidings.
+
+It was growing dark when the rattle of wheels outside the
+ranch-house brought the occupants to the porch in time to see Nigger
+Mike halt his buck-board and two figures prepare to descend.
+
+"It's Mr. Speed!" cried Miss Blake. Then she uttered a scream as
+the velvet darkness was rent by a dozen tongues of flame, while a
+shrill yelping arose, as of an Apache war-party.
+
+"It's the boys," said Jean. "What on earth has possessed them?"
+
+But Stover had planned no ordinary reception, and the pandemonium
+did not cease until the men had emptied their weapons.
+
+Then Mr. J. Wallingford Speed came stumbling up the steps and
+into the arms of his friends, the tails of his dust-coat
+streaming.
+
+"Really? This is more than I expected," he gasped; then turning,
+doffed his straw hat to the half-revealed figures beyond the
+light, and cried, gayly: "Thank you, gentlemen! Thank you for
+missing me!"
+
+"Yow--ee!" responded the cowboys.
+
+"How do you do, Miss Chapin!" Speed shook hands with his hostess,
+and in the radiance from the open doorway she saw that his face
+was round and boyish, and his smile peculiarly engaging.
+
+She welcomed him appropriately; then said: "This reception is
+quite as startling to us as to you. You know, Mr. Speed, that we
+have with us a friend of yours." She slightly drew Helen forward.
+"And this is Mrs. Keap, who is looking after us a bit while
+mother is away. Roberta, may I present Mr. Covington's friend,
+and ask you to be good to him?"
+
+"Don't forget me," said Fresno, pushing into the light.
+
+"Mr. Berkeley Fresno, of Leland Stanford University."
+
+"Hello, Frez!" Speed thrust out his hand warmly. Not so the
+Californian. He replied, with hauteur:
+
+"Fresno! F-r-e-s-n-o"; and allowed the new-comer to grasp a limp,
+moist hand.
+
+"Ah! Go to the head of the class! I'm sorry you broke your wrist,
+however." The Eastern lad spoke lightly, and gave the palm a
+hearty squeeze, then turned to Jean.
+
+"I dare say you are all disappointed, Miss Chapin, that Culver
+didn't come with me, but he'll be along in a day or so. I simply
+couldn't wait." He avoided glancing at Helen Blake, whose
+answering blush was lost in the darkness.
+
+"I did think when you drove up that might be Mr. Covington with
+you," Miss Chapin remarked, wistfully.
+
+"Oh no, that's my man." Speed glanced around him. "And,
+by-the-way, where is he?"
+
+The sound of angry voices came through the gloom, then out into
+the light came Still Bill Stover, Willie, and Carara, dragging
+between them a globular person who was rebelling loudly.
+
+"Stover, what is this?" questioned Miss Chapin, stepping to the
+edge of the veranda.
+
+"This gent stampedes in the midst of our welcome," explained the
+foreman, "so we have to rope him before he gets away." It was
+seen now that Carara's lariat was tightly drawn about the new
+arrival's waist.
+
+Then the valet broke into coherent speech, but he spoke a tongue
+not common to his profession.
+
+"Nix on that welcome stuff," he burst forth, in husky, alcoholic
+accents; "that goes on the door-mat!" It was plain that he was
+very angry. "If that racket means welcome, I don't want it. Take
+that clothes-line off of me." Carara loosened the noose, and his
+captive rolled up the steps mopping his face with his
+handkerchief.
+
+"What made you run away?" demanded Speed.
+
+"Any time a bunch of bandits unhitch their gats, I'm on my way,"
+sputtered the fat man. "I'm gun-shy, see? And when this hold-up
+comes off I beat it till that Cuban rummy with the medals on his
+dicer rides a live horse up my back."
+
+"You don't appreciate the honor," explained his employer; then
+turning to the others, he announced: "Will you allow me to
+introduce Mr. Lawrence Glass? He isn't really a valet, you know,
+Miss Chapin, and he doesn't care for the West yet. It is his
+first trip."
+
+"I have heard my brother speak of Larry Glass," said Jean,
+graciously.
+
+Mr. Glass courtesied awkwardly, and swinging his right foot back
+of his left, tapped the floor with his toe. "You were a trainer
+at Yale when Jack was there?"
+
+"That's me," Mr. Glass wheezed. "I'm there with the big rub, too.
+Wally said he was going to train during vacation, so he staked me
+to a trip out here, and I came along to look after him."
+
+"Come into the house," said Jean. "Stover will see to your
+baggage."
+
+As they entered, Mr. Berkeley Fresno saw the late arrival bend
+over Helen Blake, and heard him murmur:
+
+"The same unforgettable eyes of Italian blue."
+
+And Mr. Fresno decided to dislike Wally Speed, even if it
+required an effort.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+It was on the following morning that Miss Blake made bold to
+request her favor from J. Wallingford Speed. They had succeeded
+in isolating themselves upon the vine-shaded gallery at the rear
+of the house, and the conversation had been largely of athletics,
+but this, judging from the rapt expression of the girl, was a
+subject of surpassing interest. Speed, quick to take a cue,
+plunged on.
+
+"I would have made the Varsity basket-ball team myself if I
+hadn't been so tiny," said Helen. "I have always wanted to be
+tall, like Roberta."
+
+"I shouldn't care for that," said the young man.
+
+"You know she was a wonderful player?"
+
+"So I've heard."
+
+"Do you know," mused Helen, "I have never forgotten what you told
+me that first day we met. I think it was perfectly lovely of
+you."
+
+"What was that?" Now it must be admitted that J. Wallingford
+Speed, in his relations with the other sex, frequently found
+himself in a position requiring mental gymnastics of a high
+order; but, as a rule, his memory was good, and he seldom crossed
+his own trail, so to speak. In this instance he was utterly
+without remembrance, however, and hence was non-committal.
+
+"What you told me about your friendship for Mr. Covington. I
+think it is very unselfish of you."
+
+"Oh, I wouldn't say that," ventured the young man, vainly racking
+his brain. "Nobody could help liking Culver."
+
+"Yes; but how many men would step aside and let their best friend
+win prize after prize and never undertake to compete against
+him?" Speed blushed faintly, as any modest man might have done.
+
+"Did I tell you that?" he inquired.
+
+"Indeed you did."
+
+"Then please don't speak of it to a mortal soul. I must have said
+a great deal that first day, but--"
+
+"But I _have_ spoken of it, and I said I thought it was fine
+of you."
+
+"You have spoken of it?"
+
+"Yes; I told Jean."
+
+The Yale man undertook to change the conversation abruptly, but
+Miss Blake was a determined young lady. She continued:
+
+"Of course, it was very magnanimous of you to always step aside
+in favor of your best friend; but it isn't fair to yourself--it
+really isn't. And so I have arranged a little plan whereby you
+can do something to prove your prowess, and still not interfere
+with Mr. Covington in the least."
+
+Speed cleared his throat nervously. "Tell me," he said, "what it
+is."
+
+And Miss Blake told him the story of the shocking treachery of
+Humpy Joe, together with the miserable undoing of the Flying
+Heart. "Why, those poor fellows are broken-hearted," she
+concluded. "Their despair over losing that talking-machine would
+be funny if it were not so tragic. I told them you would win it
+back for them. And you will, won't you? Please!" She turned her
+blue eyes upon him appealingly, and the young man was lost.
+
+"I'll take ten chances," he said. "Where does the raffle come
+off?"
+
+"Oh, it isn't a raffle, it's a foot-race. You must run with that
+Centipede cook."
+
+"I! Run a race!" exclaimed the young college man, aghast.
+
+"Yes, I've promised that you would. You see, this isn't like a
+college event, and Culver isn't here yet."
+
+"But he'll be here in a day or so." Speed felt as if a very large
+man were choking him; he decided his collar was too tight.
+
+"Oh, I've talked it all over with Jean. She doesn't want Culver
+to run, anyhow."
+
+"Why not?" inquired he, suspiciously.
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure."
+
+"If Miss Chapin doesn't want Culver to run, you surely wouldn't
+want me to."
+
+"Not at all. If Mr. Covington knew the facts of the case, he
+would be only too happy to do it. And, you see, _you_ know
+the facts."
+
+Speed was about to shape a gracious but firm refusal of the
+proffered honor when Still Bill Stover appeared at the steps,
+doffed his faded Stetson, and bowed limply.
+
+"Mornin', Miss Blake." To the rear Speed saw three other men--an
+Indian, tall, swart, and saturnine, who walked with a limp; a
+picturesque Mexican with a spangled hat and silver spurs,
+evidently the captor of Lawrence Glass on the evening previous;
+and an undersized little man with thick-rimmed spectacles and a
+heavy-hanging holster from which peeped a gun-butt. All were
+smiling pleasantly, and seemed a bit abashed.
+
+"Good-morning, Mr. Stover," said Helen, pleasantly. "This is Mr.
+Speed, of whom I spoke to you yesterday." Stover bowed again and
+mumbled something about the honor of this meeting, and Miss Blake
+cast her eyes over the other members of the group, saying,
+graciously: "I'm afraid I can't introduce your friends; I haven't
+met them."
+
+The loquacious foreman came promptly to the rescue, rejoicing in
+an opportunity of displaying his oratorical gifts.
+
+"Then I'll make you acquainted with the best brandin' outfit in
+these parts." He waved a long, bony arm at the Mexican, who
+flashed his white teeth. "This Greaser is Aurelio Maria Carara.
+Need I say he's Mex, and a preemeer roper?" Carara bowed, and
+swept the ground with his high-peaked head-piece. "The Maduro
+gent yonder is Mr. Cloudy. His mother being a Navajo squaw, named
+him, accordin' to the rights and customs of her tribe, selecting
+the title of Cloudy-but-the-Sun-Shines, which same has proved a
+misnomer, him bein' a pessimist for fair."
+
+Miss Blake and her companion smiled and nodded, at which Stover,
+encouraged beyond measure, elaborated.
+
+"He's had a hist'ry, too. When he reaches man's real-estate the
+Injun agent ropes, throws, and hog-ties him, then sends him East
+to be cultivated. He spends four years kickin' a football--"
+Speed interrupted, with an exclamation of genuine interest.
+
+"Oh, it's true as gospel," the foreman averred. "When he goes
+lame in his off leg they ship him back, and in spite of them
+handicaps he has become one rustlin' savage at a round-up."
+
+"What college did you attend?" inquired Speed, politely. The
+question fell upon unresponsive ears. Cloudy did not stir nor
+alter the direction of his sombre glance.
+
+"He don' talk none," Stover explained. "Conversation, which I
+esteem as a gift deevine, is a lost art with him. I reckon he
+don't average a word a week. What language he did know he has
+forgot, and what he ain't forgot he distrusts."
+
+Turning to the near-sighted man who had been staring at the
+college youth meanwhile, the spokesman took a deep breath, and
+said, simply yet proudly, as if describing the _piece de
+resistance_ of this exhibition:
+
+"The four-eyed gent is Willie, plain Willie, a born range-rider,
+_and the best hip shot this side of the Santa Fe trail!_"
+
+Speed beheld an undersized man of indeterminate age, hollow-
+chested, thin-faced, gravely benignant. It was not alone his
+glasses that lent him a scholarly appearance; he had the stooped
+shoulders, the thoughtful intensity of gaze, the gentle,
+hesitating backwardness of a book-raised man. There were tutors
+at Yale quite as colorless, characterless and indefinite, and
+immensely more forceful. In place of the revolver at his belt, it
+seemed as if Willie should have carried a geologist's pick, a
+butterfly-net, or a magnifying-glass: one was prepared to hear
+him speak learnedly of microscopy, or even, perhaps, of
+settlement work. As a cowboy he was utterly out of place, and it
+was quite impossible to take Stover's words seriously.
+Nevertheless, Speed acknowledged the introduction pleasantly,
+while the benevolent little man blinked back of his lenses.
+Stover addressed himself to Miss Blake.
+
+"I told the boys what you said, miss, and we four has come as a
+delegation to find out if it goes."
+
+"Mr. Speed and I were just talking about it when you came," said
+Helen. "I'm sure he will consent if you add your entreaties to
+mine."
+
+"It would sure be a favor," said the cow-man, at which the others
+drew nearer, as if hanging on Speed's answer. Even Cloudy turned
+his black eyes upon the young man.
+
+The object of their co-operate gaze shifted his feet
+uncomfortably and felt minded to flee, but the situation would
+not permit of it. Besides, the affair interested him. His mind
+was working rapidly, albeit his words were hesitating.
+
+"I--I'm afraid I'm not in shape to run," he ventured. But Stover
+would have none of this modesty, admirable as it might appear.
+
+"Oh, I talked with your trainer just now. I told him you was
+tipped off to us as a sprinter."
+
+"What did he say?" inquired Speed, with alarm.
+
+"He said 'no' at first, till I told him who let it out; then he
+laughed, and said he guessed you was a runner, but you didn't
+work at it regular. I asked him how good you was, and he said
+none of the college teams would let you run. That's good enough
+for us, Mr. Speed."
+
+"But I'm not in condition," objected the youth, with a sigh of
+gratitude at Glass's irony.
+
+"I reckon he knows more about that than you do. We covered that
+point too, and Mr. Glass said you was never better than you are
+right now. Anyhow, you don't have to bust no records to beat this
+cook. He ain't so fast."
+
+"It would sure be a kind-hearted act if you'd do it for us," said
+the little man in his high, boyish voice. It was a shock to
+discover that he spoke in a dialect. "There's a heap of sentiment
+connected with this affair. You see, outside of being a prize
+that we won at considerable risk, there goes with this phonograph
+a set of records, among which we all have our special favorites.
+Have you ever heard Madam-o-sella Melby sing _The Holy
+City_?"
+
+"I didn't know she sang it," said Speed.
+
+"Take it from me, she did, and you've missed a heap."
+
+"You bet," Stover agreed, in a hushed, awed tone.
+
+"Well, you must have heard Missus Heleney Moray in _The Baggage
+Coach Ahead_?" queried the scholarly little man. At mention of
+his beloved classic, Carara, the Mexican, murmured, softly:
+
+"Ah! _The Baggage Car_--Te'adora Mora! God bless 'er!"
+
+"I must confess I've never had the pleasure," said Speed,
+whereupon the speaker regarded him pityingly, and Stover, jealous
+that so much of the conversation had escaped him, inquired:
+
+"Can it be that you never heard that monologue, _Silas on Fifth
+Avenoo_?"
+
+Again Speed shook his head.
+
+As if the very memory were hilariously funny, Still Bill's
+shoulders heaved, and stifled laughter caused his Adam's apple to
+race up and down his leathern throat. Swallowing his merriment at
+length, he recited, in a choking voice, as follows: "Silas goes
+up Fifth Avenoo and climbs into a bus. There is a girl settin'
+opposite. He says, 'The girl opened her valise, took out her
+purse, closed her valise, opened her purse, took out a dime,
+closed her purse, opened her valise, put in her purse, closed her
+valise, handed the dime to the conductor, got a nickle in change,
+opened her valise, took out her purse, closed her valise, opened
+her purse--'"
+
+At this point the speaker fell into ungovernable hysteria and
+exploded, rocking back and forth, slapping his thighs and
+hiccoughing with enjoyment. Willie followed him, as did Carara.
+Even Cloudy showed his teeth, and the two young people on the
+porch found themselves joining in from infection. It was patent
+that here lay some subtle humor sufficient to convulse the Far
+Western nature beyond all reason; for Stover essayed repeatedly
+to check his laughter before gasping, finally: "Gosh 'lmighty! I
+never can get past that place. He! He! He! Whoo-hoo! That's sure
+ridic'lous, for fair." He wiped his eyes with the back of a
+sun-browned hand, and his frame was racked with barking coughs. "I
+know the whole blame thing by heart, but--I can't recite it to
+you. I bog down right there. Seems like some folks is the
+darndest fools!"
+
+Speed allowed this good-humor to banish his trepidation, and
+assured the foreman that _Silas on Fifth Avenue_ must indeed
+be a very fine monologue.
+
+"It's my favorite," said Still Bill, "but we all have our picks.
+Cloudy here likes _Navajo_, which I agree is attuned to
+please the savage year, but to my mind it ain't in the runnin'
+with _Silas._"
+
+"You see what the phonograph means to these gentlemen," said Miss
+Blake. "I think it's a crying shame that they were cheated out of
+it, don't you?"
+
+Speed began to outline a plan hastily in his mind.
+
+"I assured them that you would win it back for them, and--"
+
+"We sure hope you will," said Willie, earnestly.
+
+"Amen!" breathed the lanky foreman, his cheeks still wet from his
+tears of laughter, but his face drawn into lines of eagerness.
+
+"Please! For my sake!" urged Helen, placing a gentle little hand
+upon her companion's arm.
+
+Speed closed his eyes, so to speak, and leaped in the dark.
+
+"All right, I'll do it!"
+
+"Yow-ee!" yelled Stover. "We knew you would!" Willie was beaming
+benignantly through his glasses, while both Carara and Cloudy
+showed their heartfelt gratitude. "Thank you, Miss Blake. Now
+we'll show up that shave-tail Centipede crowd for what it is."
+
+"Wait!" Speed checked the outburst. "I'll consent upon
+conditions. I'll run, provided you can arrange the race for an
+'unknown.'"
+
+"What does that mean?" Helen asked.
+
+"It means that I don't want my name known in the matter. Instead
+of arranging for Mr. Whatever-the-Cook's-Name-Is to run a race
+with J. W. Speed, he must agree to compete against a
+representative of the Flying Heart ranch, name unknown."
+
+"I don't think that is fair!" cried the girl. "Think of the
+honor."
+
+"Yes, but I'm an amateur. I'd lose my standing."
+
+"That goes for us," said Stover. "We don't care what name you run
+under. We'll frame the race. Lordy! but this is a glorious
+event."
+
+"We can't thank you enough," Willie piped. "You're a true sport,
+Mr. Speed, and we aim to see that you don't get the worst of it
+in no way. This here race is goin' to be on the square-you hear
+me talk-in'. No double-cross this time." Unconsciously the
+speaker's hand strayed to the gun at his belt, while his smile
+was grim. Speed started.
+
+"What day shall we set?" inquired Stover.
+
+Wally rapidly calculated the date of Culver's arrival, and said:
+"A week from Saturday." Covington would soon be _en route_,
+and was due to arrive a few days thereafter.
+
+"We'd like to make it to-morrow," ventured Willie.
+
+"Oh, but I must have a chance to get in trim," said the college
+man.
+
+"One week from Saturday goes," announced Stover, "and we thank
+you again." Turning to Carara, he directed: "Rope your buckskin,
+and hike for the Centipede. Tell 'em to unlimber their coin. I'll
+draw a month's wages in advance for every son-of-a-gun on the
+Flying Heart, and we'll arrange details to-night."
+
+"_Si_," agreed Carara. "I go."
+
+"And don't waste no time neither," directed Willie. "You tear
+like a jack-rabbit ahead of a hot wind."
+
+Carara tossed his cigarette aside, and the sound of his spurs was
+lost around the corner of the house.
+
+"This makes a boy of me," the last speaker continued. "I can hear
+the plaintiff notes of Madam-o-sella Melby once again."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+Larry Glass discovered his protege on the rear porch engrossed
+with Miss Blake, and signalled him from afar; but the young man
+ignored the signal, and the trainer strolled up to the steps.
+
+"Hello, Larry! What's on your mind?" inquired Speed.
+
+"I'd like to see you." Glass, clad in his sportiest garments,
+seemed utterly lacking in the proper appreciation of a valet's
+position. He treated his employer with a tolerant good-nature.
+
+Miss Blake excused herself and went into the house, whereupon her
+companion showed his irritation. "See here, Larry, don't you know
+better than to interrupt me in the midst of a hammock talk?"
+
+"Oh, that's all right," wheezed the trainer. "As long as you
+didn't spill her out, she'll be back."
+
+"Well, what is it?"
+
+"I had a stomach-laugh slipped to me just now." He began to
+shake.
+
+"So you broke up my tete-a-tete to tell me a funny story?"
+
+"Listen here. These cowboys have got you touted for a foot-
+runner." This time Glass laughed aloud, hoarsely. "They have
+framed a race with a ginny down the block."
+
+"All right, I'll run."
+
+Mr. Glass's face abruptly fell into solemn lines. "Quit your
+kiddin', Wally; you couldn't run a hundred yards in twenty
+minutes. These guys are on the level. They've sent General Garcia
+over to cook it."
+
+"Yes. The race comes off in ten days."
+
+Glass allowed his mouth to drop open and his little eyes to peer
+forth in startled amazement.
+
+"Then it's true? I guess this climate is too much for you," he
+said. "When did you feel this comin' on?"
+
+Speed laughed. "I know what I'm doing." With an effort at
+restraint, the trainer inquired:
+
+"What's the idea?"
+
+"I'll tell you how it came up, Larry. I--I'm very fond of Miss
+Blake. That's why I broke the record getting out here as soon as
+I was invited. Well, she believes, from something I said--one of
+those odd moments, you know--that I'm a great athlete, and she
+told those cowboys that I'd gladly put on my spiked shoes and
+carry their colors to victory. You've heard about the
+phonograph?"
+
+Glass smiled wearily. "I can't hear nothing else. The gang is
+daffy on grand opera."
+
+"When I was accused of being an athlete I couldn't deny it, could
+I?"
+
+"I see. You was stringin' the gal, and she called you, eh?"
+
+"I wouldn't express it in quite those terms. I may have
+exaggerated my abilities slightly." Glass laughed. "She is such a
+great admirer of athletics, it was quite natural. Any man would
+have done the same. She got me committed in front of the cowboys,
+and I had to accept--or be a quitter."
+
+Glass nodded appreciatively. "All the same," said he, "you've got
+more nerve than a burglar. How you goin' to side-step?"
+
+"I made the match for an 'unknown.'" Speed winked. "Covington
+will be here in a day or two. I'll wire him to hurry up.
+Fortunately I brought a lot of athletic clothes with me, so I'll
+go into training under your direction. When Covington gets here
+I'll let _him_ run."
+
+The fat man sighed with relief. "Now I'm hep. I was afraid you'd
+try to go through with it."
+
+"Hardly. I'll sprain an ankle, or something. She'll be there with
+the sympathy. See? Covington will run the race; the cowboys will
+get their phonograph; and I'll get--well, if I can beat out this
+Native Son tenor singer, I'll invite you to the wedding. There
+wasn't any other way out."
+
+Glass mopped his brow. "You had me wingin' for a while, but I
+plugged your game with the cowboys. Pawnee Bill and his Congress
+of Rough Riders think you're a cyclone."
+
+"It's the first chance I ever had to wear that silk running-suit.
+Who knows, maybe I _can_ run!"
+
+"Nix, now! Don't kid yourself too far. This thing is funny enough
+as it stands."
+
+"Oh, I dare say it looks like a joke to you, but it doesn't to
+me, Larry. If I don't marry that girl, I--I'll go off my balance,
+that's all, and I'm not going to overlook any advantage whatever.
+Fresno sings love-songs, and he's got a mint of money. Well, I'm
+going to work this athletic pose to death. I'm going into
+training, I'm going to talk, eat, sleep, live athletics for a
+week, and when I'm unexpectedly crippled on the eve of the race,
+it is going to break my heart. Understand! I am going to be so
+desperately disappointed that I'll have to choose between suicide
+and marriage. The way I feel now, I think I'll choose marriage.
+But you must help."
+
+"Leave it to me, Bo!"
+
+"In the first place, I want some training-quarters."
+
+"That's right, don't be a piker."
+
+"And I want you to boost."
+
+"I'm there! When do we begin?"
+
+"Right away. Unpack my running-suit and rub some dirt on it--it's
+too new. I think I'll limber up, and let her get a look at the
+clothes."
+
+"It's a bright idea; but don't let these animal-trainers see you
+run, or the stuff will be cold in a minute."
+
+"Fine! We'll have secret practice! That suits me perfectly."
+Speed laughed with joy.
+
+From inside the house came the strains of _Dearie_, sung in
+a sympathetic tenor, and upon the conclusion Berkeley Fresno's
+voice inquiring:
+
+"Miss Blake, did I ever tell you about the time I sang
+_Dearie_ to the mayor's daughter in Walla Walla?"
+
+Miss Blake appeared on the gallery with her musical admirer at
+her elbow.
+
+"Yes," said she, sweetly. "You told me all about the mayor's
+daughter a week ago." Then spying Speed and his companion, she
+exclaimed: "Mr. Fresno has a fine voice, hasn't he? He sings with
+the Stanford Glee Club."
+
+"Indeed."
+
+"Sure!" The Native Son of the Golden West shook up a hammock-
+cushion for the girl. "Tenor!" said he, sententiously.
+
+"Say no more," Speed remarked; "it's all right with us!"
+
+Fresno looked up.
+
+"What's wrong with my singing?"
+
+"Oh, I've just told the girls that you're going to run that foot-
+race," Helen interposed, hurriedly, at which Fresno exploded.
+
+"What's wrong with my running?" inquired Speed.
+
+"I can beat you!"
+
+Larry Glass nudged his employer openly, and seemed on the verge
+of hysteria. "Let him go," said he. "Let him go; he's funny."
+
+Speed addressed Helen, with a magnanimous smile:
+
+"Suppose we allow Frez to _sing_ this foot-race? We'll pull
+it off in the treble cleff."
+
+"Oh, I mean it!" maintained the tenor, stubbornly. "I don't want
+to run Skinner, the cook, but I'll run you to see who does meet
+him."
+
+Speed shrugged his shoulders indulgently.
+
+"I'm afraid you're a little overweight."
+
+"I'll train down."
+
+"Perhaps if you wait until I beat this cook, I'll take you on."
+
+Glass broke out, in husky indignation: "Sure! Get a rep, Cull,
+get a rep!" Then to his employer: "Come on, Wally, you've got to
+warm up." He mounted the steps heavily with his protege.
+
+When they had gone, Miss Blake clapped her hands.
+
+"I'm so excited!" she exclaimed. "You see, it's all my doings!
+Oh, how I adore athletes!"
+
+"Most young girls do," Fresno smiled, sourly. "My taste runs more
+to music." After a moment's meditation, he observed: "Speed
+doesn't look like a sprinter to me. I--I'll wager he can't do a
+hundred yards in fifteen-two."
+
+"'Fifteen-two' is cribbage," said Miss Blake.
+
+"Fifteen and two-fifths seconds is what I mean."
+
+"Is that fast?"
+
+Fresno smiled, indulgently this time. "Jean's friend Covington
+can go the distance in nine and four-fifths seconds. He's a real
+sprinter. I think this fellow is a joke."
+
+"Indeed he is _not!_ If Mr. Covington can run as fast as
+that, Mr. Speed can run faster. He told me so."
+
+"Oh!" Fresno looked at her curiously. "The world's record is nine
+and _three_-fifths; that's the limit of human endurance."
+
+"I hope he doesn't injure himself," breathed the girl, and the
+tenor wandered away, disgusted beyond measure. When he was out of
+hearing, he remarked, aloud:
+
+"I'll bet he runs so slow we'll have to wind a stop-watch on him.
+Anyhow, I think I'll find out something more about this race."
+
+Once in his room, Mr. J. Wallingford Speed made a search for
+writing materials, while Larry Glass overhauled a trunk filled
+with athletic clothing of various descriptions. There were
+running-suits, rowing-suits, baseball and football suits,
+sweaters, jerseys, and bath robes--all of which were new and
+unstained. At the bottom Glass discovered a box full of bronze
+and near-gold emblems.
+
+"Here's your medals," said he.
+
+"Good! I'll wear them."
+
+"Nix! You can't do that. Those gals will get wise." He selected
+one, and read on the reverse side. "Clerk of the course"; another
+was engraved "Starter." All were official badges of some sort or
+other. "You always were strong on the 'Reception Committee'
+stuff. There's six of them," said he.
+
+Speed pointed to the bureau. "Try a nail-file. See if you can't
+scratch off the lettering. How's this?" He read what he had
+written for the wire. "'Culver Covington, and so forth. Come
+quick. First train. Native Son making love to Jean.--Wally.' Ten
+words, and it tells the whole story. I can hardly explain why I
+want him, can I? He expects to stop off in Omaha for a day or
+two, but he'll be under way in an hour after he gets this. I hate
+to spoil his little visit, but he can take that in on his way
+home. Now I'll ring for somebody, and have this taken over to the
+station by the first wagon."
+
+"Say, you better scratch this Fresno," said Larry.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"He's hep to you."
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+Glass looked up at a sound, to discover Mariedetta, the Mexican
+maid, who had come in answer to Speed's call.
+
+"In the doorway'" the trainer said, under his breath. "Pipe the
+Cuban Queen!"
+
+"You call?" inquired Mariedetta of the younger man.
+
+"Yes, I want this telegram to go to the depot as soon as
+possible."
+
+Mariedetta took the message and turned silently, but as she went
+she flashed a look at Glass which caused that short-waisted
+gentleman to wink at his companion.
+
+"Some frill! Eh? I'm for her! She's strong for me, too."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"We talked it over. I gave her a little kiss to keep for me."
+
+"Careful, Larry! She may have a cowboy sweetheart."
+
+Glass grunted, disparagingly.
+
+"Them ginnys is jokes to me."
+
+As Speed talked he clad himself in his silken uniform, donned his
+spiked shoes, and pinned the medals upon his chest.
+
+"How do I look?" he queried.
+
+"Immense! If she likes athletes, it's a walk-away for you."
+
+"Then give me the baby-blue bath robe with the monogram. We'll go
+out and trot around a little."
+
+But his complacency received a shock as he stepped out upon the
+veranda. Not only Helen Blake awaited him, but the other girls as
+well, while out in front were a dozen or more cowboys whom Fresno
+had rallied. "Goin' to take a little run, eh?" inquired Stover.
+"We allowed we'd lay off a few minutes and watch you."
+
+"Thanks!"
+
+"Yes," Fresno spoke up. "I told the boys we'd better hold a stop-
+watch on you and see what shape you're in."
+
+"A stop-watch?" said Glass, sharply.
+
+"Yes. I have one."
+
+"Not to-day," said Speed's trainer. "No!" he admonished, as his
+protege turned upon him. "Some other time, mebbe. You're just off
+a long trip, and I can't risk gettin' you stove up."
+
+"To-morrow, perhaps," urged Fresno.
+
+"I wouldn't promise."
+
+"Then the next day. I've timed lots of men. The watch is
+correct."
+
+"Let's see it." Glass held out his hand.
+
+"Oh, it's a good watch. It cost me one hundred and twenty-five
+dollars."
+
+As Glass reached for the timepiece an unfortunate accident
+occurred. Speed struck his elbow, and the watch fell. Fresno dove
+for it, then held it to his ear and shook it.
+
+"You've broken it!" he cried, accusingly.
+
+"Oh, I'm sorry! My fault," Speed apologized.
+
+"If it was your fault, maybe you'll fix it," suggested the tenor.
+
+"Gladly!" Speed turned to his trainer. "Buy a new alarm-clock
+for our little friend." He stripped off his bath robe, and handed
+it to his trainer. "Is she looking at me?" he whispered.
+
+"Both eyes, big as saucers."
+
+Speed settled his spikes into the dirt as he had seen other
+sprinters do, set himself for an instant, then loped easily
+around the house and out of sight.
+
+To the cowboys this athletic panoply was vastly impressive. With
+huge satisfaction they noticed the sleeveless shirt, the loose
+running-trunks, and, above all, the generous display of medals.
+With a wild yell of delight they broke out upon the trail of
+their champion, only to have Glass thrust his corpulent body in
+their path. With an upflung arm he stemmed the tide.
+
+"It's no use, boys," he cried, "he's a mile away!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+"This doesn't look much like our storehouse, does it?" Jean
+paused in her task, and, seating herself upon the summit of a
+step-ladder, scrutinized with satisfaction the transformation
+wrought by a myriad of college flags, sofa cushions, colored
+shawls, and bunting.
+
+Roberta Keap dropped her hammer with an exclamation of pain.
+
+"Ouch!" she cried, "I've hurt my thumb. I can't hit where I look
+when people are talking."
+
+"Why don't you pin them up?" queried Miss Blake, sweetly. "A
+hammer is so dangerous."
+
+Mrs. Keap mumbled something, but her enunciation was indistinct,
+owing to the fact that her thumb was in her mouth. Helen finished
+tying a bow of ribbon upon the leg of a stool, patted it into
+proper form, then said:
+
+"It looks cheerful."
+
+"And restful," added Jean.
+
+"I think a gymnasium should be restful, above all things," agreed
+Helen. "Most of them are so bare and strenuous-looking they give
+one a headache." She spied a Whiteley exerciser fastened against
+the wall, the one bit of gymnastic apparatus in the room. 'Oh,
+the puller!' she cried. "I mustn't forget the puller!" She
+selected a pink satin ribbon, and tied a chic bow upon one of the
+wooden handles. "There! We can let him in now."
+
+"Oh dear!" Jean descended from her precarious position and
+admitted, "I'm tired out."
+
+All that morning the three had labored, busily transforming the
+store-room into training-quarters for Speed, who had declared
+that such things were not only customary but necessary. To be
+sure, it adjoined the bunk-room, where the cowboys slept, and
+there were no gymnastic appliances to give it character, but it
+was the only space available, and what it lacked in horizontal
+bars, dumb-bells, and Indian clubs it more than compensated for
+by a cosey-corner, a window-seat, and many cushions. Speed had
+expressed his delight with the idea, and agreed to wait for a
+glimpse of it.
+
+And the atmosphere at the Flying Heart Ranch was clearing. The
+gloom of the cowboys had given way to a growing excitement, a
+part of which communicated itself to the occupants of the house.
+The lassitude of previous days was gone, the monotony had
+disappeared, and Miss Chapin had cause to rejoice at the presence
+of her latest guest, for Speed was like a tonic. He was
+everywhere, he inspired them all, laughter followed in his wake.
+Even in the bunk-house the cowboys retailed his extravagant
+stories with delight. The Flying Heart had come into its own at
+last; the Centipede, most scorned and hated of rivals, was due
+for lasting defeat. Even Cloudy, the Indian, relaxed and spoke at
+rare intervals, while Willie worked about the place gleefully,
+singing snatches of _Sam Bass_ in a tuneless falsetto.
+Carara had come back from the Centipede with news that gladdened
+the hearts of his hearers: not only would that despicable outfit
+consent to run a foot-race, but they clamored for it. They did
+not dicker over details nor haggle about terms, but consented to
+put up the phonograph again, and all the money at their disposal
+as well. The cook was in training.
+
+Of all the denizens of the Flying Heart but two failed to enter
+fully into the spirit of the thing. Berkeley Fresno looked on
+with a cynicism which he was too wise to display before Miss
+Blake. Seeing the lady of his dreams monopolized by a rival,
+however, inspired him to sundry activities, and he spent much of
+his time among the cowboys, whom he found profitable to the point
+of mystery.
+
+Mrs. Keap, the youthful chaperon, seemed likewise mastered by
+some private trouble, and puzzled her companions vaguely. Helen
+reported that she did not sleep, and once Jean found her crying
+softly. She seemed, moreover, to be apprehensive, in a tremulous,
+reasonless ways but when with friendly sympathy they brought the
+subject up, she dismissed it. In spite of secret tears, she had
+lent willing hands to the decoration of the gymnasium, and now
+nursed her swollen thumb with surprising good nature.
+
+"Shall we let them in?" she inquired. "We have done all we can."
+
+"Yes; we have finished."
+
+In a flutter of anticipation Jean and Helen put the final touches
+to their task, while Mrs. Keap stepped to the door and called
+Speed.
+
+He came at once, followed by Larry Glass, who, upon grasping the
+scheme of decoration, smote his brow and balanced dizzily upon
+his heels. Speed was lost in admiration.
+
+"Its wonderful!" ejaculated the young athlete. "Those college
+flags give it just the right touch. And see the cosey-corner!"
+
+Glass regained his voice sufficiently to murmur, sarcastically,
+"Say, ain't this a swell-looking drum?"
+
+"We've used every bit of bunting on the ranch," said Jean.
+
+"See the Mexican shawls!" Mrs. Keap added.
+
+"And look," cried Miss Blake, "I brought you my prayer-rug!" She
+displayed a small Persian rug, worn and faded, evidently a thing
+of great age, at which Speed uttered an exclamation. "I always
+carry it with me, and put it in front of my bed wherever I happen
+to be."
+
+Berkeley Fresno, drawn by the irresistible magnetism of Miss
+Blake's presence, wandered in and ran his eyes over the room.
+
+Speed took the rug and examined it curiously. "It's an old-timer,
+isn't it? Must be one of the first settlers."
+
+"Yes. It's thousands and thousands of years old. Father picked it
+up somewhere in Asia."
+
+"How does it work?" queried Glass, feeling of it gingerly.
+
+"It's a very holy thing," Helen explained. "The Mohammedan stands
+on it facing the East and cries 'Allah!'"
+
+"Alley!" repeated the trainer. "No. Allah!"
+
+"'Allah' is the Mohammedan divinity," explained Speed.
+
+"I've got you." Glass was greatly interested.
+
+"Then he makes his prayer. It is such a sacred thing that when
+one's feet are on it no harm can come to one."
+
+"Well, what d'you think of that?" murmured the trainer.
+
+Fresno laughed pleasantly. "It's too bad it isn't long enough to
+run this footrace on."
+
+"Do you believe in the charm?" inquired Speed of Helen.
+
+"Of course I do," she answered.
+
+He laughed sceptically, whereupon Larry Glass broke in with husky
+accents:
+
+"Nix on the comedy! I bet it's a wizard!"
+
+His employer gazed warmly at the owner of the priceless treasure,
+and, taking the rug tenderly, pressed his lips to it.
+
+Fresno shook his head in disgust; the brazen methods of this
+person were unbearable.
+
+"Why all the colors?" asked he. "You can sing best where there is
+a piano. I can train best under the shadow of college emblems. I
+am a temperamental athlete."
+
+"You'll be a dead athlete if you don't beat this cook." The
+Californian was angry.
+
+"Indeed!" exclaimed his rival, airily.
+
+"That's what I remarked. Did they tell you what happened to Humpy
+Joe, your predecessor?"
+
+"It must have been an accident, judging from his name." At which
+Miss Blake tittered. She was growing to enjoy these passages at
+arms; they thrilled her vaguely.
+
+"The only accident connected with the affair was that Still Bill
+and Willie didn't have their guns."
+
+Glass started nervously. "Did these rummies want to shoot him?"
+he inquired.
+
+"Certainly," said Fresno. "He lost a foot-race."
+
+In spite of his assurance, J. Wallingford Speed felt a tremor of
+anxiety, but he laughed it off, saying: "One would think a foot-
+race in this country was a pearl necklace."
+
+"These cowboys ain't good losers, eh?" queried Glass.
+
+"It's win or die out here."
+
+During the ensuing pause Mrs. Keap took occasion to call Speed
+aside. "I have something to contribute to the training-quarters
+if you will help me bring it out," said she.
+
+The young man bowed. "Most gladly."
+
+"We'll be back in a little while," the chaperon announced to the
+others, and a moment later, when she and Speed had reached the
+veranda of the house, she paused.
+
+"I--I want to speak to you," she began, hesitatingly. "It was
+just an excuse."
+
+Wally looked at her with concern, for it was plain that she was
+deeply troubled.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"I have been trying to get a word alone with you ever since I
+heard about this foot-race." The young man chilled with
+apprehension as Mrs. Keap turned her dark eyes upon him
+searchingly.
+
+"Why do you want to run?"
+
+"To win back the cowboys' treasure. My heart is touched," he
+declared, boldly. Mrs. Keap smiled.
+
+"I believe the latter, but are you sure you can win?"
+
+"Abso-blooming-lutely."
+
+"I didn't know you were a sprinter."
+
+Speed shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Have you had experience?"
+
+"Oceans of it!"
+
+Mrs. Keap mused for a moment. "Tell me," said she, finally, "at
+what intercollegiate game did you run last?"
+
+"I didn't run last; I ran first." It was impossible to resent the
+boy's smile.
+
+"Then at what game did you last run? I hope I'm not too curious?"
+
+"Oh no, not at all!" Speed stammered.
+
+"Or, if it is easier, at what college games did you first run?"
+Mrs. Keap was laughing openly now.
+
+"Why the clear, ringing, rippling laughter?" asked the young man,
+to cover his confusion.
+
+"Because I think it is very funny."
+
+"Oh, you do!" Speed took refuge behind an attitude of unbending
+dignity, but the young widow would have none of it.
+
+"I know all about you," said she. "You are a very wonderful
+person, of course; you are a delightful fellow at a house-party,
+and a most suitable individual generally, but you are not an
+athlete, in spite of those beautiful clothes in your trunk."
+
+"Who told you?"
+
+"Culver Covington."
+
+"I didn't know you two were acquainted."
+
+Mrs. Keap flushed. "He told me all about you long ago. You wear
+all the athletic clothes, you know all the talk, you have tried
+to make the team a dozen times, but you are not even a
+substitute. You are merely the Varsity cheer-leader. Culver calls
+you 'the head-yeller.'"
+
+"Columbus has discovered our continent!" said Speed. "You are a
+very wise chaperon, and you must have a corking memory for names,
+but even a head-yeller is better than a glee-club quarter-back."
+He nodded toward the bunk-house, whence they had come. "You
+haven't told anybody?"
+
+"Not yet."
+
+"'Yet,'" he quoted. "The futurity implied in that word disturbs
+me. Suppose you and I keep it for a little secret? Secrets are
+very delightful at house-parties."
+
+"Don't you consider your action deceitful?"
+
+"Not at all. My motto is 'We strive to please.'"
+
+"Think of Helen."
+
+"That's it; I can't think of anything else! She's mad about
+athletics, and I had to do something to stand off this weight-
+lifting tenor."
+
+"Is it any wonder a woman distrusts every man she meets?" mused
+the chaperon. "Helen might forgive you, I couldn't."
+
+"Oh, it's not that bad. I know what I'm doing."
+
+"You will cause these cowboys to lose a lot more money."
+
+"Not at all. When Culver arrives--"
+
+"Oh, that is what I want to talk over with you," Mrs. Keap broke
+in, nervously.
+
+"Then it isn't about the foot-race? You are not angry?" Speed
+brightened amazingly.
+
+"I'm not exactly angry; I'm surprised and grieved. Of course, I
+can't forgive deceit--I dare say I am more particular than most
+people."
+
+"But you won't tell?" Mrs. Keap indicated in some subtle manner
+that she was not above making terms, whereupon her companion
+declared, warmly: "I'm yours for life! Ask me for my watch, my
+right eye, anything! I'll give it to you!"
+
+"I assure you I sha'n't ask anything so important as that, but I
+_shall_ ask a favor."
+
+"Name it and it is yours!" Speed wrung the hand she offered.
+
+"And perhaps I can do more than keep silent--although I don't see
+what good it will do. Perhaps I can help your suit."
+
+"Gracious lady, all I ask is that you thrust out your foot and
+trip up Berkeley Fresno whenever he starts toward her. Put him
+out of the play, and I shall be the happiest man in the world."
+
+"Agreed."
+
+"Now, in what way can I serve you?"
+
+Mrs. Keap became embarrassed, while the same shadowy trouble that
+had been observed of late settled upon her.
+
+"I simply hate to ask it," she said, "but I suppose I must. There
+seems to be no other way out of it." Turning to him suddenly, she
+said, in a low, intense voice: "I--I'm in trouble, Mr. Speed,
+such dreadful trouble!"
+
+"Oh, I'm so sorry!" he answered her, with genuine solicitude.
+"You needn't have made any conditions. I would have done anything
+I could for you."
+
+"That's very kind, for I don't like our air of conspiracy, but"--
+Mrs. Keap was wringing her slender hands--"I just can't tell the
+girls. You--you can help me."
+
+Speed allowed her time to grow calm, when she continued:
+
+"I--I am engaged to be married."
+
+"Felicitations!"
+
+"Not at all," said the young widow, wretchedly. "That is the
+awful part of it. I am engaged to _two_ men!" She turned her
+brown eyes full upon him; they were strained and tragic.
+
+Speed felt himself impelled to laugh immoderately, but instead he
+observed, in a tone to relieve her anxiety:
+
+"Nothing unusual in that; it has been done before. Even I have
+been prodigal with my affections. What can I do to relieve the
+congestion?"
+
+"Please don't make light of it. It means so much to me. I--I'm in
+love with Jack Chapin."
+
+"With Jack!"
+
+"Yes. When I came here I thought I cared for somebody else. Why,
+I wanted to come here just because I knew that--that somebody
+else had been invited too, and we could be together."
+
+"And he couldn't come--"
+
+"Wait! And then, when I got here, I met Jack Chapin. That was
+less than a week ago, and yet in that short time I have learned
+that he is the only man I can ever love--the one man in all the
+world."
+
+"And you can't accept because you have a previous engagement. I
+see! Jove! It's quite dramatic. But I don't see why you are so
+excited? If the other chap isn't coming--"
+
+"But he is! That is what makes it so dreadful! If those two men
+should meet"--Mrs. Keap buried her face in her hands and
+shuddered--"there would be a tragedy, they are both so
+frightfully jealous." She began to tremble, and Speed laid a
+comforting hand upon her shoulder.
+
+"I think you must be exciting yourself unduly," said he, "Jean's
+other friends didn't come. There's nobody due now but Culver Cov--"
+
+"That's who it is!" Roberta raised her pallid face as the young
+man fell back.
+
+"Culver! Great Scott! Why, he's engaged--"
+
+"What!"
+
+"Nothing! I--I--" Speed paused, at an utter loss for words. "You
+see, he'll discover the truth."
+
+"Does he know you are here?"
+
+"No. I intended to surprise him. I was jealous. I couldn't bear
+to think of his being here with other girls--men are so
+deceitful! That's why I consented to act as chaperon to Helen.
+And now to think that I should have met my fate in Jack Chapin!"
+
+"I see. You want me to break the news to Culver."
+
+"No! no!" Mrs. Keap was aghast. "If he even suspected the truth
+he'd become a raging lion. Oh, I've been quite distracted ever
+since Jack left!"
+
+"Well, what am I to do? You must have some part laid out for me?"
+
+"I have. A desperate situation demands a desperate remedy. I've
+lost all conscience. That's why I agreed to protect you if you'd
+protect me."
+
+"Go ahead."
+
+"Culver is your friend."
+
+"We're closer than a chord in G."
+
+"Then you must wire him--"
+
+"I have--"
+
+"--not to come."
+
+"What!" J. Wallingford Speed started as if a wasp had stung him.
+
+"You must wire him at once not to come. I don't care what excuse
+you give, but stop him. _Stop_ him!"
+
+Speed reached for a pillar; he felt that the porch was spinning
+slowly beneath his feet.
+
+"Oh, see here, now! I can't do that!"
+
+"You promised!" cried Mrs. Keap, fiercely. "I have tried to think
+of something to tell him, but I'm too frightened."
+
+"Yes, but--but I--want him here--for this foot-race." Wally
+swallowed bravely.
+
+"Foot-race!" stormed the widow, indignantly. "Would you allow an
+insignificant thing like a foot-race to wreck a human life? Two
+human lives? _Three?_"
+
+"Can't you--wire him?"
+
+Mrs. Keap stamped her foot. "If he dreamed I was here he would
+hire a special train. No! It must come from you. You are his best
+friend."
+
+"What can I say?" demanded the bewildered Speed, unhappily. "I
+don't care what you say, I don't care what you do--only do
+_something_, and do it quickly before he has time to leave
+Chicago." Then sensing the hesitation in her companion's face:
+"Or perhaps you prefer to have Helen know the deceit you have
+practiced upon her? And I fancy these cowboys would resent the
+joke, don't you? What do you think would happen if they
+discovered their champion to be merely a cheerleader with a
+trunkful of new clothes, who can't do a single out-door sport--
+not one!"
+
+"Wait!" Speed mopped his brow with a red-and-blue silk
+handkerchief. "I'll do my best."
+
+"Then I shall do my part." And Mrs. Keap, who could not bear
+deception, turned and went indoors while J. Wallingford Speed, a
+prey to sundry misgivings, stumbled down the steps, his head in a
+whirl.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Berkeley Fresno was devoting himself to Miss Blake.
+
+"What do you think of our decorations?" she inquired.
+
+"They are more or less athletic," he declared. "Was it Mr.
+Speed's idea?"
+
+"Yes. He wanted training-quarters."
+
+"It's a joke, isn't it?"
+
+"I don't think so. Mr. Fresno, why do you dislike Mr. Speed?"
+
+Fresno bent a warm glance upon the questioner. "Don't you know?"
+
+Helen shook her head with bland innocence. "Then you _do_
+dislike him?"
+
+"No, indeed! _I_ like him--he makes me laugh." Helen bridled
+loyally. "Did you see those medals he wore yesterday?" the young
+man queried.
+
+"Of course, and I thought them beautiful."
+
+"How were they inscribed? He wouldn't let me examine them."
+
+"Naturally. If I had trophies like that I would guard them too."
+
+Fresno nodded, musingly. "I gave mine away."
+
+"Oh, are you an athlete?"
+
+"No, but I timed a foot-race once. They gave me a beautiful
+nearly-bronze emblem so that I could get into the infield."
+
+"And did you win?"
+
+"No! no! I didn't run! Don't you understand? I was an official."
+Fresno was vexed at the girl's lack of perception. "I'm not an
+athlete, Miss Blake. I'm just an ordinary sort of a chap." He led
+her to a seat, while Jean enlisted the aid of Larry Glass and
+completed the finishing touches to the decorations. "Athletics
+don't do a fellow any good after he leaves college. I'm going
+into business this fall. Have you ever been to California?" Miss
+Blake admitted that she had never been so far, and Fresno
+launched himself upon a glowing description of his native State;
+but before he could shape the conversation to a point where his
+hearer might perchance express a desire to see its wonders, Still
+Bill Stover thrust his head cautiously through the door to the
+bunk-house, and allowed an admiring eye to rove over the
+transformation.
+
+"Looks like a bazaar!" he exclaimed. "What's the idea?"
+
+"Trainin'-quarters," said Glass.
+
+"Mr. Speed goin' to _live_ here?" inquired the foreman,
+bringing the remainder of his lanky body into view.
+
+"No, indeed," Jean corrected, "he will merely use this room to
+train in."
+
+"How do you train in a room?" Stover asked her.
+
+"Why, you--just train, I suppose." Miss Chapin turned to Glass.
+"How does a person train in a room?"
+
+"Why, he--just trains, that's all. A guy can't train without
+trainin'-quarters, can he?"
+
+"We thought it would make a nice gymnasium," offered Miss Blake.
+
+"Looks like business." Stover's admiration was keen. "I rode over
+to Gallagher's place last night and laid our bets."
+
+"How much have you wagered?" asked Fresno.
+
+"More'n we can afford to lose."
+
+"But you aren't going to lose," Miss Blake said,
+enthusiastically.
+
+"I got Gallagher to play some records for me."
+
+"_Silas on Fifth Avenue?_"
+
+"Sure! And _The Holy City_, too! Willie stayed out by the
+barb-wire fence; he didn't dast to go in. When I come out I found
+him ready to cry. That desperado has sure got the heart of a
+woman. I reckon he'd commit a murder for that phonograph--he's so
+full of sentiment."
+
+Fresno spoke sympathetically.
+
+"It's a fortunate thing for you fellows that Speed came when he
+did. I'm anxious for him to beat this cook, and I hate to see him
+so careless with his training."
+
+"Careless!" cried Helen.
+
+"What's he done?" inquired Stover.
+
+"Nothing, so far. That's the trouble. He's sure he can win, but"
+--Fresno shook his head, doubtfully--"there's such a thing as
+overconfidence. No matter how good a man may be, he should take
+care of himself."
+
+"What's wrong with his trainin'?" demanded Glass.
+
+"I think he ought to have more rest. It's too noisy around the
+house; he can't get enough sleep."
+
+"Nor anybody else," agreed Glass, meaningly; "there's too much
+singin'."
+
+"That's funny," said Stover. "Music soothes me, no matter how bad
+it is. Last night when we come back from the Centipede Mr. Fresno
+was singin' _Dearie_, but I dozed right off in the middle of
+it. An' it's the same way with cattle. They like it. It's part of
+a man's duty when he's night-ridin' a herd to pizen the
+atmosphere with melody."
+
+"What I mean to say is this," Fresno hastened to explain. "We
+keep late hours at the house, whereas an athlete ought to retire
+early and arise with the sun. I thought it would be a good scheme
+to have Mr. Speed sleep out here until the race is over, where he
+won't be disturbed. Nine o'clock is bedtime for a man in
+training."
+
+"Oh, I don't think that is at all necessary," said Miss Blake
+quickly.
+
+"We can't afford to spoil his chances," argued the young man.
+"There is too much at stake. Am I right, Mr. Glass?"
+
+Now, like most fat men, Lawrence Glass was fond of his rest, and
+since his arrival at the Flying Heart his sleeping-hours had been
+shortened considerably, so for once he agreed with the
+Californian. "No question about it," said he. "And I'll sleep
+here with him if you'll put a couple of cots in the place."
+
+"But suppose Mr. Speed won't do it?" questioned Miss Blake.
+
+"You ask him, and he won't refuse," said Jean.
+
+"We don't want to see him defeated," urged Helen's other suitor;
+at which the girl rose, saying doubtfully:
+
+"Of course I'll do my best, if you think it's really important."
+
+"Thank you," said Stover gratefully, while Fresno congratulated
+himself upon an easy victory. "I'll ask him at once, but you must
+come along, Jean, and you too, Mr. Glass."
+
+The two girls took Speed's trainer with them, and went forth in
+search of the young man.
+
+"It's up to you fellows to see that he gets to bed early," said
+Fresno, when he and Stover were alone.
+
+"Leave it to us. And as for gettin' up, we turn out at daylight.
+I don't reckon he could sleep none after that if he tried."
+Stover pointed to the striped elastic coils of the exerciser
+against the wall. "I didn't want to speak about it while they was
+here," said he, "but one of them young ladies lost her garters."
+
+"That's not a pair of garters, that's a chest-weight."
+
+"Jest wait for what?"
+
+"Chest-weight--chest-developer."
+
+"Oh!" Stover examined the device curiously, "I thought a chest-
+developer came in a bottle."
+
+Fresno explained the operation of the apparatus, at which the
+cow-man remarked, admiringly: "That young feller is all right,
+ain't he?"
+
+"Think so?"
+
+"Sure! Don't you?"
+
+Fresno explained his doubts by a crafty lift of his brows and a
+shrug. "I thought so--at first."
+
+Stover wheeled upon him abruptly. "What's wrong?"
+
+"Oh, nothing."
+
+After a pause the foreman remarked, vaguely, "He's the
+intercollegit champeen of Yale."
+
+"Oh no, hardly that, or I would have heard of him."
+
+"Ain't he no champeen?"
+
+"Champion of the running broad smile and the half-mile talk
+perhaps."
+
+"Ain't he a foot-runner?"
+
+"Perhaps. I've never seen him run, but I have my doubts."
+
+"Good Lord!" moaned Stover, weakly.
+
+"He may be the best sprinter in the country, mind you, but I'll
+lay a little bet that he can't run a hundred yards without
+sustenance."
+
+"Without what?"
+
+"Sustenance--something to eat."
+
+"Well, we've got plenty for him to eat," said the mystified
+foreman.
+
+"You don't understand. However, time will tell."
+
+"But we ain't got no time. We've made this race 'pay or play,' a
+week from Saturday, and the bets are down. We was afraid the
+Centipede would welsh when they seen who we had, so we framed it
+that-away. What's to be done?"
+
+Again Fresno displayed an artistic restraint that was admirable.
+"It's none of my business," said he, with a careless shrug.
+
+"I--I guess I'll tell Willie and the boys," vouchsafed Bill
+apprehensively.
+
+"No! no! Don't breathe a word I've said to you. He may be a
+crackerjack, and I wouldn't do him an injustice for the world.
+All the same, I wish he hadn't broken my stop-watch."
+
+"D'you think he broke it a-purpose?"
+
+"What do you think?"
+
+Stover mopped the sweat from his brow.
+
+"Can't we time him with a ordinary watch?"
+
+"Sure. We can take yours. It won't be exact, but--"
+
+"I ain't got no watch. I bet mine last night at the Centipede.
+Willie's got one, though."
+
+"Mind you, he may be all right," Fresno repeated, reassuringly;
+then hearing the object of their discussion approaching with his
+trainer, the two strolled out through the bunk-room, Stover a
+prey to a new-born suspicion, Fresno musing to himself that
+diplomacy was not a lost art.
+
+"You're a fine friend, you are!" Speed exploded, when he and
+Glass were inside the gymnasium. "What made you say 'yes'?"
+
+"I had to."
+
+"Rot, Larry! You played into Fresno's hands deliberately! Now
+I've got to spend my evenings in bed while he sits in the hammock
+and sings _Dearie_." He shook his head gloomily. "Who knows
+what may happen?"
+
+"It will do you good to get some sleep, Wally."
+
+"But I don't want to sleep!" cried the exasperated suitor. "I
+want to make love. Do you think I came all the way from New York
+to sleep? I can do that at Yale."
+
+"Take it from me, Bo, you've got plenty of time to win that dame.
+Eight hours is a workin' day anywhere."
+
+"My dear fellow, the union hours for courting don't begin until 9
+P.M. I've got myself into a fine mess, haven't I? Just when Night
+spreads her sable mantle and Dan Cupid strings up his bow, I must
+forsake my lady-love and crawl into the hay. Oh, you're a good
+trainer!"
+
+"You'd better can some of this love-talk and think more about
+foot-racin'."
+
+"It can't be done! Nine o'clock! The middle of the afternoon.
+It's rather funny, though, isn't it?" Speed was not the sort to
+cherish even a real grievance for any considerable time. "If it
+had happened to anybody else I'd laugh myself sick."
+
+Glass chuckled. "The whole thing is a hit. Look at this joint,
+for instance." He took in their surroundings with a comprehensive
+gesture. "It looks about as much like a gymnasium as I look like
+a contortionist. Why don't you get a Morris chair and a
+mandolin?"
+
+"There are two reasons," said Speed, facetiously. "First, it
+takes an athlete to get out of a Morris chair; and, second, a
+mandolin has proved to be many a young man's ruin."
+
+Glass examined the bow of ribbon upon the lonesome piece of
+exercising apparatus.
+
+"It looks like the trainin'-stable for the Colonial Dames. What a
+yelp this place would be to Covington or any other athlete."
+
+"It is not an athletic gymnasium." Speed smiled as he lighted a
+cigarette. "It is a romantic gymnasium. As Socrates once
+observed--"
+
+"Socrates! I'm hep to him," Glass interrupted, quickly. "I
+trained a Greek professor once and got wised up on all that
+stuff. Socrates was the--the Hemlock Kid."
+
+"Exactly! As Socrates, the Hemlock Kid, deftly put it, '_In hoc
+signature vintage_.'"
+
+"I don't get you."
+
+"That is archaic Scandinavian, and, translated, means, 'Love
+cannot thrive without her bower.'"
+
+"No answer to that telegram yet, eh?"
+
+"Hardly time."
+
+"Better wire Covington again, hadn't you? Mebbe he didn't get
+it?"
+
+"I promised Mrs. Keap that I would, but--" Speed lost himself
+abruptly in speculation, for he did not know exactly how to
+manage this unexpected complication. Of one thing only was he
+certain: it would require some thought.
+
+"Say, Wally, suppose Covington don't come?"
+
+"Then I shall sprain my ankle," said the other. "Hello! What in
+the world--" Still Bill Stover and Willie came into the room
+carrying an armful of lumber. Behind them followed Carara with a
+huge wooden tub, and Cloudy rolling a kerosene barrel.
+
+"Where do you want it, gents?" inquired the foreman.
+
+"Where do we want what?"
+
+"The shower-bath."
+
+"Shower--I didn't order a shower-bath!"
+
+"No; but we aim to make it as pleasant for you as we can."
+
+"If there is anything I abhor, it's a shower-bath!" exclaimed the
+athlete.
+
+"You just got to have one. Mr. Fresno said all this gymnasium
+lacked was a shower-bath, a pair of scales, and a bulletin-board.
+He said you'd sure need a bath after workin' that chest-
+developer. We ain't got no scales, nor no board, but we'll toggle
+up some sort of a bath for you. The blacksmith's makin' a
+squirter to go on the bar'l."
+
+"Very well, put it wherever you wish. I sha'n't use it."
+
+"I wouldn't overlook nothin', if I was you," said Willie, in even
+milder tones than Stover had used.
+
+"You overwhelm me with these little attentions," retorted Mr.
+Speed.
+
+"Where you goin' to run to-day?" inquired the first speaker.
+
+"I don't know. Why?"
+
+"We thought you might do a hundred yards agin time."
+
+"Nix!" interposed Glass, hurriedly. "I can't let him overdo at
+the start. Besides, we ain't got no stop-watch."
+
+"I got a reg'lar watch," said Willie, "and I can catch you pretty
+close. We'd admire to see you travel some, Mr. Speed."
+
+But Glass vowed that he was in charge of his protege's health,
+and would not permit it. Once outside, however, he exclaimed:
+"That's more of Fresno's work, Wally! I tell you, he's Jerry.
+He'll rib them pirates to clock you, and if they do--well, you'd
+better keep runnin', that's all."
+
+"You can do me a favor," said Speed. "Buy that watch."
+
+"There's other watches on the farm."
+
+"Buy them all, and bring me the bill."
+
+Before setting out on his daily grind, Speed announced to his
+trainer that he had decided to take him along for company, and
+when that corpulent gentleman rebelled on the ground that the day
+was too sultry, his employer would have none of it, so together
+they trotted away later in the morning, Speed in his silken suit,
+Glass running flat-footed and with great effort. But once safely
+hidden from view, they dropped into a walk, and selecting a
+favorable resting-place, paused. Speed lighted a cigarette, Glass
+produced a deck of cards from his pocket, and they played seven-
+up. Having covered five miles in this exhausting fashion, they
+returned to the ranch in time for luncheon. Both ate heartily,
+for the exercise had agreed with them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+Lawrence Glass was beginning to like New Mexico. Not only did it
+afford a tinge of romance, discernable in the deep, haunting eyes
+of Mariedetta, the maid, but it offered an opportunity for
+financial advancement--as, for instance, the purchase of Willie's
+watch. This timepiece cost the trainer twenty-one dollars, and he
+sold it to Speed for double the amount, believing in the luck of
+even numbers. Nor did young Speed allow his trainer's efforts to
+cease here, for in every portable timepiece on the ranch he
+recognized a menace, and not until Lawrence had cornered the
+market and the whole collection was safely locked in his trunk
+did he breathe easily. This required two days, during which the
+young people at the ranch enjoyed themselves thoroughly. They
+were halcyon days for the Yale man, for Fresno was universally
+agreeable, and seemed resigned to the fact that Helen should
+prefer his rival's company to his own. Even when Speed had
+regretfully dragged himself off to bed in the evening, the plump
+tenor amused Miss Blake by sounding the suitor's praises as an
+athlete, reports of which pleased Wally intensely. Mr. Fresno was
+a patient person, who realized fully the fact that a fall is not
+painful unless sustained from a considerable height.
+
+As for Glass, he recounted tales of Mariedetta's capitulation to
+his employer, and wheezed merrily over the discomfiture of the
+Mexican girl's former admirers.
+
+"She's a swell little dame," he confided to Speed one afternoon,
+as they lounged luxuriously in the shade at their customary
+resting-place. "Yes, and I'm aces with her, too." They had set
+out for their daily run, and were now contesting for the seven-up
+supremacy of the Catskill Mountains. Already Glass had been
+declared the undisputed champion of the Atlantic Coast, while
+Speed on the day previous had wrested from him the championship
+of the Mississippi Valley.
+
+"But Mariedetta is dark!" said the college man, as he cut the
+cards. "She is almost a mulatto."
+
+"Naw! She's no dinge. She's an Aztec, an' them Aztec's is swell
+people. Say, she can play a guitar like a barber!"
+
+"Miss Blake told me she was in love with Carara."
+
+Glass grunted contemptuously. "I've got it on that insurrects
+four ways. Why, I'm learning to talk Spanish myself. If he gets
+flossy, I'll cross one over his bow." The trainer made a vicious
+jab at an imaginary Mexican. "He ain't got a good wallop in him."
+
+Like all New Yorkers, no matter what their station, Lawrence
+cherished a provincial contempt for such people as are not of
+Manhattan. While he was woefully timid in the presence of
+firearms, and the flash of steel reduced him to a panic, he was a
+past master at the "manly art," and carried a punch in which he
+reposed unlimited faith. The deference with which the cowboys
+treated him, their simple, child-like faith in his every
+utterance, combined to exaggerate his contempt for them. Even
+Carara, disappointed in love, treated him with a smiling,
+backward sort of courtesy which the trainer misconstructed as
+timidity.
+
+"I thought cowboys was tough guys," continued he, "but it's a
+mistake. That little Willie, for instance, is a lamb. He packs
+that Mauser for protection. He's afraid some farmer will walk up
+and poke his eye out with a corn-cob. One copper with a night-
+stick could stampede the whole outfit. But they're all right, at
+that," he acknowledged, magnanimously. "They're a nice bunch of
+fellers when you know how to take 'em."
+
+"The flies are awful to-day," Speed complained. "They bite my
+legs."
+
+"I'll bring out a bath robe to-morrow, and we'll hide it in the
+bushes. I wish there was some place to keep this beer cool."
+Glass shifted some bottles to a point where the sunlight did not
+strike them. "I'm getting tired of training, Larry," acknowledged
+the younger man, with a yawn. "It takes so much time."
+
+Glass shook his head in sympathy. "Seems like we'd ought to hear
+from Covington," said he.
+
+"He's on his way, no doubt. Isn't it time to go back to the
+ranch?"
+
+Glass consulted his watch. "No, we ain't done but three miles.
+Here goes for the rubber."
+
+It was Berkeley Fresno who retreated cautiously from the shelter
+of a thicket a hundred yards up the arroyo and started briskly
+homeward, congratulating himself upon the impulse that had
+decided him to follow the training partners upon their daily
+routine. He made directly for the corral.
+
+"Which I don't consider there's no consideration comin' to him
+whatever," said Willie that evening. "He ain't acted on the
+level."
+
+"Now, see here," objected Stover, "he may be just what he claims
+he is. Simply because he don't go skally-hootin' around in the
+hot sun ain't no sign he _can't_ run."
+
+"What about them empty beer bottles?" demanded Willie. "No feller
+can train on that stuff. I went out there myself and seen 'em.
+There was a dozen."
+
+"Mebbe Glass drank it. What I claim is this: we ain't got no
+proof. Fresno is stuck on Miss Blake, and he's a knocker."
+
+"Then let's _git_ some proof, and dam' quick."
+
+"_Si, Senores_," agreed Carara, who had been an interested
+listener.
+
+"I agree with you, but we got to be careful--"
+
+Willie grunted with disgust.
+
+"--we can't go at it like we was killin' snakes. Mr. Speed is a
+guest here."
+
+Again the little gun man expressed his opinion, this time in
+violet-tinted profanity, and the other cowboys joined in.
+
+"All the same he _is_ a guest, and no rough work goes. I'm
+in charge while Mr. Chapin is away, and I'm responsible."
+
+"Senor Bill," Carara ventured, "the fat vaquero, he is no guest.
+He is one of us."
+
+"That's right," seconded Willie. "He's told us all along that Mr.
+Speed was a Merc'ry-footed wonder, and if the young feller can't
+run he had ought to have told us."
+
+Mr. Cloudy showed his understanding of the discussion by nodding
+silently.
+
+"We'll put it up to him in the morning," said Stover.
+
+"If Mr. Speed cannot r-r-run, w'at you do, eh?" questioned the
+Mexican.
+
+Nobody answered. Still Bill seemed at a loss for words, Mr.
+Cloudy stared gloomily into space, and Willie ground his teeth.
+
+On the following morning Speed sought a secluded nook with Helen,
+but no sooner had he launched himself fairly upon the subject
+uppermost in his mind than he was disturbed by a delegation of
+cowboys, consisting of the original four who had waited upon him
+that first morning after his arrival. They came forward with
+grave and serious mein, requesting a moment's interview. It was
+plain there was something of more than ordinary importance upon
+their minds from the manner in which Stover spoke, but when Helen
+quickly volunteered to withdraw, Speed checked her.
+
+"Stay where you are; I have no secrets from you," said he. Then
+noting the troubled face of the foreman, quoted impatiently:
+
+"'You may fire when ready, Gridley.'"
+
+Still Bill shifted the lump in his cheek, and cleared his throat
+before beginning formally.
+
+"Mr. Speed, while we honor you a heap for your accomplishments,
+and while we believe in you as a man and a champeen, we kind of
+feel that it might make you stretch your legs some if you knew
+just exactly what this foot-race means to the Flying Heart
+outfit."
+
+"I assured you that the Centipede cook would be beaten," said the
+college man, stiffly.
+
+"Isn't Mr. Speed's word sufficient?" inquired the girl.
+
+Stover bowed. "It had sure ought to be, and we thank you for them
+new assurances. You see, our spiritual on-rest is due to the fact
+that Humpy Joe's get-away left us broke, and we banked on you to
+pull us even. That first experience strained our credulity to the
+bustin' point, and--well, in words of one syllable, we come from
+Joplin."
+
+"Missouri," said Willie.
+
+"My dear sirs, I can't _prove_ that you are going to win
+your wagers until the day of the race. However, if you are broke
+to start with, I don't see how you can expect to lose a great
+deal."
+
+"You ain't got the right angle on the affair," Stover explained.
+"Outside of the onbearable contumely of losin' twice to this
+Centipede outfit, which would be bad enough, we have drawn a
+month's wages in advance, and we have put it up. Moreover, I have
+bet my watch, which was presented to me by the officials of the
+Santa Fe for killin' a pair of road-agents when I was Depity
+Sheriff."
+
+Miss Blake uttered a little scream, and Speed regarded the lanky
+speaker with new interest. "It's a Waltham movement, solid gold
+case, eighteen jewels, and engraved with my name."
+
+"No wonder you prize it," said Wally.
+
+"I bet my saddle," informed Carara, in his slow, soft dialect.
+"Stamp' leather wit' silver filagree. It is more dear to me than
+--well--I love it ver' much, Senor!"
+
+"Seems like Willie has made the extreme sacrifice," Stover
+followed up. "While all our boys has gone the limit, Willie has
+topped 'em all: he's bet his gun."
+
+"Indeed! Is it a good weapon?"
+
+"It's been good to me," said the little man, dryly. "I took it
+off the quivering remains of a Sheriff in Dodge City, up to that
+time the best hip shot in Kansas."
+
+Speed felt a cold chill steal up his spine, while Miss Blake went
+pale and laid a trembling hand upon his arm.
+
+"You see it ain't intrinsic value so much as association and
+sentiment that leads to this interview," Stover continued. "It
+ain't no joke--we don't joke with the Centipede--and we've relied
+on you. The Mex here would do murder for that saddle," Carara
+nodded, and breathed something in his own tongue. "I have parted
+with my honor, and Willie is gamblin' just as high."
+
+"But I notice Mr.--Willie still has his revolver."
+
+"Sure I got it!" Willie laughed, abruptly. "And I don't give it
+up till we lose, neither. That's the understandin'." His voice
+was surprisingly harsh for one so high-pitched. He looked more
+like a professor than ever.
+
+"Willie has reasons for his caution which we respect," explained
+the spokesman.
+
+J. Wallingford Speed, face to face with these serious-minded
+gentlemen, began to reflect that this foot-race was not a thing
+to be taken too lightly.
+
+"I can't understand," he declared, with a touch of irritation,
+"why you should risk such priceless things upon a friendly
+encounter."
+
+"_Friendly!_" cried Willie and Stover in a tone that made
+their listeners gasp. "The Centipede and the Flying Heart is just
+as friendly as a pair of wild boars."
+
+"You see, it's a good thing we wised you up," added the latter.
+
+Carara muttered fiercely: "Senor, I works five year' for that
+saddle. I am a good gambler, _si, si!_ but I keel somebody
+biffore I lose it to the Centipede."
+
+"And is that Echo Phonograph worth all this?" inquired Helen.
+
+"We won that phonograph at risk of life and limb," said Willie,
+doggedly, "from the Centipede-"
+
+"--and twenty other outfits, Senor."
+
+"It's a trophy," declared the foreman, "and so long as it ain't
+where it belongs, the Flying Heart is in disgrace."
+
+"Even the 'Leven X treats us scornful!" cried the smallest of the
+trio angrily. "We're a joke to the whole State."
+
+"I know just how these gentlemen must feel," declared Miss Blake,
+tactfully, at which Stover bowed with grateful awkwardness.
+
+"And it's really a wonderful instrument," said he. "I don't
+reckon there's another one like it in the world, leastways in
+these parts. You'd ought to hear it--clear as a bell--"
+
+"And sweet," said Willie. "God! It's sure sweet!"
+
+"Why, we was a passel of savages on this ranch till we got it--no
+sentiment, no music, no nothin' in our souls--except profanity
+and thirst. Then everything changed." Stover nodded gravely. "We
+got gentle. That music mellered us up. We got so we was as full
+of brotherly love as a basket of kittens. Some of the boys
+commenced writin' home; Cloudy begin to pay his poker debts.
+You'd scarcely hear enough profanity to make things bearable. I
+tell you it was refined. It got so that when a man came steamin'
+in after a week's high life and low company in town, his wages
+gone, and his stummick burnin' like he'd swallered all his cigar-
+butts, it didn't make no difference if he found a herd of purple
+crocodiles in his blankets, or the bunk-house walls a-crawlin'
+with Gila monsters. Little things like that wouldn't phaze him!
+He'd switch on the Echo Phonograph and doze off like a babe in
+arms, for the tender notes of Madam-o-sella Melby in _The Holy
+City_ would soothe and comfort him like the caressin' hand of
+a young female woman."
+
+"I begin to feel your loss," said Speed, gravely. "Gentlemen, I
+can only assure you I shall do my best."
+
+"Then you won't take no chances?" inquired Willie, mildly.
+
+"You may rely upon me to take care of myself."
+
+"Thank you!" The delegation moved away.
+
+"What d'you think of him?" inquired Stover of the little man in
+glasses, when they were out of hearing.
+
+"I think he's all right," Willie hesitated, "only kind of crazy,
+like all Eastern boys. It don't seem credible that no sane man
+would dast to bluff after what we've said. He'd be flyin' in the
+face of Providence."
+
+But this comforting conclusion wavered again, when Berkeley
+Fresno, who had awaited their report, scoffed openly.
+
+"He can't run! If he could run he'd be running. I tell you, he
+can't run as fast as a sheep can walk."
+
+"Senor, you see those beautiful medal he have?" expostulated
+Carara.
+
+"Sure," agreed Willie. "His brisket was covered with 'em. He had
+one that hung down like a dewlap."
+
+"Phony!"
+
+"I've killed men for less," muttered the stoop-shouldered man.
+
+"Did you see his legs?" Fresno was bent upon convincing his
+hearers.
+
+"Couldn't help but see 'em in that runnin'-suit."
+
+"Nice and soft and white, weren't they?"
+
+"They didn't look like dark meat," Stover agreed, reluctantly.
+"But you can't go nothin' on the looks of a feller's legs."
+
+"Well, then, take his wind. A runner always has good lungs, but
+I'll bet if you snapped him on the chest with a rubber band he'd
+cough himself to death."
+
+"Mebbe he ain't in good shape yet."
+
+Fresno sneered. "No, and he'll never get into good condition with
+those girls hanging around him all the time. Don't you know that
+the worst thing in the world for an athlete is to talk to a
+woman?"
+
+"That's the worst thing in the world for anybody," said Willie,
+with cynicism. "But how can we stop it?"
+
+"Make him eat as well as sleep in his training-quarters; don't
+let him spend any time whatever in female company. Keep your eyes
+on him night and day."
+
+Willie spoke his mind deliberately. "I'm in favor of that. If
+this is another Humpy Joe affair I'm a-goin' to put one more
+notch in my gun-handle, and it looks like a cub bear had chawed
+it already."
+
+"There ain't but one thing to do," Stover announced, firmly.
+"We've got to put it up to Mr. Glass and learn the truth."
+
+"You'll find him in the bunk-house," directed Fresno. "I think
+I'll trail along and hear what he has to say."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+Glass had gone to the cowboys' sleeping-quarters in search of his
+employer, and was upon the point of leaving when the delegation
+filed in. He regarded them with careless contempt, and removed
+his clay pipe to exclaim, cheerfully:
+
+"B--zoo gents! Where's my protege?"
+
+"I don't know. Where did you have it last?"
+
+"I mean Speed, my trainin' partner. That's a French word."
+
+"Oh! We just left him."
+
+"Think I'll hunt him up."
+
+"Wait a minute." Willie came forward. "Let's talk."
+
+"All right. We'll visit. Let her go, professor."
+
+"You've been handlin' him for quite a spell, haven't you?"
+
+"Sure! It's my trainin' that put him where he is. Ask him if it
+ain't."
+
+"Then he's a good athlete, is he?"
+
+"Is he good? Huh!" Glass grunted, expressively.
+
+"How fast can he do a hundred yards?"
+
+Larry yawned as if this conversation bored him.
+
+"Oh--about--eight--seconds."
+
+At this amazing declaration Willie paused, as if to thoroughly
+digest it.
+
+"Eight seconds!" repeated the little man at length.
+
+"Sure! Depends on how he feels, of course."
+
+Berkeley Fresno, in the corner, snickered audibly, at which the
+trainer scowled at him.
+
+"Think he can't do it, eh? Well, he's there four ways from the
+ace."
+
+Seeing no evidence that his statement failed to carry conviction
+in other quarters at least, Glass went further. It was so easy to
+string these simple-minded people that he could not resist the
+temptation. "Didn't you never hear about the killin' he made at
+Saratoga?" he queried.
+
+Willie started, and his hand crept slowly backward along his
+belt. "Killin'! Is that his game?"
+
+"Now, get me right," explained the former speaker. "He breaks
+trainin', and goes up to Saratoga for a little rest. While he's
+there he wins eight thousand dollars playin' diabolo."
+
+"Playin' what?" queried Stover.
+
+"Diabolo! He backs himself, of course."
+
+Glass took an imaginary spool from his pocket, spun it by means
+of an imaginary string, then sent it aloft and pretended to catch
+it dexterously. The cowboys watched him with grave,
+uncomprehending eyes.
+
+"He starts with a case five and runs it up to eight thousand
+dollars, that's all."
+
+Stover uttered an exclamation of astonishment, whereupon the New-
+Yorker grew even bolder.
+
+"The next week he hops over to Bar Harbor and wins the Furturity
+Ping-pong stakes from scratch. That's worth twenty thousand if
+it's worth a lead nickel. Oh, I guess he's there, all right!" He
+searched out a match and relighted his pipe.
+
+"I suppose he's a great croquet-player too," observed Fresno,
+whose face was purple.
+
+"Sure!" Glass winked at him, glad to see that the Californian
+enjoyed this kind of sport.
+
+"We don't care nothin' about his skill at sleight-of-hand
+tricks," said the man in spectacles, seriously. "And we wouldn't
+hold his croquet habits agin him. Some men drink, some gamble,
+some do worse; every man has his weakness, and croquet may be
+his. What we want to know is this: can he win our phonograph?"
+
+"Surest thing you know!"
+
+"Then you vouch for him, do you?" Willie's eyes were bent upon
+the fat man with a look of searching gravity that warned Glass
+not to temporize.
+
+"With my life!" exclaimed the trainer.
+
+"You're on!" said the cowboy, with unexpected grimness.
+
+"What d'you mean?"
+
+But before the other could explain, Berkeley Fresno, who had sunk
+weakly into a chair at Larry's extravagant praise of his rival,
+afforded a diversion. The tenor had leaned back, convulsed with
+enjoyment when, losing his balance, he came to the floor with a
+crash. The sudden sound brought a terrifying result, for with a
+startled cry the undersized cow-man leaped as if touched by a
+living flame. Like a flash of light he whirled and poised on his
+toes, his long, evil-looking revolver drawn and cocked, his tense
+face vulturelike and fierce. His eyes glared through his
+spectacles, his livid features worked as if at the sound of his
+own death-call. His whole frame was tense; a galvanic current had
+transformed him. His weapon darted toward the spot whence the
+noise had come, and he would have fired blindly had not Stover
+yelled:
+
+"Don't shoot!"
+
+Willie paused, and the breath crept audibly into his lungs.
+
+"Who done that?" he asked, harshly.
+
+Still Bill brought his lanky frame up above the level of the
+table.
+
+"God 'lmighty! don't be so sudden, Willie!" he cried. "It was a
+accident."
+
+But the gun man seemed unconvinced. With cat-like tread he stole
+cautiously to the door, and stared out into the sunlight; then,
+seeing nobody in sight, he replaced his weapon in its resting-
+place and sighed with relief.
+
+"I thought it was the marshal from Waco," he said. "He'll never
+git me alive."
+
+Stover addressed himself to Fresno, who had gone pale, and was
+still prostrate where he had fallen.
+
+"Get up, Mr. Berkeley, but don't make no more moves like that
+behind a man's back. He most got you."
+
+Fresno arose in a daze and mopped his brow, murmuring, weakly,
+"I-I didn't mean to."
+
+Carara and Mr. Cloudy came out from cover whither they had fled
+at Willie's first movement. "I dreamed about that feller agin
+last night," apologized the little man. "I'm sort of nervous, and
+any sudden noise sets me off."
+
+As for Glass, that corpulent individual had disappeared as if
+into thin air; only a stir in one of the bunks betrayed his
+hiding-place. At the first sight of Willie's revolver he had
+dived for a refuge and was now flattened against the wall, a
+pillow pressed over his head to deaden the expected report.
+
+"Hey!" called the foreman, but Glass did not hear him.
+
+"Seems to be gun-shy," observed Willie, gently.
+
+Stover crossed to the bunk and laid a hand upon the occupant, at
+which a convulsion ran through the trainer's soft body, and it
+became as rigid as if locked in death. "Come out, Mr. Glass, it's
+all over."
+
+Larry muttered in a stifled voice, "Go 'way!"
+
+"It was a mistake."
+
+He opened his tight-shut lids, rolled over, and thrust forth a
+round, pallid face. He saw Stover laughing, and beheld the white
+teeth of Carara, the Mexican, who said:
+
+"Perhaps the Senor is sleepy!"
+
+Finding himself the object of what seemed to him a particularly
+senseless joke, the New-Yorker crept forth, his face suffused
+with anger. Strangely enough, he still retained the pipe in his
+fingers.
+
+"Say, are youse guys tryin' to kid me?" he demanded, roughly. Now
+that no firearm was in sight, he was master of himself again; and
+seeing the cause of his undignified alarm leaning against the
+table, he stepped toward him threateningly. "If you try that
+again, young feller, I'll chip you on the jaw, and give you a
+long, dreamy nap." He thrust a short, square fist under Willie's
+nose.
+
+That scholarly gentleman straightened up, and edged his way to
+one side, Glass following aggressively.
+
+"You're a husky, ain't you?" said the little man, squinting up at
+the red face above him. "Am I?" Glass snorted. "Take a good
+look!" With deliberate menace he bumped violently into the other.
+It was with difficulty he could restrain himself from crushing
+him.
+
+Stover gasped and retreated, while Carara crossed himself, then
+sidled back of a bunk. Mr. Cloudy stepped silently out through
+the open door and held his thumbs.
+
+"You start to kid me and I'll wallop you--"
+
+"_One moment!_" Willie was transfigured suddenly. An instant
+since he had been a stoop-shouldered, short-sighted,
+insignificant person, more gentle mannered than a child, but in a
+flash he became a palpitating fury: an evil atom surcharged with
+such terrific venom that his antagonist drew back involuntarily.
+"Don't you make no threat'nin' moves in my direction, or you'll
+go East in an ice-bath!" He was panting as if the effort to hold
+himself in leash was almost more than he could stand.
+
+"G'wan!" said Glass, thickly.
+
+"You're deluded with the idea that the Constitution made all men
+equal, but it didn't; it was Mr. Colt." With a movement quicker
+than light the speaker drew his gun for the second time, and
+buried half the barrel in the New-Yorker's ribs.
+
+"_Look out!_" Glass barked the words, and undertook to
+deflect the weapon with his hand.
+
+"Let it alone or it'll go off!"
+
+Glass dropped his hand as if it had been burned, and stared down
+his bulging front with horrified, fascinated eyes.
+
+"Now, listen. We've stood for you as long as we can. You've made
+your talk and got away with it, but from now on you're working
+for us. We've framed a foot-race, and put up our _panga_
+because you said you had a champeen. Now, we ain't sayin' you
+lied--'cause if we thought you had, I'd gut-shoot you here, now."
+Willie paused, while Glass licked his lips and undertook to frame
+a reply. The black muzzle of the weapon hovering near his heart,
+however, stupefied him. Mechanically he thrust the stem of his
+pipe between his lips while Willie continued to glare at him
+balefully. "You're boss is a guest, but you ain't. We can talk
+plain to you."
+
+"Y--yes, of course."
+
+"You said just now you'd answer for him with your life. Well, we
+aim to make you! We ain't a-goin' to lose this foot-race under no
+circumstances whatever, so we give you complete authority over
+the body, health, and speed of Mr. Speed. It's up to you to make
+him beat that cook."
+
+"S-s-suppose he gets sick or sprains his ankle?" Glass undertook
+to move his body from in front of the weapon, but it followed him
+as if magnetized.
+
+"There ain't a-goin' to be no accidents or excuses. It's pay or
+play, money at the tape. You're his trainer, and it's your fault
+if he ain't fit when he toes the mark. Understand?"
+
+Willie lowered the muzzle of his weapon, and fired between the
+legs of Glass, who leaped into the air with all the grace of a
+gazelle. It was due to no conscious action on his part that the
+trainer leaped; his muscles were stimulated spasmodically, and
+propelled him from the floor. At the same time his will was so
+utterly paralyzed that he had no control over his movements; he
+did not even hear the yell that burst from his throat as his
+lungs contracted; he merely knew that he was in the supremest
+peril, and that flight was futile. Therefore he undertook to
+steady himself. Every tissue of his body seemed to creep and
+crawl. The flesh inside his legs was quivering, the close-cropped
+hair of his thick neck rose and prickled, and his capacious
+abdomen throbbed and pulsated like a huge bowl of jelly. He laid
+his hands upon it to still the disturbance. Then he became
+conscious that he had bitten his pipe-stem in two and swallowed
+the end. He felt it sticking in his throat.
+
+"Did you hear what I said?" demanded Willie, in a voice that
+sounded like the sawing of a meat bone.
+
+Glass opened his mouth, and when no sound issued, nodded.
+
+"And you understand?"
+
+Again the trainer bobbed his head. The pipe-stem had cut off all
+power of speech, and he knew himself dumb for life.
+
+"Then I guess that's all. It's up to you." Willie replaced his
+gun, and the fat man threatened to fall. "Come on, boys!" The
+cowboys filed out silently, but on the threshold Willie paused
+and darted a venomous glance at his enemy. "Don't forget what I
+said about Mr. Colt and the equality of man."
+
+"Yes, sir!--yes, ma'am!" ejaculated the frightened trainer,
+nervously. When they were gone he collapsed.
+
+"They are rather severe, aren't they?" ventured Fresno.
+
+"Severe!" cried the unhappy man. "Why, Speed can't--" He was
+about to explain everything when the memory of Willie's words
+smote him like a blow. That fiend had threatened to kill him,
+Lawrence Glass, without preliminary if it became evident that a
+fraud had been practiced. Manifestly this was no place for
+hysterical confidences. Larry's mouth closed like a trap, while
+the Californian watched him intently. At length he did speak, but
+in a strangely softened tone, and at utter variance with his
+custom.
+
+"Say, Mr. Fresno! Which direction is New York?"
+
+"That way." Fresno pointed to the east, and the other man stared
+longingly out through the bunk-house window.
+
+"It's quite a walk, ain't it?"
+
+"Walk?" Berkeley laughed. "It's two or three thousand miles!"
+Glass sighed heavily. "Why do you ask?"
+
+"Oh, nothin'. Jest gettin' homesick." He calmed himself with an
+effort, entered the gymnasium as if in search of something, and
+then set forth to find Speed.
+
+That ecstatic young gentleman wrenched his gaze away from the
+blue eyes of Miss Blake to see his trainer signalling him from
+afar.
+
+"What is it, Lawrence?"
+
+"Got to see you."
+
+"Presently."
+
+"Nix! I got to see you _now!_" Glass's ruddy face was
+blotched, and he seemed to rest in the grip of some blighting
+malady. Beneath his arm he carried a tight-rolled bundle. Sensing
+something important back of this unusual demeanor, Speed excused
+himself and followed Larry, who did not trust to speech until
+they were alone in the gymnasium with the doors closed. Then he
+unrolled the bundle he carried, spread it upon the floor, and
+stepped into its exact centre.
+
+"Are you standing on my prayer-rug?" demanded his companion,
+angrily.
+
+"I am! And from this on I'm goin' to make it work itself to
+death. She said a feller couldn't get hurt if he stood on it and
+said 'Allah.' Well, I'm goin' to wear it out."
+
+"What's wrong?"
+
+"Do you know what's goin' to happen to me if Covington don't get
+here and beat this cook?"
+
+"Happen to you?"
+
+"Yes, me! These outlaws have put it up to me to win this bet for
+them."
+
+"Well, Covington can beat anybody."
+
+"But Covington isn't here yet."
+
+"Not yet, but--" The young man smiled. "You're not frightened,
+are you?"
+
+"Scared to death, that's all," acknowledged the other. Then when
+his employer laughed openly, he broke out at a white-heat. "Joke,
+eh? Well, you'd better have a good laugh while you can, because
+Humpy Joe's finish will be a ten-course dinner to what you'll get
+if Covington misses his train."
+
+"How easily frightened you are!"
+
+"Yes? Well, any time people start shooting shots I'm too big for
+this earth. The hole in a gun looks as big as a gas-tank to me."
+
+"But nobody is going to shoot you!" exclaimed the mystified
+college man.
+
+"They ain't, hey? I missed the Golden Stairs by a lip not half an
+hour ago. I got a pipe-stem crossways in my gullet now, and it
+tickles." He coughed loudly, then shook his head. "No use; it
+won't come up." With feverish intensity he told of his narrow
+escape from destruction, the memory bringing a sweat of agony to
+his brow. "And the worst of it is," he concluded, "I'm 'marked'
+with guns. I've always been that way."
+
+"Tut! tut! Don't alarm yourself. If Covington shouldn't come, the
+race will be declared off."
+
+"No chance," announced the trainer, with utter conviction. "These
+thugs have made it pay or play, and the bets are down."
+
+"You know I can't run."
+
+"If he don't come, you'll _have_ to!"
+
+"Absurd! I shall be indisposed."
+
+"If you mean you'll get sick, or sprain an ankle, or break a leg,
+or kill yourself, guess again. I'm responsible for you now.
+Something may go wrong with me, that pipe-stem is liable to gimme
+a cancer, but nothin' is goin' to happen to you. My only chance
+to make a live of it is to cough up that clay, and get some one
+to outrun this cook. You're the only chance I've got, if Culver
+don't show, and the first law of nature ain't never been
+repealed."
+
+"Self-protection, eh?"
+
+"Exactly." Glass coughed thrice without result, stepped off the
+prayerrug, rolled it up tightly; then, hugging it beneath his
+arm, went on: "That four-eyed guy slipped me a whole lot of feed-
+box information. Why, he's a killer, Wally! And he's got a cash-
+register to tally his dead."
+
+"Notches on his gun-handle, I suppose?"
+
+"So many that it looks like his wife had used it to hang pictures
+with. I tell you, he's the most deceitful rummy I ever seen.
+What's more, he's got the homicide habit, and the habit has got
+its eye on _me_." Glass was in deadly earnest, and his alarm
+contrasted so strongly with his former contemptuous attitude
+toward the cowboys that Speed was constrained to laugh again.
+
+"It's the most amusing thing I ever heard of."
+
+"Yes," said the trainer, with elaborate sarcasm, "it would be
+awful funny if it wasn't on the square." He moistened his lip
+nervously.
+
+"You alarm yourself unnecessarily. We'll hear from Culver soon,
+either by wire or in person. He's never failed me yet. But if I
+were you, Larry, I'd leave that Mexican girl alone."
+
+"Mary?"
+
+"Yes. Mariedetta. Now, there's something to be afraid of. If
+these cowboys are in love with her and have their eyes on you--"
+
+"Oh, Willie ain't her steady, and he's the only one I'm leary of.
+Mary's beau is that Egyptian with the funny clothes, and I can
+lick any guy with tight pants."
+
+A gentle knock sounded at the door, at which Speed called:
+
+"Come in!"
+
+Senor Aurelio Maria Carara entered. He was smoking his customary
+corn-husk cigarette, but his dark eyes were grave and his silken
+mustachios were pointed to the fineness of a bristle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+"_Buenos dias, Senor._" Carara bowed politely to Speed.
+
+"Good-morning again," said Wally.
+
+Turning to the trainer, Carara eyed him from top to toe, removed
+his cigarette, and flipped the ashes daintily from it; then,
+smiling disdainfully, said:
+
+"_Buenos dias, Senor Fat!_"
+
+Glass started. "You talkin' to me?"
+
+"Yes." Carara leaned languidly against the wall, took a match
+from his pocket, and dextrously struck it between the nails of
+his thumb and finger. He breathed his lungs full of smoke and
+exhaled it through his nose. "I would have spik to you biffore,
+but the Senor Fat is"--he shrugged his shoulders--"frighten' so
+bad he will not understan'. So--I come back."
+
+"Who's scared?" said Glass, gruffly.
+
+Carara turned his palm outward, in gentle apology.
+
+"You been talk' a gret deal to my Senorita--to Mariedetta, eh?"
+
+"Oh, the Cuban Queen!" Glass winked openly at Speed. "Sure! I
+slip her a laugh now and then."
+
+"She is not _Cubana_, she is _Mexicana_," said Carara,
+politely.
+
+"Well, what d'you think of that! I thought she was a Cuban."
+Glass began to chuckle.
+
+"Senor Fat," broke in the Mexican, sharply, while Larry winced at
+the distasteful appellation, "she is _my_ Senorita!"
+
+"Is she? Well, I can't help it if she falls for me." The speaker
+cast an appreciative glance at his employer. "And you can cut out
+that 'Senor Fat,' because it don't go--" Then he gasped, for
+Carara slowly drew from inside his shirt a long, thin-bladed
+knife bearing marks of recent grinding, and his black eyes
+snapped. His face had become suddenly convulsed, while his voice
+rang with the tone of chilled metal. Glass retreated a step, a
+shudder ran through him, and his eyes riveted themselves upon the
+weapon with horrified intensity.
+
+"Listen, Pig! If you spik to her again, I will cut you." The gaze
+of the Mexican pierced his victim. "I will not keel you, I will
+just--cut you!"
+
+Speed, who had sat in open-mouthed amazement during the scene,
+pinched himself. Like Larry, he could not remove his gaze from
+the swarthy man. He pulled himself together with an effort,
+however, undertaking to divert the present trend of the
+conversation.
+
+"W--where will you cut him?" he asked, pleasantly, more to make
+conversation than from any lingering question as to the precise
+location.
+
+"Here." Carara turned the blade against himself, and traced a
+cross upon his front, whereupon the trainer gurgled and laid
+protecting hands upon his protruding abdomen. "You spik Spanish?"
+"No." Glass shook his head.
+
+"But you understan' w'at I try to say?"
+
+"Yes--oh yes--I'm hep all right."
+
+"And the Senor Fat will r-r-re-member?"
+
+"Sure!" Glass sighed miserably, and tearing his eyes away from
+the glittering blade, rolled them toward his employer. "I don't
+want her! Mr. Speed knows I don't want her!"
+
+Carara bowed. "And the Fat Senor will not spik wit' her again?"
+
+"No!"
+
+"_Gracias, Senor!_ I thank you!"
+
+"You're welcome!" agreed the New Yorker, with repressed feeling.
+
+"_Adios! Adios,_ Senor Speed!"
+
+"Good-bye!" exclaimed the two in chorus.
+
+Carara returned the knife to its hiding-place, swept the floor
+gracefully with his sombrero, then placing the spangled head-
+piece at an exact angle upon his raven locks, lounged out, his
+silver spurs tinkling in the silence.
+
+Glass took a deep breath.
+
+"He doesn't mean to kill you--just cut you," said Speed. "I got
+it," declared the other, fervently. Again he laid repressing
+hands upon his bulging front and looked down at it tenderly.
+"They've all got it in for my pad, haven't they?"
+
+"I told you to keep away from that girl."
+
+"Humph!" Glass spoke with soulful conviction. "Take it from me,
+Bo, I'll walk around her as if she was a lake. Who'd ever think
+that chorus-man was a killer?"
+
+"Surely you don't care for her seriously?"
+
+"Not now. I--I love my Cuban, but"--he quivered apprehensively--
+"I'll bet that rummy packs a 'shiv' in every pocket."
+
+From outside the bunk-house came the low, musical notes of a
+quail, and Glass puckered his lips to answer, then grew pale.
+"That's her," he declared, in a panic. "I've got a date with
+her."
+
+"Are you going to keep it?"
+
+"Not for a nose-bag full of gold nuggets! Take a look, Wally, and
+see what she's doing."
+
+Speed did as directed. "She's waiting."
+
+"Let her wait," breathed the trainer.
+
+"Here comes Stover and Willie."
+
+"More bad news." Glass unrolled his prayer-rug, and stepped upon
+it hastily. "Say, what's that word? Quick! You know! The
+password. Quick!"
+
+"Allah!"
+
+"That's her!" The fat man began to mumble thickly. It was plain
+that his spirit was utterly broken.
+
+But this call was prompted purely by solicitude, it seemed.
+Willie had little to say, and Stover, ignoring all mention of the
+earlier encounter he had witnessed, exclaimed:
+
+"There's been some queer goin's-on 'round here, Mr. Speed. Have
+you noticed 'em?"
+
+"No. What sort?"
+
+"Well, the other mornin' I discovered some tracks through one of
+Miss Jean's flower-beds."
+
+"Tracks!"
+
+"Sure! Strange tracks. Man's tracks."
+
+"What does that signify?"
+
+"We ain't altogether certain. Carara says he seen a stranger
+hangin' around night before last, and jest now we found where a
+hoss had been picketed out in the ravine. Looks like he'd stood
+there more'n once."
+
+"Why, this is decidedly mysterious."
+
+"We figured we'd ought to tell you."
+
+"It has nothing to do with me."
+
+"I ain't sure. It looks to us like it's somebody from the
+Centipede. They're equal to any devilment."
+
+Speed showed an utter lack of comprehension, so Willie explained.
+
+"Understand, we've made this race pay or play. Mebbe they aim to
+cripple you."
+
+"Me!" Speed started. "Good Heavens!"
+
+"Oh, they'd do it quick enough! I wouldn't put it past 'em to
+drop a .45 through your winder if it could be done safe."
+
+"Shoot me, you mean?"
+
+"Allah!" said Glass, devoutly from his corner.
+
+Stover and Willie nodded. "If I was you, I'd keep the lamp
+between me and the winder every night."
+
+"Why, this is abominable!" exclaimed the young college man,
+stiffly. "I--I can't stand for this, it's getting too serious."
+
+"There ain't nothin' to fear," said Willie, soothingly.
+"Remember, I told you at the start that we'd see there wasn't no
+crooked work done. Well, I'm goin' to ride herd on you, constant,
+Mr. Speed." He smiled in a manner to reassure. "If there's any
+shootin' comes off, I'll be in on it."
+
+"S--say, what's to prevent us being murdered when we're out for a
+run?" queried Glass.
+
+"Me!" declared the little man. "I'll saddle my bronc' an' lope
+along with you. We'll keep to the open country."
+
+Instantly Speed saw the direful consequences of such a procedure,
+and summoned his courage to say: "No. It's very kind of you, but
+I shall give up training."
+
+"_What!_"
+
+"I mean training on the road. I--I'll run indoors."
+
+"Not a bit like it," declared Stover. "You'll get your daily run
+if we have to lay off all the punchers on the place and put 'em
+on as a body-guard."
+
+"But I don't want a body-guard!" cried the athlete desperately.
+
+"We can't let you get hurt. You're worth too much to us."
+
+"Larry and I will take a chance."
+
+"Not for mine!" firmly declared the trainer. "I don't need no
+mineral in my system. I'm for the house."
+
+"Then I shall run alone."
+
+"You're game," said Willie admiringly, and his auditor breathed
+easier, "but we can't allow it."
+
+"I--I'd rather risk my life than put you to so much trouble."
+
+"It's only a pleasure."
+
+"Nevertheless, I can't allow it. I'll run alone, if they kill me
+for it."
+
+"Oh, they won't try to _kill_ you. They'll probably shoot
+you in the legs. That's just as good, and it's a heap easier to
+get away with."
+
+Speed felt his knee-caps twitching.
+
+"I've got it!" said he at last. "I'll run at night!"
+
+Stover hesitated thoughtfully. "I don't reckon you could do
+yourself justice that-away, but you might do your trainin' at
+daylight. The Centipede goes to work the same time we do, and the
+chances is your assassin won't miss his breakfast."
+
+"Good! I--I'll do that!"
+
+"I sure admire your courage, but if you see anything suspicious,
+let us know. We'll git 'em," said Willie.
+
+"Thank you."
+
+The two men went out, whereupon Glass chattered:
+
+"W--what did I tell you? It's worse'n suicide to stick around
+this farm. I'm going to blow."
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+"New York. Let's beat it!"
+
+"Never!" exclaimed the college man, stubbornly. We'll hear from
+Covington before long. Besides, I can't leave until I get some
+money from home."
+
+"Let's walk."
+
+"Don't be a fool!"
+
+"Then I've got to have a drink." Glass started for the living-
+quarters, but at the door ducked quickly out of sight.
+
+"She's there!" he whispered tragically. "She seen me, too!"
+
+Mariedetta was squatting in the shade opposite, her eyes fixed
+stolidly upon the training-quarters.
+
+"Then you've got to lay low till she gives up," declared Wally.
+"We're in trouble enough as it is."
+
+For nearly an hour the partners discussed the situation while the
+Mexican maid retained her position; then, when Glass was on the
+verge of making a desperate sally, Cloudy entered silently.
+Although this had been an unhappy morning for the trainer, here
+at least was one person of whom he had no fear, and his natural
+optimism being again to the fore, he greeted the Indian lightly.
+
+"Well, how's the weather, Cloudy?"
+
+"Mr. Cloudy to you," said the other. Both Glass and his protege
+stared. It was the first word the Indian had uttered since their
+arrival. Lawrence winked at his companion.
+
+"All right, if you like it better. How's the weather, Mister
+Cloudy?" He snickered at his own joke, whereupon the aborigine
+turned upon him slowly, and said, in perfect English:
+
+"Your humor is misplaced with me. Don't forget, Mr. Glass, that
+the one Yale football team you trained, I dropped a goal on from
+the forty-five-yard line."
+
+Glass allowed his mouth to open in amazement. The day was replete
+with surprises.
+
+"'96!" he said, while the light of understanding came over him.
+"You're Cloudy-but-the-Sun-Shines?"
+
+"Yes--Carlisle." Cloudy threw back his head, and pointed with
+dignity to the flag of his Alma Mater hanging upon the wall.
+
+"By Jove, I remember that!" exclaimed Speed.
+
+"So will Yale so long as she lives," predicted the Indian,
+grimly. "You crippled me in the second half"--he stirred his
+withered leg--"but I dropped it on you; and--I have not
+forgotten." He ground the last sentence between his teeth.
+
+"See here, Bo--Mr. Cloudy. You don't blame us for that?" Cloudy
+grunted, and threw a yellow envelope on the floor at Speed's
+feet. "There is something for you," said he, while his lips
+curled. He turned, and limped silently to the door.
+
+"And I tried to kid him!" breathed Glass with disgust, when the
+visitor had gone. "I ain't been in right since Garfield was
+shot."
+
+"It's a telegram from Covington!" cried Speed, tearing open the
+message. "At last!"
+
+"Thank the Lord!" Glass started forward eagerly. "When'll he be
+here? Quick!" Then he paused. J. Wallingford Speed had gone
+deathly pale, and was reeling slightly. "What's wrong?"
+
+The college man made uncertainly for his bed, murmuring
+incoherently:
+
+"I--I'm sick! I'm sick, Larry!" He fell limply at full length,
+and groaned, "Call the race off!"
+
+Glass snatched the missive from his employer's nerveless fingers,
+and read, with bulging eyes, as follows:
+
+"J. WALLINGFORD SPEED, _Flying Heart Ranch, Kidder, New
+Mexico:_
+
+"Don't tip off. Am in jail Omaha. Looks like ten days.
+
+"CULVER COVINGTON."
+
+The trainer uttered a cry like that of a wounded animal.
+
+"Call it off, Larry," moaned the Hope of the Flying Heart. "I've
+been poisoned!"
+
+"Poisoned, eh?" said the fat man, tremulously. "Poisoned!
+_Nix!_ Not with me!" He walked firmly across the room, flung
+back the lid of Speed's athletic trunk, and began to paw through
+it feverishly. One after another he selected three heavy
+sweaters, then laid strong hands upon his protege and jerked him
+to his feet. "Sick, eh? Here, get into these!"
+
+"What do you mean, Lawrence?" inquired his victim.
+
+"If you get sick, I die." Glass opened the first sweater, and
+half-smothered his protege with it. "Hurry up! You're going into
+training!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+That was a terrible hour for J. Wallingford Speed. As for Larry,
+once he had grasped the full significance of the telegram, he
+became a different person. Some fierce electric charge wrought a
+chemical alteration in his every fibre; he became a domineering,
+iron-willed autocrat, obsessed by the one idea of his own
+preservation, and not hesitating to use physical force when force
+became necessary to lessen his peril.
+
+Repeatedly Speed folded his arms over his stomach, rocked in the
+throes of anguish, and wailed that he was perishing of cramps;
+the trainer only snorted with derision. When he refused to don
+the clothes selected for him, Glass fell upon him like a raging
+grizzly.
+
+"You won't, eh? We'll see!" Then Speed took refuge in anger, but
+the other cried:
+
+"Never mind the hysterics, Bo. You're going to run off some
+blubber to-day."
+
+"But I have _to go riding_!"
+
+"Not a chance!"
+
+"I tell you I'll run when I come back," maintained the youth,
+almost tearfully beseeching. "They're waiting for me."
+
+"Let 'em gallop--you can run alongside."
+
+"With all these sweaters? I'd have a sunstroke."
+
+"It's the best thing for you. I never thought of that."
+
+As Glass forced his protege toward the house, the other young
+people appeared clad for their excursion; their horses were
+tethered to the porch. And it was an ideal day for a ride--warm,
+bright, and inviting. Over to the northward the hills,
+mysteriously purple, invited exploration; to the south and east
+the golden prairie undulated gently into a hazy realm of infinite
+possibilities; the animals themselves turned friendly eyes upon
+their riders, champing and whinnying as if eager to bear them out
+into the distances.
+
+"We are ready!" called Jean gayly.
+
+"What in the world--" Helen paused at sight of the swathed
+figure. "Are you cold, Mr. Speed?"
+
+"Climb on your horses and get a start," panted the burly trainer;
+"he's goin' to race you ten miles."
+
+"I'm going to do nothing of the sort. I'm going to--"
+
+But Glass jerked him violently, crying:
+
+"And no talkin' to gals, neither. You're trainin'. Now, get a
+move!"
+
+Speed halted stubbornly.
+
+"Hit her up, Wally! G'wan, now--faster! No loafing, Bo, or I'll
+wallop you!" Nor did he cease until they both paused from
+exhaustion. Even then he would not allow his charge to do more
+than regain his breath before urging him onward.
+
+"See here," Wally stormed at last, "what's the use? I can't--"
+
+"What's the use? That's the use!" Glass pointed to the north,
+where a lone horseman was watching them from a knoll. "D'you know
+who that is?"
+
+The rider was small and stoop-shouldered.
+
+"Willie!"
+
+"That's who."
+
+"He's following us!"
+
+With knees trembling beneath him Speed jogged feebly on down the
+road, Glass puffing at his heels.
+
+When, after covering five miles, they finally returned to the
+Flying Heart, it was with difficulty that they could drag one
+foot after another. Wally Speed was drenched with perspiration,
+and Glass resembled nothing so much as a steaming pudding;
+rivulets of sweat ran down his neck, his face was purple, his
+lips swollen.
+
+"Y-you'll have--to run alone--this afternoon," panted the
+tormentor.
+
+"This afternoon? Haven't I run enough for--one day?" the victim
+pleaded. "Glass, old man, I--I'm all in, I tell you; I'm ready to
+die."
+
+"Got to--fry off some more--leaf-lard," declared the trainer with
+vulgarity. He lumbered into the cook-house, radiating heat waves,
+puffing like a traction-engine, while his companion staggered to
+the gymnasium, and sank into a chair. A moment later he appeared
+with two bottles of beer, one glued to his lips. Both were
+evidently ice cold, judging from the fog that covered them.
+
+Speed rose with a cry.
+
+"Gee! That looks good!"
+
+But the other, thrusting him aside without removing the neck of
+the bottle from his lips, gurgled:
+
+"No booze, Wally! You're trainin'!"
+
+"But I'm thirsty!" shouted the athlete, laying hands upon the
+full bottle, and trying to wrench it free.
+
+"Have a little sense. If you're thirsty, hit the sink." Glass
+still maintained his hold, mumbling indistinctly: "Water's the
+worst thing in the world. Wait! I'll get you some."
+
+He stepped into the bunk-room, to return an instant later with a
+cup half full. "Rinse out your mouth, and don't swallow it all."
+
+"All! There isn't that much. Ugh! It's lukewarm. I want a bucket
+of ice-water--_ice-water_!"
+
+"Nothing doing! I won't stand to have your epictetus chilled."
+
+"My what?"
+
+"Never mind now. Off with them clothes, and get under that
+shower. I guess it'll feel pretty good to-day."
+
+Speed obeyed instructions sullenly, while his trainer, reclining
+in the cosey-corner, uncorked the second bottle. From behind the
+blanket curtains where the barrel stood, the former demanded:
+
+"What did you mean by saying I'd have to run again this
+afternoon?"
+
+"Starts!" said Glass, shortly.
+
+"Starts?"
+
+"Fast work. We been loafing so far; you got to get some ginger."
+
+"Rats! What's the use?"
+
+"No use at all. You couldn't outrun a steam-roller, but if you
+won't duck out, I've got to do my best. I'd as lief die of a
+gunshot-wound as starve to death in the desert."
+
+"Do you suppose we _could_ run away?"
+
+"Could we!" Glass propped himself eagerly upon one elbow. "Leave
+it to me."
+
+"No!" Wally resumed rubbing himself down. "I can't leave without
+looking like a quitter. Fresno would get her sure."
+
+"What's the difference if you're astraddle of a cloud with a gold
+guitar in your lap?"
+
+"Oh, they won't _kill_ us."
+
+"I tell you these cow-persons is desp'rate. If you stay here and
+run that race next Saturday, she'll tiptoe up on Sunday and put a
+rose in your hand, sure. I can see her now, all in black. Take it
+from me, Wally, we ain't goin' to have no luck in this thing."
+
+"My dear fellow, the simplest way out of the difficulty is for me
+to injure myself--"
+
+"Here!" Glass hopped to his feet and dove through the blankets.
+"None of that! Have a little regard for me. If you go lame it's
+my curtain."
+
+All that day the trainer stayed close to his charge, never
+allowing him out of his sight, and when, late in the afternoon,
+Speed rebelled at the espionage, Glass merely shrugged his fat
+shoulders. "But I want to be alone--with _her_. Can't you
+see?"
+
+"I can, but I won't. Go as far as you like. I'll close my eyes."
+
+"Or _I'll_ close them for you!" The lad scowled; his
+companion laughed mirthlessly.
+
+"Don't start nothin' like that--I'd ruin you. Gals is bad for a
+man in trainin' anyhow."
+
+"I suppose I'm not to see her--"
+
+"You can _see_ her, but I want to hear what you say to her.
+No emotion till after this race, Wally."
+
+"You're an idiot! This whole affair is preposterous--ridiculous."
+
+"And yet it don't make us laugh, does it?" Glass mocked.
+
+"If these cowboys make me run that race, they'll be sorry--mark
+my words, they'll be sorry."
+
+Speed lighted a cigarette and inhaled deeply, but only once. The
+other lunged at him with a cry and snatched it. "Give me that
+cigarette!"
+
+"I've had enough of this foolishness," Wally stormed. "You are
+discharged!"
+
+"I wish I was."
+
+"You are!"
+
+"_Not!_"
+
+"I say you are fired!" Glass stared at him. "Oh, I mean it! I
+won't be bullied."
+
+"Very well." Glass rose ponderously. "I'll wise up that queen of
+yours, Mr. Speed."
+
+"You aren't going to talk to Miss Blake? Wait!" Speed wilted
+miserably. "She mustn't know. I--I hire you over again."
+
+"Suit yourself."
+
+"You see, don't you? My love for Helen is the only serious thing
+I ever experienced," said the boy. "I--can't lose her. You've got
+to help me out."
+
+And so it was agreed.
+
+That evening, when the clock struck nine, J. Wallingford Speed
+was ready and willing to drag himself off to bed, in spite of the
+knowledge that Fresno was waiting to take his place in the
+hammock. He was racked by a thousand pains, his muscles were
+sore, his back lame. He was consumed by a thirst which Glass
+stoutly refused to let him quench, and possessed by a fearful
+longing for a smoke. When he dozed off, regardless of the snores
+from the bunk-house adjoining, Berkeley Fresno's musical tenor
+was sounding in his ears. And Helen Blake was vaguely surprised.
+For the first time in their acquaintance Mr. Speed had yawned
+openly in her presence, and she wondered if he were tiring of
+her.
+
+It seemed to Speed that he had barely closed his eyes when he
+felt a rough hand shaking him, and heard his trainer's voice
+calling, in a half-whisper: "Come on, Cull! Get up!"
+
+When he turned over it was only to be shaken into complete
+wakefulness.
+
+"Hurry up, it's daylight!"
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Come, now, you got to run five miles before breakfast!"
+
+Speed sat up with a groan. "If I run five miles," he said, "I
+won't want any breakfast," and laid himself down again
+gratefully--he was very sore--whereat his companion fairly
+dragged him out of bed. As yet the room was black, although the
+windows were grayed by the first faint streaks of dawn. From the
+adjoining room came a chorus of distress: snores of every size,
+volume, and degree of intensity, from the last harrowing gasp of
+strangulation to the bold trumpetings of a bull moose. There were
+long drawn sighs, groans of torture, rumbling blasts. Speed
+shuddered.
+
+"They sound like a troop of trained sea-lions," said he.
+
+"Don't wake 'em up. Here!" Glass yawned widely, and tossed a
+bundle of sweaters at his companion.
+
+"Ugh! These clothes are all wet and cold, and--it feels like
+blood!"
+
+"Nothin' but the mornin' dew."
+
+"It's perspiration."
+
+"Well, a little sweat won't hurt you."
+
+"Nasty word." Speed yawned in turn. "Perspiration! I can't wear
+wet clothes," and would have crept back into his bed.
+
+This time Glass deposited him upon a stool beside the table, and
+then lighted a candle, by the sickly glare of which he selected a
+pair of running-shoes.
+
+"Why didn't you leave me alone?" grumbled the younger man. "The
+only pleasure I get is in sleep--I forget things then."
+
+"Yes," retorted the former, sarcastically, "and you also seem to
+forget that these are our last days among the living. Saturday
+the big thing comes off."
+
+"Forget! I dreamed about it!" The boy sighed heavily. It was the
+hour in which hope reaches its lowest ebb and vitality is
+weakest. He was very cold and very miserable.
+
+"You ain't got no edge on me," the other acknowledged,
+mournfully. "I'm too young to die, and that's a bet."
+
+Suddenly the pandemonium in the bunk-house was pierced by the
+brazen jangle of an alarm-clock, whereat a sleepy voice cried:
+
+"Cloudy, kill that damn clock!"
+
+The Indian uttered some indistinguishable epithet, and the next
+instant there came a crash as the offending timepiece was hurled
+violently against the wall. In silence Glass shoved his unsteady
+victim ahead of him out into the dawn. In the east the sun was
+rising amid a riotous splendor. At any other time, under any
+other conditions, Speed could not have restrained his admiration,
+for the whole world was a glorious sparkling panoply of color.
+The tumbled masses of the hills were blazing at their crests, the
+valleys dark and cool. In the east the limb of the sun was just
+rearing itself, the air was heady with the scent of growing
+things, and so clear that the distances were magically shortened;
+a certain wild, intoxicating exuberance surcharged the out-of-
+doors. But to the stiff and wearied Eastern lad it was all
+cruelly mocking. When he halted listlessly to view its beauties
+he was goaded forward, ever forward, faster and faster, until
+finally, amid protests and sighs and complaining joints, he broke
+into a heavy, flat-footed jog-trot that jolted the artistic sense
+entirely out of him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+It was usually a procedure not alone of difficulty but of
+diplomacy as well, to rout out the ranch-hands of the Flying
+Heart without engendering hostile relations that might bear fruit
+during the day. This morning Still Bill Stover had more than his
+customary share of trouble, for they seemed pessimistic.
+
+Carara, for instance, breathed a Spanish oath as he combed his
+hair, and when the foreman inquired the reason, replied:
+
+"I don' sleep good. I been t'ink mebbe I lose my saddle on this
+footrace."
+
+Cloudy, whose toilet was much less intricate, grunted from the
+shadows:
+
+"I thought I heard that phonograph all night."
+
+"It was the Natif Son singin' to his gal," explained one of the
+hands. "He's gettin' on my nerves, too. If he wasn't a friend of
+the boss, I'd sure take a surcingle and abate him considerable."
+
+"Vat you t'ank? I dream' Mr. Speed is ron avay an' broke his
+leg," volunteered Murphy, the Swede, whose name New Mexico had
+shortened from Bjorth Kjelliser.
+
+"Run away?"
+
+"Ya-as! I dream' he's out for little ron ven piece of noosepaper
+blow up in his face an' mak' him ron avay, yust same as horse. He
+snort an' yump, an' ron till he step in prairie-dog hole and
+broke his leg."
+
+"Strange!" said Willie.
+
+"What?"
+
+"My rest was fitful and disturbed and peopled by strange fancies
+a whole lot. I dreamp' he _throwed_ the race!"
+
+A chorus of oaths from the bunks.
+
+"What did you do?" inquired Stover.
+
+"I woke up, all of a tremble, with a gun in each hand."
+
+"I don't take no stock in dreams whatever," said some one.
+
+"Well, I'm the last person in the world to be superstitious,"
+Still Bill observed, "but I've had sim'lar visions lately."
+
+"Maybe it's a om-en."
+
+"What is a om-en?" Carara inquired.
+
+"A om-en," explained Willie, "is a kind of a nut. Salted om-ens
+is served at swell restaurants with the soup."
+
+In the midst of it Joy, the cook, appeared in the doorway, and
+spoke in his gentle, ingratiating tones:
+
+"Morning, gel'mum! I see 'im again."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"No savvy who; stlange man! I go down to spling-house for bucket
+water; see 'im lide 'way. Velly stlange!"
+
+"I bet it's Gallagher."
+
+"Vat you tank he vants?" queried Murphy.
+
+"He's layin' to get a shot at our runner," declared Stover, while
+Mr. Cloudy, forgetting his Indian reserve, explained in classic
+English his own theory of the nocturnal visits. "Do you remember
+Humpy Joe? Well, they didn't cripple him, but he lost. I don't
+think Gallagher would injure Mr. Speed, but--he might--bribe
+him."
+
+"_Caramba_!" exclaimed the Mexican.
+
+"God 'lmighty!" Willie cried, in shocked accents.
+
+"I believe you're right, but"--Stover meditated briefly before
+announcing with determination--"we'll do a little night-ridin'
+ourselves. Willie, you watch this young feller daytimes, and the
+rest of us'll take turns at night. An' don't lose sight of the
+fat man, neither--he might carry notes. If you don't like the
+looks of things--you know what cards to draw."
+
+"Sixes," murmured the near-sighted cow-man. "Don't worry."
+
+"If you see anything suspicious, burn it up. And we'll take a
+shot at anything we see movin' after 9 P.M."
+
+Then Berkeley Fresno came hurriedly into the bunk-house with a
+very cheery "Good-morning! I'm glad I found you up and doing," he
+said blithely. "I thought of something in my sleep." It was
+evident that the speaker had been in more than ordinary haste to
+make his discovery known, for underneath his coat he still wore
+his pajama shirt, and his hair was unbrushed.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Your man Speed isn't taking care of himself."
+
+"What did I tell you?" said Willie to his companions.
+
+"It seems to me that in justice to you boys he shouldn't act this
+way," Fresno ran on. "Now, for instance, the water in his shower-
+bath is tepid."
+
+There was an instant's silence before Stover inquired, with
+ominous restraint:
+
+"Who's been monkeying with it?"
+
+"It's warm!"
+
+"Oh!" It was a sigh of relief.
+
+"A man can't get in shape taking warm shower-baths. Warm water
+weakens a person."
+
+"Mebbe you-all will listen to me next time!" again cried Willie,
+triumphantly. "I said at the start that a bath never helped
+nobody. When they're hot they saps a man's courage, and when
+they're cold they--"
+
+"No, no! You don't understand! For an athlete the bath ought to
+be cold--the colder the better. It's the shock that hardens a
+fellow."
+
+"Has he weakened himself much?" inquired the foreman.
+
+"Undoubtedly, but--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"If we only had some ice--"
+
+"We got ice; plenty of it. We got a load from the railroad
+yesterday."
+
+"Then our only chance to save him is to fill the barrel quickly.
+We must freeze him, and freeze him well, before it is too late!
+By Jove! I'm glad I thought of it!"
+
+Stover turned to his men. "Four of you-all hustle up a couple
+hundred pounds of that ice _pronto!_ Crack it, an' fill the
+bar'l." There was a scramble for the door.
+
+"And there's something else, too," went on Berkeley. "He's being
+fed wrong for his last days of training. The idea of a man eating
+lamb-chops, fried eggs, oatmeal, and all that debilitating stuff!
+Those girls overload his stomach. Why, he ought to have something
+to make him strong--fierce!"
+
+"Name it," said Willie, shortly.
+
+"Something like--like--bear meat."
+
+"We ain't got no bear." Willie looked chagrined.
+
+"This ain't their habitat," added Stover apologetically.
+
+"Well, he ought to have meat, and it ought to be wild--raw, if
+possible."
+
+"There ain't nothin' wilder 'n a long-horn. We can git him a
+steer."
+
+"You are sure the meat isn't too tender?"
+
+"It's tougher 'n a night in jail."
+
+"There ain't no sausage-mill that'll dent it."
+
+"Good! The rarer it is the better. Some raw eggs and a good
+strong vegetable--"
+
+"Onions?"
+
+"Fine! We'll save him yet!"
+
+"We'll get the grub."
+
+"And he'll eat it!" Willie nodded firmly.
+
+Stover issued another order, this time to Carara. "You 'n Cloudy
+butcher the wildest four-year-old you can find. If you can't get
+close enough to rope him, shoot him, and bring in a hind quarter.
+It's got to be here in time for breakfast."
+
+"Si, Senor!" The Mexican picked up his lariat; the Indian took a
+Winchester from an upper bunk and filled it with cartridges.
+
+"Of course, he'll have to eat out here; they spoil him up at the
+house."
+
+"Sure thing!"
+
+"I'd hate to see him lose; it would be a terrible blow to Miss
+Blake." Fresno shook his head doubtfully.
+
+"What about us?"
+
+"Oh, you can stand it--but she's a girl. Ah, well," the speaker
+sighed, "I hope nothing occurs between now and Saturday to
+prevent his running."
+
+"It won't," Stover grimly assured the Californian. "Nothin'
+whatever is goin' to occur."
+
+"He was speaking yesterday about the possibility of some business
+engagement--"
+
+The small man in glasses interrupted. "Nothin' but death shall
+take him from us, Mr. Fresno."
+
+"If I think of anything else," offered Berkeley, kindly, "I'll
+tell you."
+
+"We wish you would."
+
+Fresno returned to the house, humming cheerily. It was still an
+hour until his breakfast-time, but he had accomplished much. In
+the midst of his meditation he came upon Miss Blake emerging upon
+the rear porch.
+
+"Good-morning!" he cried. She started a trifle guiltily. "What
+are you doing at this hour?"
+
+"Oh, I just love the morning air," she answered. "And you?"
+
+"Same here! 'Honesty goes to bed early, and industry rises
+betimes.' That's me!"
+
+"Then you have been working?"
+
+Fresno nodded. He was looking at four cowboys who were entering
+the gymnasium, staggering beneath dripping gunny-sacks. Then he
+turned his gaze searchingly upon the girl.
+
+"Were you looking for Speed?" he asked accusingly. "The idea!"
+Miss Blake flushed faintly.
+
+"If you are, he has gone for a run. I dearly love to see him get
+up early and run, he enjoys it so. To give pleasure to others is
+one of my constant aims. That is why I learned to sing." "I have
+been baking a cake," said Helen, displaying the traces of her
+occupation upon hands, arms, and apron, while Fresno, at sight of
+the blue apron tied at her throat and waist, felt that he himself
+was as dough in her hands. "I had a dreadful time to make it
+rise."
+
+"Early rising is always unpopular."
+
+"How clever you are this morning."
+
+"If I were a cake I would rise at your lightest word."
+
+"The cook said it wouldn't be fit to eat," declared Helen.
+
+"Jealousy! She hadn't been up long."
+
+"And I _did_ leave a lot of dishes to wash after I had
+finished," Miss Blake admitted.
+
+"I should love to eat your cooking."
+
+"Once in a while, perhaps, but not every day."
+
+"Every day--always and always. You know what I-mean, Miss Blake--
+Helen!" The young man bent a lover's gaze upon his companion
+until he detected her eyes fastened with startled inquiry upon
+his toilet. Remembering, he buttoned his coat, but ran on. "This
+is the first chance I've had to see you alone since Speed
+arrived. There's something I want to ask you."
+
+"I--I know what it is," stammered Helen. "You want me to let you
+sing again. Please do. I love morning music--and your voice is so
+tender."
+
+"Life," said Berkeley, "is one sweet--"
+
+"What is going on here?" demanded a voice behind them, and Mrs.
+Keap came out upon the porch, eying the pair suspiciously. It was
+evident that she, like Fresno, had dressed hurriedly.
+
+"Mr. Fresno is going to sing to us," explained the younger girl,
+quickly.
+
+"Really?"
+
+"I am like the bird that greets the morn with song," laughed the
+tenor, awkwardly.
+
+"What are you going to sing?" demanded the chaperon, still
+suspiciously. "_Dearie_."
+
+"Don't you know any other song?"
+
+"Oh yes, but they are all sad."
+
+"I'm getting a trifle tired of _Dearie_, let's have one of
+the others." Mrs. Keap turned her eyes anxiously toward the
+training-quarters, and it was patent that she had not counted
+upon this encounter. Noting her lack of ease, Fresno said
+hopefully:
+
+"If you are going for a walk, I'll sing for you at some other
+time."
+
+"Is Mr. Speed up yet?"
+
+"Up and gone. He'll be back soon."
+
+Then Mrs. Keap sank into the hammock, and with something like
+resignation, said:
+
+"Proceed with the song."
+
+Along the road toward the ranch buildings plodded two dusty
+pedestrians, one a blond youth bundled thickly in sweaters, the
+other a fat man who rolled heavily, and paused now and then to
+mop his purple face. Both were dripping as if from an immersion,
+while the air about the latter vibrated with heat waves. They
+both stumbled as they walked, and it was only by the strongest
+effort of will that they propelled themselves. As they neared the
+corner of the big, low-lying ranch-house, already reflecting the
+hot glare of the morning sun, a man's clear tenor voice came to
+them.
+
+   "The volley was fired at sunrise,
+    Just at the break of day"--
+
+"Did you get that?" one of the two exclaimed hoarsely. "They're
+practising a death-march, and it's ours."
+
+   "And as the echoes lingered,
+    His soul had passed away."
+
+"That's you, Wally!" wheezed the trainer.
+
+   "Into the arms of his Maker,
+    There to learn his fate"--
+
+Speed broke into a run.
+
+   "A tear, a sigh, a last 'Good-bye'--
+      The pardon came too late."
+
+"Here, what are you singing about?" angrily protested Speed, as
+he rounded into view.
+
+"Oh, it's Mr. Speed!"
+
+"Good-morning!" chorused Helen and the chaperon.
+
+"Welcome to our city!" Fresno greeted.
+
+Glass tottered to the steps. "Them songs," he puffed, "is bad for
+a man when he's trainin'; they get him all worked up."
+
+"We had no idea you would be back so soon," apologized Helen.
+
+"Soon!" Speed measured the distance to a wicker chair, gave it
+up, and sank beside his trainer. "We left yesterday! We've run
+miles and miles and miles!"
+
+"You can't be in very good shape," volunteered the singer.
+
+"Oh, is that so?" Glass retorted. "I say he's great. He got my
+goat--and I'm some runner."
+
+"And I'd be obliged to you if you'd cut out those deeply
+appealing songs." Speed glowered at his rival. It was Helen who
+hastened to smooth things.
+
+"It's all my fault. I asked Mr. Fresno to sing something new."
+
+"Bah! That was written by William Cromwell."
+
+"No more of them battle-hymns," Glass ordered. "They don't do Mr.
+Speed no good."
+
+"All I want is a drink," panted that youthful athlete, and Helen
+rose quickly, saying that she would bring ice-water.
+
+But the trainer barked, sharply: "Nix! I've told you that twenty
+times, Wally. It'll put hob-nails in your liver." He rose with
+difficulty, swaying upon his feet, and where he had sat was a
+large, irregular shaped, sweat-dampened area. "Come on! Don't get
+chilled."
+
+"I'd give twenty dollars for a good chill!" exclaimed the
+overheated college man longingly.
+
+"I would like to see you a moment, Mr. Speed." Roberta rose from
+the hammock.
+
+"Oh, and I've forgotten my--" Helen checked her words with a
+startled glance toward the kitchen. "It will be burned to a
+crisp." She hastened down the porch, and Fresno followed, while
+Speed looked after them.
+
+"He must be an awful nuisance to a nice girl. Think of a fat,
+sandy-haired husband in a five-room flat with pink wall-paper and
+a colored janitor. Run along, Muldoon," to Glass, "I'll be with
+you in a moment."
+
+When the trainer had waddled out of hearing, Mrs. Keap inquired,
+eagerly:
+
+"Have you heard from Culver?"
+
+"Didn't you know about it?" Speed swallowed.
+
+Roberta shook her dark head.
+
+"He's in--he's detained at Omaha for ten days. I fixed it."
+
+The overwrought widow dropped back into the hammock, crying
+weakly:
+
+"Oh, you dear, good boy!"
+
+"Yes, I'm all of that. I--I suppose I'd be missed if anything
+happened to me!"
+
+"How ever did you manage it?"
+
+"Never mind the details. It took some ingenuity."
+
+Mrs. Keap wrung her hands. "I was so terribly frightened! You
+see, Jack will be back to-morrow, and I--was afraid--"
+
+There was a call from Glass from the training-quarters.
+
+"How can I ever do enough for you? You have averted a tragedy!"
+
+"Don't let Helen know, that's all. If she thought I'd been the
+head yeller--"
+
+"I won't breathe a word, and I hope you win the race for her
+sake."
+
+Mrs. Keap pressed the hand of her deliverer, who trudged his
+lonely way toward the gymnasium, where Glass was saying:
+
+"'The volley was fired at sunrise.' That means Saturday, Bo."
+
+"Larry, you're the best crepe-hanger of your weight in the
+world."
+
+Larry bent a look of open disgust upon his employer.
+
+"And you're a good runner, you are," said he. "Why, _I_ beat
+you this morning."
+
+The younger man glanced up hopefully. "Couldn't you beat this
+cook?"
+
+"You're the only man in this world I can outrun.
+
+"'A tear, a sigh, a last good-bye.'"
+
+"_Shut up!_"
+
+As Glass consented to do this, the speaker mused, bitterly,
+"'Early to bed and early to rise.' I wish I had the night-
+watchman who wrote those words."
+
+"Didn't you never see the sun rise before?"
+
+"Certainly not. I don't stay up that late."
+
+"Well, ain't it beautiful!" The stout man turned admiring eyes to
+the eastward, and his husky voice softened. "All them colors and
+tints and shades and stuff! And New York on the other end!"
+
+"I'm too tired to see beauty in anything." As if mindful of a
+neglected duty, Glass turned upon him. "What are you waiting for?
+Get those dog-beds off your back." He seized the slack of a
+sweater and gave it a jerk.
+
+"Don't be so rough; I'll come. You might care to remember you're
+working for me."
+
+"I am working"--Glass dragged his protege about the room
+regardless of complaints that were muffled by the thickness of
+the sweaters--"for my life, and I'll be out of a job Saturday.
+Now, get under that shower!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+"Do you know, Larry, I'm beginning to like these warm showers;
+they rest me." As he spoke, Wally took his place beneath the
+barrel and pulled the cord that connected with the nozzle. The
+next instant he uttered a piercing shriek and leaped from beneath
+the apparatus, upsetting Glass, who rose in time to fling his
+charge back into the deluge.
+
+"Let me out!" yelled the athlete, and made another dash, at which
+his guardian bellowed:
+
+"Stand still, or I'll wallop you! What's got into you, anyhow?"
+
+The heads of Stover and Willie, thrust through the door, nodded
+with gratification.
+
+"It's got him livened up considerable," quoth the former. "Listen
+to that!" It seemed that a battle must be in progress behind the
+screen, for, mingled with the gasping screams of the athlete and
+the hoarse commands of the trainer, came sounds of physical
+contact. The barrel rocked upon its scaffold, the curtains swayed
+and flapped violently.
+
+"Stand still!"
+
+"It's--it's as c-c-cold as _ice!_"
+
+"Nix! You're overheated, that's all."
+
+"Ow-w-w! Ooo-h-h! I'm dying!"
+
+"It'll do you good."
+
+"He's certainly trainin' him some," said Stover.
+
+"Larry, I've got a cramp!"
+
+"It did harden him," acknowledged Willie.
+
+"What's wrong with you, anyhow?" demanded Glass.
+
+"It's not _me_, it's the w-w-water!"
+
+Evidently Speed made a frantic lunge here and escaped, for the
+flow of water ceased.
+
+"It froze d-d-during the night. Oh-h! I'm cold!"
+
+"Cold, eh? Get onto that rubbing-board; I'll warm you."
+
+An instant later the cow-men heard the sounds of a violent
+slapping mingled with groans.
+
+"Go easy, I say! I'll be black and blue all--LOOK OUT!--not so
+much in one spot! _Ow_!"
+
+"Turn over!"
+
+"He's spankin' him," said Stover admiringly.
+
+Again the spatting arose, this time like the sound of a musketry
+fusilade, during which Berkeley Fresno entered by the other door.
+
+"Don't be so brutal!" wailed the patient to his masseur.
+
+"I'm pretty near through. There! Now get up and dress," ordered
+the trainer, who, pushing his way out through the blankets,
+halted at sight of the onlookers.
+
+"How is he?" demanded Stover.
+
+"He--he's trained to the minute. I'm doin' my share, gents."
+
+"Sounds that way," acknowledged Stover's companion. "Say, does it
+look like we'd win?"
+
+"Well, he just breezed a mile in forty, with his mouth open."
+
+"A mile?" Fresno queried.
+
+"Yes, a regular mile--seven thousand five hundred and thirty
+feet."
+
+"Is 'forty' good?" queried Willie.
+
+"Good? Why, Salvator never worked no faster. Here he is now--look
+for yourselves."
+
+Speed appeared, partly clad, and glowing with a rich salmon pink.
+
+"Good-morning," said Fresno politely. "I came in to see how you
+liked the cold water."
+
+"So that was one of your California jokes, eh? Well, I'll--"
+
+Speed moved ominously in the direction of the tenor, but Willie
+checked him.
+
+"We put the ice in that bar'l, Mr. Speed."
+
+"You!"
+
+Willie and Stover nodded.
+
+"Then let me tell you I expect to have pneumonia from that bath."
+The young man coughed hollowly. "That's the way I caught it once
+before, and it wouldn't surprise me a bit if I'd be too sick to
+run by Saturday."
+
+"Oh no; you don't get pneumony but once."
+
+"And, besides," Fresno added, "it wouldn't have time to show up
+by Saturday."
+
+"Get that ice-chest out of my room, that's all; it makes the air
+damp."
+
+"No indeed!" said Still Bill. "We're goin' to see that you use it
+reg'lar." Then of Glass he inquired: "What do you do to him
+next?"
+
+"I give him a nerve treatment. A jack-rabbit jumped at him this
+morning and he bolted to the outside fence." Larry forced his
+employer to a seat, then, securing a firm hold of the flesh,
+began to discourse learnedly upon anatomy and hygiene, the while
+his victim writhed. It was evident that the cattle-men were
+intensely interested. "Well, sir, when I first got him his
+sploven was in terrible shape," said Larry. "In fact, I never saw
+such a--"
+
+"What was in terrible shape?" ventured the tenor. "His sploven."
+
+"Sploven! Is that a locality or a beverage?"
+
+Glass glowered at the cause of the interruption. "It's a nerve-
+centre, of course!" Then to the others, he ran on, glibly: "The
+treatment was simple, but it took time. You see, I had to first
+trace his bedildo to its source, like this." He thrust a finger
+into Wally's back and ploughed a furrow upward. "You see?" He
+paused, triumphantly. "A fore-shortened bedildo! It ain't well
+yet."
+
+"Can a man run fast with one of them?" inquired Willie.
+
+"Certainly, cer-tain-ly--provided, of course, that the percentage
+of spelldiffer in the blood offsets it."
+
+Both cowboys came closer now, and hung eagerly upon every word.
+
+"And does it do--that?" they questioned, while Fresno suggested
+that it was not easy to tell without bleeding the patient.
+
+"No, no! You can hear the spelldiffers." Glass motioned to
+Willie.
+
+"Put your ear to his chest. Hear anything?"
+
+"Hearts poundin' like a calf's at a brandin'."
+
+"Which proves it!" proudly asserted the trainer. "Barrin'
+accidents, Mr. Speed will be in the pink of condition by
+Saturday."
+
+The cow-men beamed benignantly.
+
+"That's fine!"
+
+"We are sure pleased, and we've got something for you, Mr. Speed.
+Come on, Mr. Fresno, and give us a hand. We'll bring it in."
+
+"It's a present!" exclaimed the athlete, brightly, when the three
+had gone out. "They seem more friendly this morning."
+
+"Yes!" Glass laughed, mirthlessly. "They think you're going to
+win."
+
+"Well, how do you know I can't win? You never saw this cook run."
+
+"I don't have to; I've seen you."
+
+"Just the same, I'm in pretty good shape. Maybe I could run if I
+really tried."
+
+"Send yourself along, Kid. It won't harm you none." The speaker
+fanned himself, and took a seat in the cosey-corner.
+
+"Ah! Here they come, bearing gifts." Speed rose in pleased
+expectancy. "I wonder what it can be?"
+
+The three who had just left re-entered the room, carrying a tray-
+load of thick railroad crockery.
+
+"We've brought your breakfast to you," explained Stover. "We'd
+like you to eat alone till after the race." Still Bill began to
+whittle what appeared to be a blood-rare piece of flesh, while
+Willie awkwardly arranged the dishes.
+
+"You want me to _eat_ as well as sleep here?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Oh, I can't do that! I'm sorry, but--"
+
+"Don't make us insist." Willie looked up from his tray, and Glass
+raised a moist hand and said:
+
+"Don't make 'em insist."
+
+With fascinated stare Speed drew nearer to Stover and examined
+the meat bone.
+
+"Why--why, that's _raw_!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Does look rar'," agreed the foreman.
+
+"Then take it out and build a fire under it. I'll consent to eat
+here, but I won't turn cannibal, even to please you."
+
+"I'm sorry." Stover did not interrupt his carving.
+
+"Your diet ain't been right," explained Willie. "You ain't wild
+enough to suit us."
+
+Speed searched one serious face, then another. Fresno was nodding
+approval, his countenance impassive.
+
+"Is this a joke?"
+
+"We ain't never joked with you yit, have we?"
+
+"No. But--"
+
+"This breakfast goes as she lays!"
+
+Glass broke abruptly into smothered merriment. "When I laugh
+nowadays it's a funny joke," he giggled.
+
+That grown men could be so stupid was unbelievable, and Wally,
+seeing himself the object of a senseless prank, was roused to
+anger.
+
+"Lawrence, get my coat," said he. "I've been bullied enough; I'm
+going up to the house." When Stover only continued whittling
+methodically, he burst out: "Stop honing that shin-bone! If you
+like it you can eat it! I'm going now to swallow a stack of hot
+cakes with maple syrup!"
+
+"Mr. Speed," Willie impaled him with a steady glare, "you'll eat
+what we tell you to, and nothin' else! If we say 'grass,' grass
+it'll be. You're goin' to beat one Skinner if it takes a human
+life. And if that life happens to be yours, you got nobody but
+yourself to blame."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"You heard me! I've been set to ride herd on you daytimes, the
+other boys'll guard you nights. We been double-crossed once--it
+won't happen again."
+
+"Then it amounts to this, does it: I'm your prisoner?"
+
+"More of a prized possession," offered Stover. "If you ain't got
+the loy'lty to stand by us, we got to _make_ you! This diet
+is part of the programme. Now if you think beef is too hearty for
+this time of day, tear into them eggs."
+
+"You intend to make me eat this disgusting stuff, whether I want
+to or not?" Even yet the youth could not convince himself that
+this was other than a joke.
+
+"No." Willie shook his head. "We just aim to make you _want_
+to eat it."
+
+Then Larry Glass made his fatal mistake.
+
+"Say, why don't you let Mr. Speed buy you a new phonograph, and
+call the race off?" he inquired.
+
+Stover, stricken dumb, paused, knife in hand; Willie stared as if
+bereft of motion. Then the former spoke slowly. "Looks like we'd
+ought to smoke up this fat party, Will."
+
+Willie nodded, and Glass realized that the little man's steel-
+blue eyes were riveted balefully upon him.
+
+"I've had a hunch it would come to that," the near-sighted one
+replied. "Every time I look at him I see a bleedin' bullet-hole
+in his abominable regions, about here." He laid a finger upon his
+stomach, and Glass felt a darting pain at precisely the same
+spot. It was as agonizing as if Willie's spectacles were huge
+burning-glasses focussing the rays of a tropic sun upon his bare
+flesh. He folded protecting hands over the threatened region and
+backed toward the prayer-rug, mumbling "Allah! Allah!" No matter
+whither he shifted, the eyes bored into him.
+
+"That's where you hit the gambler at Ogden," he heard Stover say
+--it might have been from a great distance--"but I aim for the
+bridge of the nose."
+
+"The belly ain't so sudden as the eye-socket, but it's more
+lingerin', and a heap painfuller," explained the gun man, and
+Speed was moved to sympathy.
+
+"Larry only wanted to please you--eh, Larry?" he said, nervously,
+but Glass made no reply. His distended orbs were frozen upon
+Willie. It was doubtful if he even heard.
+
+"Our honor ain't for sale," Still Bill declared.
+
+Here Berkeley Fresno spoke. "Of course not. And you mustn't think
+that Speed is trying to get out of the race. He _wants_ to
+run! And if anything happened to prevent his running he'd be
+broken-hearted, I know he would!"
+
+Willie's hypnotic eye left the trainer's abdomen and travelled
+slowly to Speed.
+
+"What could happen?" questioned he.
+
+"N-nothing that I know of."
+
+"You don't aim to leave?"
+
+"Certainly not."
+
+"Oh, you fellows take it too seriously," Fresno offered
+carelessly. "He might _have_ to."
+
+Willie's upper lip drew back, showing his yellow teeth.
+
+"They don't sell no railroad tickets before Saturday, and the
+walkin' is bad. There's your breakfast, Mr. Speed. When you've et
+your fill, you better rest. And don't talk to them ladies,
+neither; it spoils your train of thought!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+Now that the possibility of escape from the Flying Heart was cut
+off, the young man felt agonizing regret that he had not yielded
+to his trainer's earlier importunities and taken refuge in flight
+while there was yet time. It would have been undignified,
+perhaps; but once away from these single-minded cattle-men, his
+life would have been safe at least, and he could have trusted his
+ingenuity to reinstate him in Miss Blake's good graces.
+Everything was too late now. Even if he made a clean breast of
+the whole affair to Jean, or to her brother when he arrived, what
+good would that do? He doubted Jack's ability to save him, in the
+light of what had just passed; for men like Willie cared nothing
+for the orders of the person whose pay-roll they chanced to
+grace. And Willie was not alone, either; the rest of the crew
+were equally desperate. What heed would these nomads pay to Jack
+Chapin's commands, once they learned the truth? They were Arabs
+who owed allegiance to no one but themselves, the country was
+wild, the law was feeble, it was twenty miles to the railroad!
+And, besides, the thought of confession was abhorrent. Physical
+injury, no matter how severe, was infinitely preferable to Helen
+Blake's disdain. He cast about desperately for some saving
+loophole, but found himself trapped--completely, hopelessly
+trapped.
+
+There were still, however, two days of grace, and to youth two
+days is an eternity. Therefore, he closed his eyes and trusted to
+the unexpected. How the unexpected could get past that grim,
+watchful sentry just outside the door he could not imagine, but
+when the breakfast-bell reminded him of his hunger, he banished
+his fears for the sake of the edibles his custodians had served.
+
+"Don't you want anything to eat?" he inquired, when Larry made no
+move to depart for the cook-house.
+
+"No."
+
+"Not hungry, eh?"
+
+"I'm hungry enough to eat a plush cushion, but--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Mary!"
+
+"Mariedetta?"
+
+"Sure. She's been chasin' me again. If somebody don't side-track
+that Cuban, I'll have to lick Carara." He sighed. "I told you
+we'd ought to tin-can it out of here. Now it's too late."
+
+Willie thrust his head in through the open window, inquiring,
+"Well, how's the breakfast goin'?" and withdrew, humming a
+favorite song:
+
+  "'Sam Bass was born in Indiany;
+    It was his natif home.
+    At the early age of seventeen
+    Young Sam commenced to roam.'"
+
+"Fine voice!" said Lawrence, with a shudder.
+
+It was perhaps a half-hour later that Helen Blake came tripping
+into the gymnasium, radiant, sparkling, her crisp white dress
+touched here and there with blue that matched her eyes, in her
+hands a sunshade, a novel, and a mysterious little bundle.
+
+"We were so sorry to lose you at breakfast," she began.
+
+Wally led her to the cosey-corner, and seated himself beside her.
+
+"I suppose it is a part of this horrid training. I would never
+have mentioned that foot-race if I had dreamed it would be like
+this."
+
+Here at least was a soul that sympathized.
+
+"The only hardship is not to see you," he declared softly.
+
+Miss Blake dropped her eyes.
+
+"I thought you might like to go walking; it's a gorgeous morning.
+You see, I've brought a book to read to you while you rest--you
+must be tired after your run."
+
+"I am, and I will. This is awfully good of you, Miss Blake."
+Speed rose, overwhelmed with joy, but the look of Glass was not
+to be passed by. "I-I'm afraid it's impossible, however." The
+blue eyes flew open in astonishment. "Why?" the girl questioned.
+
+"They won't let me. I--I'm supposed to keep to myself."
+
+"They? Who?"
+
+"Glass."
+
+Miss Blake turned indignantly upon Larry. "Do you mean to say Mr.
+Speed can't go walking with me?"
+
+"I never said nothing of the sort," declared the trainer. "He can
+go if he wants to."
+
+"Just the same, I--oughtn't to do it. There is a strict routine--
+"
+
+A lift of the brows and a courteous smile proclaimed Miss Blake's
+perfect indifference to the subject, just as Willie sauntered
+past the open window and spoke to Glass beneath his breath:
+
+"Git her out!"
+
+"I'm so sorry. May I show you a surprise I brought for you?" She
+unwrapped her parcel, and proudly displayed a pallid, anaemic
+cake garlanded with wild flowers.
+
+Speed was honestly overcome. "For me?"
+
+"For you. It isn't even cold yet, see! I made it before
+breakfast, and it looks even better than the one I baked at
+school!"
+
+"That's what I call fine," declared the youth. "By Jove! and I'm
+so fond of cake!"
+
+"Have a care!" breathed Larry, rising nervously, but Speed paid
+no attention.
+
+"Break it with your own hands, please. Besides, it's too hot to
+cut."
+
+Miss Blake broke it with her own hands, during which operation
+the brown face of the man outside reappeared in the window. At
+sight of the cake he spoke sharply, and Lawrence lumbered swiftly
+across the floor and laid a heavy hand upon the cake.
+
+"Mr. Speed!" he cried warningly.
+
+"Here, take your foot off my angel-food!" fiercely ordered the
+youth. But the other was like adamant.
+
+"Bo, you are about to contest for the honor of this ranch! That
+cake will make a bum of you!"
+
+"Oh--h!" gasped the author of the delicacy. "Stop before it is
+too late!" Glass held his hungry employer at a distance, striving
+to make known by a wink the necessity of his act.
+
+"There is absolutely nothing in my cake to injure any one," Helen
+objected loyally, with lifted chin; whereupon the corpulent
+trainer turned to her and said:
+
+"Cake would crab any athlete. Cake and gals is the limit."
+
+"Really! I had no idea I was the least bit dangerous." Miss
+Blake, turning to her host, smiled frigidly. "I'm so sorry I
+intruded."
+
+"Now don't say that!" Speed strove to detain her. "Please don't
+be offended--I just _have_ to train!"
+
+"Of course. And will you pardon me for interrupting your routine?
+You see, I had no idea I wasn't wanted."
+
+"But you are, and I _do_ want you! I--"
+
+"Good-bye!" She nodded pleasantly at the door, and left her lover
+staring after her.
+
+When she had gone, he cried, in a trembling voice: "You're a fine
+yap, you are! She got up early to do something nice for me, and
+you insulted her! You wouldn't even let me sit and hold her
+hand!"
+
+"No palm-readin'." Speed turned to behold his trainer ravenously
+devouring the cake, and dashed to its rescue.
+
+"It's heavier than a frog full of buckshot. You won't like it,
+Cul."
+
+"It's perfectly delicious!" came the choking answer.
+
+"Then get back of them curtains. Willie'd shoot on sight."
+
+All that morning the prisoner idled about the premises, followed
+at a distance by his guard. Wherever he went he seemed to see the
+sun flash defiance from the polished surface of those lenses, and
+while he was allowed a certain liberty, he knew full well that
+this espionage would never cease, night or day, until--what? He
+could not bear to read the future; anything seemed possible. Time
+and again he cursed that spirit of braggadocio, that thoughtless
+lack of moral scruple, which had led him into this predicament.
+He vowed that he was done with false pretences; henceforth the
+strictest probity should be his. No more false poses. Praise won
+by dissimulation and deceit was empty, anyhow, and did he escape
+this once, henceforth the world should know J. Wallingford Speed
+for what he was--an average individual, with no uncommon gifts of
+mind or body, courage or ability.
+
+Yet it was small comfort to realize that he was getting his just
+deserts, and it likewise availed little to anathematize Fresno as
+the cause of his misfortune.
+
+At noon Wally went through the mockery of a second blood-rare
+meal, with no cake to follow, and that afternoon Glass dragged
+him out under the hot sun, and made him sprint until he was ready
+to drop from exhaustion. His supper was wretched, and his fatigue
+so great that he fell asleep at Miss Blake's side during the
+evening. With the first hint of dawn he was up again, and Friday
+noon found him utterly hopeless, when, true to his prediction,
+the unexpected happened. In one moment he was raised from the
+blackest depths to the wildest transports of delight. It came in
+the shape of a telegram which Jean summoned him to the house to
+receive. He wondered listlessly as he opened the message, then
+started as if disbelieving his eyes; the marks of a wild emotion
+spread over his features, he burst into shrill, hysterical
+laughter.
+
+"Do tell us!" begged Roberta.
+
+"Covington--Covington is coming!" Wally felt his head whirl, and
+failed to note the chaperon's cry of surprise and see the paling
+of her cheeks. "_Covington is coming!_ Don't you
+understand?" he shouted. After all, the gods were not deaf! Good
+old Culver, who had never failed him, was coming as a deliverer.
+
+Even in the face of his extraordinary outburst the attention of
+the beholders was drawn to Lawrence Glass, who caused the porch
+to shake beneath his feet; who galloped to his employer, and,
+seizing him by the hands, capered about like a hippopotamus.
+
+"I told you 'Allah' was some guy," he wheezed. "When does
+Covington arrive?" Wally reread the message. "It says 'Noon
+Friday.' Why, that's to-day! He's here now!"
+
+"'Rah! 'Rah! 'Rah! Covington!" bellowed the trainer, and Mrs.
+Keap sank to a seat with a stifled moan.
+
+"Why all the 'Oh joy! Oh, rapture!' stuff?" questioned Berkeley
+Fresno.
+
+"As Socrates, the Hemlock Kid, would put it, 'Snatched from the
+shadow of the grave,'" quoth Glass, then paused abruptly. "Say,
+you don't think nothin' could happen to him on the way over from
+the depot?"
+
+"I'm so sorry we didn't know in time to meet him," lamented Miss
+Chapin.
+
+"And I could have run over to the railroad to bid him welcome,"
+laughed Speed. "Twenty miles would do me good."
+
+Still Bill and Willie approached the gallery curiously, and in
+subdued tones inquired:
+
+"What's the matter, Mr. Speed?"
+
+"You ain't been summoned away?" Willie stared questioningly
+upward. "No, no! My running partner is on his way here, that's
+all."
+
+"Running pardner?"
+
+"Culver Covington."
+
+"Oh, we was afraid something had happened. You see, Gabby
+Gallagher has just blowed in from the Centipede to raise our
+bets."
+
+"We think it's a bluff, and we'd like to call him."
+
+"Do so, by all means!" cried the excited athlete. "Come on, let's
+all talk to him!"
+
+The entire party, with the exception of Mrs. Keap, trooped down
+from the porch and followed the foreman out toward the sheds,
+where, in the midst of a crowd of ranch-hands, a burly, loud-
+voiced Texan was discoursing.
+
+"I do wish Jack were here," said Jean nervously, on the way.
+
+Gabby Gallagher seemed a fitting leader for such a desperate crew
+as that of the Centipede, for he was the hardest-looking citizen
+the Easterners had beheld thus far. He was thickset, and burned
+to the color of a ripe olive; his long, drooping mustaches,
+tobacco-stained at the centre, were bleached at the extremities
+to a hempen hue. His bristly hair was cut short, and stood
+aggressively erect upon a bullet head, his clothes were soiled
+and greasy beneath a gray coating of dust. A pair of alert, lead-
+blue eyes and a certain facility of movement belied the drawl
+that marked his nativity. He removed his hat and bowed at sight
+of Miss Chapin.
+
+"Good-evenin', Miss Jean!" said he. "I hope I find y'all well."
+
+"Quite well, Gallagher. And you?"
+
+"Tol'able, thank you."
+
+"These are my friends from the East."
+
+The Centipede foreman ran his eyes coldly over Jean's companions
+until they rested upon Speed, where they remained. He shifted a
+lump in his cheek, spat dexterously, and directed his remark at
+the Yale man.
+
+"I rode over to see if y'all would like to lay a little mo' on
+this y'ere foot-race. I allow you are the unknown?"
+
+Speed nodded, and Stover took occasion to remark: "Them's our
+inclinations, but we've about gone our limit."
+
+"I don't blame you none," said Gallagher, allowing his gaze to
+rove slowly from top to toe of the Eastern lad. "No, I cain't
+blame you none whatever. But I'm terrible grieved at them
+tidin's. Though we Centipede punchers has ever considered y'all a
+cheap an' poverty-ridden outfit, we gives you credit for bein'
+game, till now." He spat for a second time, and regarded Stover
+scornfully.
+
+A murmur ran through the cowboys.
+
+"We are game," retorted Stover, "and for your own good don't
+allow no belief to the contrary to become a superstition." Of a
+sudden the gangling, spineless foreman had grown taut and
+forceful, his long face was hard.
+
+"Don't let a Centipede bluff you!" exclaimed Speed. "Cover
+anything they offer--give 'em odds. Anything you don't want, I'll
+take, pay or play, money at the tape. We can't lose."
+
+"I got no more money," said Carara, removing his handsome
+bespangled hat, "but I bet my sombrero. 'E's wort' two hondred
+pesos."
+
+Murphy, the Swede, followed quickly:
+
+"Aye ban' send may vages home to may ole' moder, but aye skall
+bat you some."
+
+"Haven't you boys risked enough already?" ventured Miss Chapin.
+"Remember, it will go pretty hard with the losers."
+
+"Harder the better," came a voice.
+
+"Y'all don't have to bet, jest because I'm h'yar," gibed
+Gallagher.
+
+"God! I wish I was rich!" exclaimed Willie.
+
+But Miss Chapin persisted. "You are two months overdrawn, all of
+you. My brother won't advance you any more."
+
+"Then my man, Lawrence, will take what they can't cover," offered
+Speed.
+
+"That's right! Clean 'em good, brothers," croaked the trainer.
+
+"If you'll step over to the bunk-house, Gabby, we'll dig up some
+personal perquisites and family heirlooms." Stover nodded toward
+his men's quarters, and Gallagher grinned joyously.
+
+"That shore listens like a band from where I set. We aim to annex
+the wages, hopes, and personal ambitions of y'all, along with
+your talkin'-machine."
+
+"Excuse me." Willie pushed his way forward. "How's she gettin'
+along?"
+
+"Fine!"
+
+"You mule-skinners ain't broke her?"
+
+"No; we plays her every evenin'."
+
+The little man shifted his feet; then allowed himself to inquire,
+as if regarding the habits of some dear departed friend:
+
+"Have you chose any favorite records?"
+
+"We all has our picks. Speakin' personal, I'm stuck on that
+baggage coach song of Mrs. More's."
+
+"Mo_ray!_" Willie corrected. "M-o-r-a! Heleney Mo_ray_
+is the lady's name."
+
+"Mebbe so. Our foot-runner likes that Injun war-dance best of
+all." Carara smiled at Cloudy, who nodded, as if pleased by the
+compliment. Then it was that the Flying Heart spokesman made an
+inquiry in hushed, hesitating tones.
+
+"How do you like _The Holy City_"--he removed his hat, as
+did those back of him. "As sung by Madam-o-sella Melby?"
+
+"Rotten!" Gallagher said promptly. "That's a bum, for fair."
+
+During one breathless instant the wizened man stood as if
+disbelieving his ears, the enormity of the insult robbing him of
+speech and motion. Then he uttered a snarl, and Stover was barely
+in time to intercept the backward fling of his groping hand.
+
+"No voylence, Willie! There's ladies present."
+
+Stover's captive ground his teeth and struggled briefly, then
+turned and made for the open prairie without a word.
+
+"It's his first love," said Stover, simply. The other foreman
+exploded into hoarse laughter, saying:
+
+"I didn't reckon I was treadin' on the toes of no bereafed
+relatif's, but them church tunes ain't my style. However, we're
+wastin' time, gents. Where's that bunk-house? Nothin' but money
+talks loud enough for me to hear. Good-day, white folks!"
+Gallagher saluted Miss Chapin and her friends with a flourish,
+and moved away in company with the cowboys.
+
+"I never," said Glass, "seen so many tough guys outside of a
+street-car strike."
+
+"Gallagher has been in prison," Jean informed him. "He's a
+wonderful shot."
+
+"I _knew_ it!"
+
+Speed spoke up brightly: "Well, let's go back to the house and
+wait for Covington."
+
+"But you were getting ready to go running," said Helen.
+
+"No more running for me! I'm in good enough shape, eh, Larry?"
+
+"Great! Barring the one thing."
+
+"What's that?" queried Fresno.
+
+"A little trouble with one of his nerve-centres, that's all. But
+even if it got worse during the night, Covington could run the
+race for him."
+
+The Californian started. At last all was plain. He had doubted
+from the first, now he was certain; but with understanding came
+also a menace to his own careful plans. If Covington ran in
+Speed's place, how could he effect his rival's exposure? On the
+way back to the house he had to think rapidly.
+
+Mrs. Keap was pacing the porch as the others came up, and called
+Speed aside; then, when they were alone, broke out, with blazing
+eyes:
+
+"You said you had stopped him!"
+
+"And I thought I had. I did my best."
+
+"But he's coming! He'll be here any minute!"
+
+"I suppose he learned you were here." Wally laughed.
+
+"Then you must have told him."
+
+"No, I didn't."
+
+"Mr. Speed"--Roberta's cheeks were pallid and her voice trembled
+--"you--didn't--send that telegram--at all."
+
+"Oh, but I did."
+
+"You wanted him to get here in time to run in your place. I see
+it all now. You arranged it very cleverly, but you will pay the
+penalty."
+
+"You surely won't tell Helen?"
+
+"This minute! You wretched, deceitful man!"
+
+Before he could say more, from the front of the house came the
+rattle of wheels, a loud "Whoa!" then Jean's voice, crying:
+
+"Culver! Culver!" while Mrs. Keap clutched at her bosom and
+moaned.
+
+Her companion bolted into the house and down the hall, shouting
+the name of his room-mate. Out through the front door he dashed
+headlong, in time to behold Fresno and the two girls assisting
+the new arrival toward the veranda. They were exclaiming in pity,
+and had their arms about the athlete, for Culver Covington,
+Intercollegiate One-Hundred-Yard Champion, was hobbling forward
+upon a pair of crutches.
+
+The yell died in Speed's throat, he felt himself grow deadly
+faint.
+
+"Crippled!" he gasped, and leaned against the door for support.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+In a daze, Speed saw his friend mount the porch painfully; in a
+daze, he shook his hand. Subconsciously he beheld Lawrence Glass
+come panting into view, throw up his hands at sight of Covington,
+and cry out in a strange tongue. When he regained his faculties
+he broke into the conversation harshly.
+
+"What have you done to yourself?"
+
+"I broke a toe," explained the athlete.
+
+"You broke a toe?"
+
+"He broke a toe!" wailed Glass, faintly.
+
+"If it's nothing but a toe, it won't hurt your running." Speed
+seized eagerly upon the faintest hope.
+
+"No. I'll be all right in a few weeks." Covington spoke
+carelessly, his eyes bent upon Jean Chapin. "You've g-got to run
+to-morrow."
+
+"What!" Covington dragged his glance away from the cheeks of his
+sweetheart.
+
+"I--I'm sick. You'll have to."
+
+"Don't be an idiot, Wally. I can't walk!"
+
+Helen explained, with the pride of one displaying her own
+handiwork: "Mr. Speed defends the Flying Heart to-morrow. You are
+just in time to see him."
+
+"When did you learn to box, Wally?" Covington was genuinely
+amazed.
+
+"I'm not going to box. It's a footrace. I'm training--been
+training ever since I arrived."
+
+In his first bewilderment the latecomer might have unwittingly
+betrayed his friend had not Jean suddenly inquired:
+
+"Where is Roberta?"
+
+"Roberta!" Covington tripped over one of his crutches. "Roberta
+who?"
+
+"Why, Roberta Keap, of course! She's chaperoning us while mother
+is away."
+
+The hero of countless field-days turned pale, and seemed upon the
+point of hobbling back to "Nigger Mike's" buck-board.
+
+"You and she are old friends, I believe?" Helen interposed.
+
+"_Yes!_ Oh yes!" Culver flashed his chum a look of dumb
+entreaty, but Speed was staring round-eyed into space, striving
+to read the future.
+
+Helen started to fetch her just as the pallid chaperon was
+entering the door.
+
+She shook hands with Covington. She observed that he was too
+deeply affected at sight of her to speak, and it awakened fresh
+misgivings in her mind.
+
+"H-how d'y do! I didn't know you were--here!" he stammered.
+
+"I thought it would surprise you!" Roberta smiled wanly, amazed
+at her own self-control, then froze in her tracks as Jean
+announced:
+
+"Jack will be home to-night, Culver. He'll be delighted to see
+you!"
+
+J. Wallingford Speed offered a diversion by bursting into a
+hollow laugh. Now that the world was in league to work his own
+downfall, it was time someone else had a touch of suffering. To
+this end he inquired how the toe had come to be broken.
+
+"I broke it in Omaha--automobile accident." Culver was fighting
+to master himself.
+
+"Omaha! Did you stop in Omaha?" inquired Jean.
+
+"A city of beautiful women," Speed reflected, audibly. "Somebody
+step on your foot at a dance?"
+
+"No, of course not! I don't know anybody in Omaha! I went
+motoring--"
+
+"Joy-ride?"
+
+"Not at all."
+
+"Who was with you?" Miss Chapin's voice was ominously sweet.
+
+"N--nobody I knew."
+
+"Does that mean that you were alone?"
+
+"Yes. I stopped off between trains to view the city, and took a
+'Seeing Omaha' ride. The yap wagon upset, and--I broke my toe."
+
+"You left Chicago ten days ago," said Speed accusingly.
+
+"Of course, but--when I broke my toe I had to stay. It's a
+beautiful city--lots of fine buildings." "How did you like the
+jail?"
+
+"What in the world are you boys talking about?" queried Miss
+Blake.
+
+"Mr. Speed seems amused at Culver's accident." Roberta gave him a
+stinging look. "Now we'd better let Culver go to his room and
+freshen up a bit. I want to talk to you, Helen," and Speed
+drooped at the meaning behind her words. But it was time for a
+general conference; events were shaping themselves too rapidly
+for him to cope with. Once the three were alone he lost no time
+in making his predicament known, the while his friend listened in
+amazement.
+
+"But is it really so serious?" the latter asked, finally.
+
+"It's life or death. There's a homocidal maniac named Willie
+guarding me daytimes, and a pair of renegades who keep watch at
+my window all night. The cowboys bathe me in ice-water to toughen
+me, and feed me raw meat to make me wild. In every corner there
+lurks an assassin with orders to shoot me if I break training,
+every where I go some low-browed criminal feels my biceps,
+pinches my legs, and asks how my wind is. I tell you, I'm going
+mad."
+
+"And the worst part of it is," spoke Glass, sympathetically,
+"they'll bump me off first. It's a pipe."
+
+"But, Wally, you can't run."
+
+"Don't I know it?"
+
+"Don't _I_?" seconded the trainer.
+
+"Then why attempt the impossible? Call the race off."
+
+"It's too late. Don't you understand? The bets are made, and its
+'pay or play.' The cowboys have mortgaged their souls on me."
+
+"He was makin' a play for that little doll--"
+
+"Don't you call Miss Blake a doll, Larry! I won't stand for it!"
+
+"Well, 'skirt,' then."
+
+"Why don't you cut it? There's a train East at midnight."
+
+"And leave Helen--like that? Her faith in me has weakened
+already; she'd hate me if I did that. No! I've got to face it
+out!"
+
+"They'll be singin' hymns for both of us," predicted the fat man.
+
+"I don't care. They can boil me in oil--I won't let her think I'm
+a coward."
+
+"Larry doesn't have to stay."
+
+"Of course not. He can escape."
+
+"Not a chance," said the trainer. "They watch me closer 'n they
+do him."
+
+Covington considered for a moment. "It certainly looks bad, but
+perhaps the other fellow can't run either. Who is he?"
+
+"A cook named Skinner."
+
+"Happy name! Well, two-thirds of a sprint is in the start. How
+does Wally get in motion, Lawrence?"
+
+"Like a sacred ox." Glass could not conceal his contempt.
+
+"I'll give him some pointers; it will all help." But Speed was
+nervous and awkward--so awkward, in fact, that the coach finally
+gave it up as a bad job, saying:
+
+"It's no use, Wally, you've got fool feet."
+
+"I have, eh? Well, I didn't break them getting out of jail."
+
+"The less said about that jail the better. I'm in trouble
+myself."
+
+Speed might have explained that his chum's dilemma was by no
+means so serious as he imagined, had not watchman Willie thrust
+his head through the open window at that moment with the remark:
+
+"Time to get busy!"
+
+"We'll be right with you!" Glass seized his protege by the arm
+and bore him away, muttering: "Stick it out, brother, we're
+nearin' the end!"
+
+Again Speed donned his running-suit and took to the road for his
+farewell practise. Again Willie followed at a distance on
+horseback, watching the hills warily. But all hope had fled from
+the Yale man now, and he returned to his training-quarters
+disheartened, resigned.
+
+He was not resigned, however, to the visit he received later from
+Miss Helen Blake. That young lady rushed in upon him like a
+miniature cyclone, sweeping him off his feet by the fury of her
+denunciation, allowing him no opportunity to speak, until, with a
+half-sob, she demanded:
+
+"Why--why did you deceive me?"
+
+"I love you!" Wally said, as if no further explanation were
+necessary.
+
+"That explains nothing. You made sport of me! You couldn't love
+me and do that!"
+
+"Helen!"
+
+"I thought you were so fine, so strong, but you lied--yes, that
+is what you did! You fibbed to me the first day I met you, and
+you've been fibbing ever since. I could never, never care for a
+man who would do that."
+
+"Who has told you these things?"
+
+"Roberta, for one. She opened my eyes to your--baseness."
+
+"Well, Roberta has a grudge against my sex. She's engaged to all
+the men she hasn't already married. Marriage is a habit with her.
+It has made her suspicious--"
+
+"But you did deceive me, didn't you?"
+
+"Will you marry me?" asked J. Wallingford Speed.
+
+"The idea!" Miss Blake gasped. "Will you?"
+
+"Please don't speak that way. When a man cares for a woman, he
+doesn't deceive her--he tells her everything. You told me you
+were a great runner, and I believed you. I'll never believe you
+again. Of course, I shall behave to you in a perfectly friendly
+manner, but underneath the surface I shall be consumed with
+indignation." Miss Blake commenced to be consumed. "See! You
+don't acknowledge your perfidy even now."
+
+"What's the use? If I said I couldn't run, and then beat the
+cook, you'd believe I deceived you again. And suppose that I
+can't beat him?"
+
+"Then I shall know they have told me the truth."
+
+"And if, on the other hand, I should win"--Miss Blake's eyes
+fell--"Helen, would you marry me?" Speed started toward her, but
+she had fled out into the twilight.
+
+Dusk was settling over stretches of purple land, and already the
+room was peopled by shadows. Work was over; there were sounds of
+cheerful preparations for supper; from the house came faint
+chords of laughter; a Spanish song floated in, as Carara told his
+love to the tune of Mariedetta's guitar:
+
+   "'Adios! adios! adios! por siempre,
+   Adios! coqueta, mi amor;
+   Adios! adios! adios! por siempre,
+   Adios! coqueta, mi amor!'"
+
+It was the hush that precedes the evening as it does the dawn;
+the hour of reverie, in which all music is sweet, and forgotten
+faces arise to haunt.
+
+Speed stood where the girl had left him, miserable, hopeless,
+helpless; the words of the Spanish song seemed sung for a lost
+love of his. And certainly his love was lost. He had stayed on in
+the stubborn superstitious belief that something would surely
+happen to relieve him from his predicament--fortune had never
+failed him before--and instead, every day, every incident, had
+served to involve him deeper. Now she knew! It was her golden
+heart that had held her true thus far, but could any devotion
+survive the sight of humiliation such as he would suffer on the
+morrow? Already he heard the triumphant jeers of the Centipede
+henchmen, the angry clamor of the Flying Heart, the mocking
+laughter of his rival.
+
+He groaned aloud. Forsooth, a broken toe! Of all the countless
+tens of thousands of toes in Christendom, the one he had hung his
+salvation upon had proven weaker than a reed. What cruel jest of
+Fate was this? If Fate had wished to break a toe, why had she not
+selected, out of all the billions at her disposal, that of some
+other athlete than Culver Covington--even his own.
+
+J. Wallingford Speed started suddenly and paled. He had
+remembered that no one could force a crippled man to run.
+
+"By Jove," he exclaimed, "I'll do it!"
+
+He crossed quickly to the bunk-house door and looked in. The room
+was empty. The supper-bell pealed out, and he heard the cow-men
+answer it. Now was the appointed moment; he might have no other.
+With cat-like tread he slipped into the sleeping-quarters,
+returning in a moment with a revolver. He stared thankfully at
+the weapon--better this than dishonor.
+
+"Why didn't I think of it before? It's perfectly simple. I'll
+accidentally shoot myself--in the foot."
+
+But even as he gazed at the gun he saw that the muzzle was as
+large as a gopher-hole. A bullet of that size would sink a ship,
+he meditated in a panic, and as for his foot--what frightful
+execution it would work! But--it were better to lose a foot than
+a foot-race, under present conditions, so he began to unlace his
+shoe. Then realizing the value of circumstantial evidence, he
+paused. No! His disability must bear all the earmarks of an
+accident. He must guess the location of his smallest and least
+important toe, and trust the rest to his marksmanship. Visions of
+blood-poisoning beset him, and when he pressed the muzzle against
+the point of his shoe his hand shook with such a palsy that he
+feared he might miss. He steeled himself with the thought that
+other men had snuffed out life itself in this manner, then sat
+down upon the floor and cocked the weapon a second time. He
+wondered if the shock might, by any chance, numb him into
+unconsciousness. If so, he might bleed to death before assistance
+arrived. But he had nothing to do with that. The only question
+was, which foot. He regarded them both tenderly. They were nice
+feet, and had done him many favors. He loved every toe; they were
+almost like innocent children. It was a dastardly deed to take
+advantage of them thus, but he advanced the revolver until it
+pressed firmly against the outside of his left foot, then closed
+his eyes, and called upon his courage. There came a great roaring
+in his ears.
+
+How long he sat thus waiting for the explosion he did not know,
+but he opened his eyes at length to find the foot still intact,
+and the muzzle of the weapon pointing directly at his instep. He
+altered his aim hurriedly, when, without warning of any sort, a
+man's figure appeared silhouetted against the window.
+
+The figure dropped noiselessly to the floor inside the room, and
+cried, in a strange voice:
+
+"Lock those doors! Quick!"
+
+Finding that it was no hallucination, Speed rose, calling out:
+
+"Who are you?"
+
+"Sh-h-h!" The stranger darted across the room and bolted both
+doors, while the other felt a chill of apprehension at these
+sinister precautions. He grasped his revolver firmly while his
+heart thumped. The fellow's appearance was anything but
+reassuring: he was swarthy and sun-browned, his clothes were
+ragged, his overalls were patched; instead of a coat, he wore a
+loosely flapping vest over a black sateen shirt, long since
+rusted out to a nondescript brown.
+
+"I've been trying to get to you for a week," announced the
+mysterious visitor hoarsely.
+
+"W-what do you want? Who are you?"
+
+"I'm Skinner, cook for the Centipede."
+
+"The man I race?"
+
+"Not so loud." Skinner was training for the faintest sound from
+the direction of the mess-house.
+
+"I'll kill him!" exulted the Eastern lad. But the other
+forestalled a murder by running on, rapidly:
+
+"Listen, now! Humpy and I jobbed this gang last month; we're
+pardners, see? He's got another race framed at Pocatello, and I
+want to make a get-away--"
+
+"Yes! yes! y-you needn't stay here--on my account."
+
+"Now don't let's take any chances to-morrow, see? We're both out
+for the coin. What do you want to do--win or lose?" Skinner
+jumped back to the door and listened.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Don't stall!" the stranger cried, impatiently. "Will I win or
+will you? What's it worth?" He clipped his words short, his eyes
+darted furtive glances here and there.
+
+"Can _I_ win?" gasped Speed.
+
+"You can if there's enough in it for me. I'm broke, see? You bet
+five hundred, and we'll cut it two ways."
+
+"I-I haven't that much with me."
+
+"Borrow it. Don't be a boob. Meet me in Albuquerque Sunday, and
+we'll split there."
+
+"Is that all I have to do?"
+
+"Certainly. What's the matter with you, anyhow?" Skinner cast a
+suspicious glance at his companion.
+
+"I-I guess I'm rattled--it's all so sudden."
+
+"Of course you'll have to run, fast enough so we don't tip off."
+
+"How fast is that?"
+
+"Oh, ten-four," carelessly. "That's what Humpy and I did."
+
+"Ten and four-fifths-seconds?"
+
+"Certainly. Don't kid me! They're liable to break in on us."
+Skinner stepped to the window, but Speed halted him with a
+trembling hand and a voice of agony.
+
+"Mr. Skinner, I-I can't run that fast. F-fifteen is going some
+for me."
+
+"What!" Skinner stared at his opponent strangely. "That's right.
+I'm a lemon."
+
+"Ain't you the Yale champ? The guy that goes under 'even time'?"
+
+Wally shook his head. "I'm his chum. I couldn't catch a cramp."
+
+The brown face of the Centipede sprinter split into a grin, his
+eyes gleamed. "Then I'll win," said he. "I'm the sucker, but I'll
+make good. Get your money down, and I'll split with you."
+
+"No, no! Not you! Me! _I_ must win!" Speed clutched his
+caller desperately.
+
+"All right, I'll frame anything; but I can't run any slower than
+I did with Joe and make a live of it. They'd shoot us both."
+
+"But there's a girl in this-a girl I love. It means more than
+mere life."
+
+Skinner was plainly becoming nervous at the length of the
+interview.
+
+"Couldn't you fall down?" inquired the younger man, timidly.
+
+The cook laughed derisively. "I could fall down twice and beat
+you in fifteen." After an instant's thought:
+
+"Say, there's one chance, if we don't run straight away. There's
+a corral out where we race; you insist on running around it, see?
+There's nothing in the articles about straight-aways. That'll kid
+'em on the time. If I get too far ahead, I'll fall down."
+
+"B-but will you stay down? Till I catch up?"
+
+"Sure! Leave it to me."
+
+"You won't forget, or anything like that?"
+
+"Certainly not. But no rough work in front of the cowboys,
+understand? Sh-h!"
+
+Skinner vaulted lightly through the window, landing in the dirt
+outside without a sound. "Somebody coming," he whispered.
+"Understand Merchants' Hotel, Albuquerque, noon, Sunday." And the
+next instant he had vanished into the dusk, leaving behind him a
+youth half hysterical with hope.
+
+Out of the blackest gloom had come J. Wallingford Speed's
+deliverance, and he did not pause to consider the ethics
+involved. If he had he would have told himself that by Skinner's
+own confession the Centipede had won through fraud at the first
+race; if they were paid back in their own coin now it would be no
+more than tardy justice. With light heart he hastened to replace
+the borrowed revolver in the bunk-room just as voices coming
+nearer betokened the arrival of his friends from the house. As he
+stepped out into the night he came upon Jack Chapin.
+
+"Hello, Wally!"
+
+"Hello, Jack!" They shook hands, while the owner of the Flying
+Heart continued.
+
+"I've just got in, and they've been telling me about this foot-
+race. What in the deuce is the matter with you, anyhow? Why
+didn't you let me know?"
+
+The girls drew closer, and Speed saw that Miss Blake was pale.
+
+"I wouldn't have allowed it for a minute. Now, of course, I'm
+going to call it off."
+
+"Oh, Jack, dear, you simply can't!" exclaimed his sister. "You've
+no idea the state the boys are in."
+
+"They'll never let you, Chapin," supplemented Fresno.
+
+The master laughed shortly. "They won't, eh? Who is boss here,
+I'd like to know?"
+
+"They've bet a lot of money. And you know how they feel about
+that phonograph."
+
+"It's the most idiotic thing I ever heard of. Whatever possessed
+you, Wally? If the men make a row, I'll have to smuggle you and
+Glass over to the railroad to-night."
+
+"I'm for that," came the voice of Larry.
+
+"I suppose it's all my fault," Miss Blake began wretchedly,
+whereat the object of their general solicitude took on an aspect
+of valor.
+
+"Say, what is all this fuss about? I don't want to be smuggled
+anywhere, thank you!"
+
+"I may not be able to square my men," Chapin reiterated. "It may
+have gone too far."
+
+"Square! Square! Why should you do any squaring? I'm not going to
+run-away." Miss Blake clasped her hands and breathed a sigh.
+"I've got to stay here and run a foot-race to-morrow."
+
+"Don't be a fool, Wally!" Covington added his voice to the
+others.
+
+Speed whirled angrily. "I don't need your advice--convict!" The
+champion hobbled hastily out of range. "I know what I'm doing.
+I'm going to run to-morrow, and I stand a good chance to win."
+
+Mr. Fresno, if he had been a girl, would have been said to have
+giggled.
+
+"All right, _Dearie_! I'll bet you five hundred dollars--"
+as there emerged from the darkness, whence they had approached
+unseen, Stover, and behind him the other men.
+
+"Evenin'! What's all the excitement?" greeted the leader, softly.
+
+The master of the ranch stepped forward.
+
+"See here, Bill, I'm sorry, but I won't stand for this foot-
+race."
+
+"Why not?" queried the foreman.
+
+"I just won't, that's all. You'll have to call it off."
+
+"I'm sorry, too."
+
+"You refuse?" The owner spoke ominously.
+
+"You bet he does!" Willie pushed himself forward. "This foot-race
+is ordained, and it comes off on time. I make bold to inquire if
+you're talkin' for our runner?"
+
+"Gentlemen, I can only say to you that for myself I want to run!"
+declared Speed.
+
+"Then you'll run."
+
+"I refuse to allow it," Chapin declared, and instantly there was
+an angry murmur; but before it could take definite form, Speed
+spoke up with equal decisiveness.
+
+"You can't refuse to let me run, Jack. There are reasons"--he
+searched Miss Blake's countenance--"why I must run--and win. And
+win I shall!" Turning, he stalked away into the darkness, and
+there followed him a shout of approbation from the ranchmen.
+
+Jack Chapin threw up his hands.
+
+"I've done my best."
+
+"The man's mad!" cried Covington, but Fresno was nearer the
+truth. "Nothing of the sort," he remarked, and struck a match;
+"he's bluffing!"
+
+As for Helen Blake, she shook her fair head and smiled into the
+night.
+
+"You are all wrong," she said. "_I_ know!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+The day of the race dawned bright and fair, without a cloud to
+mar its splendor. As the golden morning wore on, a gradual
+excitement became apparent among the cowboys, increasing as the
+hours passed, and as they prepared with joy to invade their
+rival's territory; nevertheless, the vigilant watch upon their
+champion did not relax. Theirs was an attitude of confidence
+tinged with caution.
+
+It was some time after midnight that Lawrence Glass had been the
+cause of a wild alarm that brought the denizens of the ranch out
+in night apparel. Jack Chapin, awakened by a cry for help, had
+found him in the hands of Carara and Cloudy, who had been doing
+night duty in accordance with Stover's orders. What with the
+trainer's loud complaints, the excited words of his captors, and
+the confusion resulting when the bunk-house emptied itself of men
+half clad, it had taken the ranch-owner some time to discover
+that Glass had been surprised in the act of escaping. It seemed
+that the sentries, seeing a figure skulking past the white adobe
+walls of the house, had called upon it to halt. There had been a
+dash for liberty, then a furious struggle before the intruder's
+identity became clear, and but for Chapin's prompt arrival upon
+the scene violence would inevitably have resulted. As it was, the
+owner had difficulty in restraining his men, who saw in this
+significant effort a menace to their hopes.
+
+"I tell you, I'm walkin' in my sleep," declared Glass for the
+twentieth time.
+
+"_Caramba!_ You try for get away," stormed the Mexican.
+"Pig!"
+
+"Not a bit like it! I've been a sonnambulust ever since I'm a
+baby."
+
+"Why didn't you answer when we called?" Cloudy demanded.
+
+"How can I talk when I'm sound asleep?"
+
+"If you couldn't hear us call, why did you run?"
+
+"Now have a little sense, pal. A sleep-walker don't know what
+he's doin'."
+
+"Since there's no harm done, you'd better all go back to bed,"
+Chapin advised. "Mr. Glass has the liberty of the ranch, boys,
+night or day, asleep or awake."
+
+"Looks to me like he was tryin' to elope some." Stover balanced
+upon one bare foot, and undertook to remove a sand-burr from the
+other. In the darkness he seemed supernaturally tall, so that
+Glass hastened to strengthen his story.
+
+"I was walkin' in my sleep as nice as you please when those
+rummies lep' on me. Say! You know that's dangerous; you can kill
+a guy wakin' him up so sudden."
+
+"There's easier ways than that," spoke Willie from the gloom.
+
+"It's a yap trick just the same. I was in the middle of a swell
+dream, too."
+
+"Come, come, Stover, get your boys back to bed! We'll have the
+whole ranch up with this noise."
+
+Chapin himself led Glass around the house, while that gentleman
+made no offer to explain the dream which had prompted him to pack
+his suit-case before letting himself out of the training-
+quarters. Once safely back in the gymnasium, he sat up till dawn,
+a prey to frightful visions which the comfortable morning light
+did not serve to dissipate.
+
+Wally Speed slept serenely through the whole disturbance, and was
+greatly amused at the story when he awoke. He was sorely tempted
+to make known his agreement with Skinner, and put an end to his
+trainer's agony of mind; but he recalled Skinner's caution, and
+reflected that the slightest indiscretion might precipitate a
+tragedy. For the first time since the beginning of the adventure
+he was perfectly at ease, and the phenomenon added to his
+trainer's dismay.
+
+Others beside Lawrence Glass were apprehensive. Culver Covington,
+for instance, was plainly upset, while Roberta Keap pleaded
+headache and had her breakfast served in her room.
+
+It was shortly afterward that she appeared in the gymnasium
+doorway, and cried, in an accusing voice:
+
+"Well, Mr. Speed!"
+
+"Yes, quite well."
+
+"You traitor!"
+
+"You modern Borgia! Didn't you go and tell Helen everything?"
+
+"Didn't you promise to stop Culver?"
+
+"I did. I had him thrown in jail at Omaha. What more could I do?"
+
+"You _did_ try? Honestly?" Mrs. Keap allowed her indignation
+to abate slightly. "If I had known that, I wouldn't have told
+Helen. I'm sorry you didn't explain. I was angry--furious. And I
+was frightened so!" She broke down suddenly. "What shall I do
+about them? I can see what they want to say, and yet I daren't
+let either speak a word."
+
+"Mrs. Keap, are you sure Culver loves you?"
+
+"Horribly! And he suspects the truth. I saw him change the moment
+he found me here." Roberta began to weep; two limpid tears stole
+down her cheeks, she groped for a chair, and Wally hastened to
+her assistance. As he supported her, she gave way completely and
+bowed her head upon his shoulder.
+
+It was in perfect keeping with the luck of things that Miss Blake
+should enter at the moment. She had come with Jack and his sister
+to inquire regarding the fitness of her champion and to nerve him
+for the contest, and she stood aghast. Chapin stepped forward
+with a look of suspicion, inquiring:
+
+"What's going on here?"
+
+Miss Blake spoke brightly, tinkling ice in her voice.
+
+"There's no necessity for an explanation, is there? It seems time
+for congratulations."
+
+"Oh, see here now! Mrs. Keap's really engaged to Culver, you
+know."
+
+"Culver!"
+
+"Culver!"
+
+Both the young ranchman and his sister stared at the chaperon
+with growing horror, while she undertook to explain; but the blow
+had fallen so swiftly that her words were incoherent, and in the
+midst of them her hostess turned and fled from the room.
+
+"Now don't begin to aviate until you understand the truth," Speed
+continued. "While she's engaged to that broken-toed serpent, she
+doesn't love him, do you see?" He smiled.
+
+"I do _not_ see!"
+
+"It was simply a habit Mrs. Keap had got into--I should say it
+was an impulsive engagement that she has repented of."
+
+"No doubt she was repenting when we interrupted you," said Miss
+Blake, bitterly.
+
+Then Chapin added, helplessly: "But Culver is engaged to my
+sister Jean!"
+
+"Jean!" Mrs. Keap exposed her tragic face. "Then--he deceived
+_me_! Oh-h! What wretches men are!" The widow commenced to
+sob.
+
+Outside came Miss Chapin's voice: "So here you are, Mr.
+Covington!" And the next moment she reappeared, dragging the
+crippled champion behind her. Thrusting him toward Roberta, she
+pouted: "There, Mrs. Keap! I give him back to you."
+
+"Perhaps you'd better go on with your explanations," Chapin
+suggested, coldly, to Speed.
+
+"How can I when you won't listen to me? Hear ye! Hear ye! Culver
+was engaged to marry Mrs. Keap, but she discovered what a
+reprobate he is--"
+
+There was indistinguishable dissent of some sort from Mr.
+Covington.
+
+"--and she learned to detest him!"
+
+Mrs. Keap likewise dissented in accents muffled.
+
+"Well, she would have learned to detest him in a short time,
+because she's in love with Jack Chapin; so she came to old Doctor
+Speed in her troubles, and he promised to fix it all up. Now I
+guess you four can do the rest of the explaining. Let this be a
+lesson to all of you. If you ever get in trouble, come to the
+match-making kid. I'll square it."
+
+They were four happy young people, and they lost no time in
+escaping elsewhere. When they had gone, their benefactor said to
+Miss Blake:
+
+"Wouldn't you like to make that a triple wedding? We might get
+club rates."
+
+For answer Miss Blake hurried to the door and was gone.
+
+Over at the Centipede there was a great activity and yet a
+certain idleness also, as if it had been a holiday. The men hung
+about in groups listening to the peripatetic phonograph. A dozen
+or more outsiders had ridden over from the post-office to witness
+the contest. Out by the corral, which stood close to the first
+break of the foot-hills, Skinner was superintending the laying
+out of a course, selecting a stretch of level ground worn smooth
+and hard by the tread of countless hoofs.
+
+"Makes a pretty good track, eh?" he said to Gallagher. "I wonder
+how fast this feller is? Ever heard?"
+
+"They seem to think he's a whirlin' ball of fire, but that don't
+worry you none, does it?" Gallagher bent his lead-blue eyes upon
+the cook, who shrugged carelessly, and Gallagher smiled; he was
+forced to admit that his man did not appear to be one easily
+frightened. Skinner's face was hard, his lips thin, his jaw was
+not that of a weakling. He had dressed early, then wrapped a
+horse-blanket about his shoulders, and now, casting this aside,
+sprinted down the dirt track for a few yards to test the footing,
+while Gallagher watched him with satisfaction--a thing of steel
+and wire, as tough, as agile, and as spirited as a range-raised
+cow-pony. He was unshaven, his running-trunks were cut from a
+pair of overalls, held up at the waist by a section of window-
+cord, and his chest was scantily covered by an undershirt from
+which the sleeves had been pulled. But when he returned to pick
+up his blanket Gallagher noted approvingly that he was not even
+breathing heavily. With a knowledge confined mainly to live-
+stock, the foremen inquried:
+
+"How's your laigs? I like to see 'em hairy, that-a-way; it's a
+sign of stren'th. I bet this college boy is as pink as a maiden's
+palm! He don't look to me like he could run."
+
+"They fool you sometimes," said Skinner. "By-the-way, what have
+you bet?"
+
+"We laid the phonograph agin their treasures an' trappin's--"
+
+"But how much money?"
+
+"We got three hundred pesos down, but they sent word they was
+comin' loaded for b'ar, so we rustled five hundred more."
+
+Skinner's eyes gleamed. "I wish I had a couple of hundred to bet
+on myself."
+
+"Broke, eh?"
+
+"I'm as clean as a hound's tooth."
+
+"I'm sorry y'all tossed off your wages, but"--Gallagher started
+suspiciously--"say! I reckon that won't affect your runnin' none,
+will it?"
+
+Skinner admitted that he could run best when he had something to
+run for. "You might advance me a month's wages," he reflected.
+
+"I'll do it. Hello! Say, ain't that one of them Flyin' Heart city
+visitors?" From the direction of the ranch buildings Berkeley
+Fresno was approaching.
+
+"Good-afternoon! You are Mr. Gallagher, I believe? I rode over
+with our crowd just now." Fresno looked back. "Let's step around
+to the other side of the corral; I want to talk to you." He led
+the way; then inquired, "Is this your runner?"
+
+"That's him. His name's Skinner, and that's a promisin' title to
+bet on." Gallagher slipped a roll of bank-notes from his pocket.
+"Unhook! I'll bet you."
+
+"No, no! I think myself Mr. Skinner will win. That's why I'm
+here."
+
+"Strip your hand, son. I don't savvy."
+
+And Fresno explained.
+
+"You see, I'm a guest over there; but there's no sentiment with
+me in money matters." He produced a wallet, and took from it five
+one-hundred-dollar bills. "Bet this for me, and don't let on
+where it came from. I'll see you after the race. Mind you, not a
+word!"
+
+"I'm dumb as the Egyptian Spinks."
+
+"This race means a lot to me, Mr. Skinner." The guest of the
+Flying Heart Ranch turned to its enemy. "There's a girl in it.
+Understand?" The cook showed the gleam of his teeth. "If you win,
+I'll send you some wedding-cake and--a box of cigars."
+
+"Thanks," said the other; "but I've got a bum tooth, and I don't
+smoke."
+
+As Fresno left, there approached, in a surging group, the
+opposing side.
+
+"Good-evenin', Gabby!" Stover called, loudly, as he came within
+speaking distance. "Here we come _en massay_, and with
+ladies, to further embarrass and degrade you in the hour of your
+defeat!"
+
+"We ain't defeated yit! How do, Mr. Chapin."
+
+"Did you get our message?"
+
+"Yes. But we ain't seen the color of y'all's money."
+
+"Mr. Speed borrowed five hundred dollars from me, and said he
+might want more," Chapin volunteered.
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"All?" jeered Still Bill. "Why, this mangy layout ain't never saw
+that much money," upon which Gallagher carelessly displayed a
+corpulent roll of bills, remarking:
+
+"Count a thousand, Bill. It all goes on Skinner."
+
+"I ain't heard of no train-robbery," muttered the lanky foreman
+of the Flying Heart, "nor I don't aim to handle no' tainted
+money." And Stover and Gallagher faced each other hard before
+turning.
+
+Jean saw it, and whispered to Chapin: "Oh, Jack dear, I'm
+terribly frightened!" But Helen Blake, who overheard, left her
+companions and went straight to Gallagher.
+
+"I should like," she said, "to wager a few dollars on Mr. Speed
+and the honor of the Flying Heart."
+
+Both Skinner and his foreman stared at her nonplussed.
+
+"You don't look like a bettin' lady," the latter managed to
+remark, jocularly.
+
+"I'm not, I never made a wager before in all my life; but you
+see, Mr. Gallagher, I believe in our man." Gallagher lowered his
+eyes. "How much do you aim to risk, miss?"
+
+"I don't know what the rules are, but I think our side ought to
+bet as much as your side. That is the way it is done, isn't it?"
+
+"You mean that you aim to cover what Mr. Speed don't?" The girl
+nodded.
+
+Gallagher spoke admiringly. "You're right game, miss, but I
+reckon we don't want your money."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I suppose there ain't no partic'lar reason."
+
+"If Mr. Speed can beat Mr. Covington, who is the best runner at
+Yale, I'm sure he can defeat Mr. Skinner, who never went to
+college at all. They have all turned against him, and he-he is so
+brave!" Miss Blake's indignation was tearful, and Gallagher spoke
+hurriedly:
+
+"He may be brave all right, miss, but he can't win unless Skinner
+dies. You save your money to buy chocolates an' bon-mots, miss.
+Why, listen" (the stock man softened his voice in a fatherly
+manner): "this Fresno party is wise; five hundred of this coin is
+his."
+
+Helen uttered a cry. "Do you mean he is betting _against_
+Mr. Speed?"
+
+"Nothin' else."
+
+"Despicable!" breathed the girl. "Wait a moment, please!" Helen
+hurried back to Chapin, while Gallagher muttered something like
+"I ain't takin' no orphan's money."
+
+"Jack!" (the girl was trembling with excitement), "you told me on
+the way over that you had five hundred dollars with you. Let me
+have it, please. I'll give you my check when we get home."
+
+"My dear girl, you aren't going to--bet it?"
+
+"Yes, I am."
+
+"Don't do that!"
+
+For answer she snatched the pocket-book from his hand.
+
+"Mr. Gallagher!" she called.
+
+Skinner watched from afar. "Some class to that gal!" was what he
+said, which proved that he was a person not wholly without
+sentiment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+Speed leaped down from the buck-board in which Carara had driven
+him and Glass over to the Centipede corral.
+
+"I told you to jump out when we crossed that bridge," was Larry's
+reproach to him. "You could have broke your arm. Now--it's too
+late."
+
+But Speed joined his friends with the most cheerful of greetings.
+
+They responded nervously, shocked at his flippant assurance.
+
+"This, Mr. Speed, is the scene of your defeat!" Gallagher made
+the introduction.
+
+"And this is Mr. Skinner, no doubt?" Wally shook hands with the
+Centipede runner, who stared at him, refused to recognize his
+knowing wink, and turned away. "You think pretty well of
+yourself, don't you?" suggested Gallagher unpleasantly, and Speed
+laughed. There was no reason why he should not laugh. Either way
+his hour had come.
+
+"I s'pose that satchel is full of money?" Gallagher pointed to
+the suitcase.
+
+"On the contrary, it is full of clothes. It is I who contain the
+money." He thrust a cold palm into his pocket as Covington
+dragged him aside to advise him not to be an utter idiot, to
+throw his money away if he must, but to throw it to charity or to
+his friends.
+
+"Yes," Glass seconded, lugubriously, "and hold out enough to buy
+me a _Gates Ajar_ in immortelles." But he said also, as if
+to himself, "He may be wrong in the burr, but he's a game little
+guy."
+
+As the Centipede foreman counted the money, Helen came forward,
+announcing:
+
+"You'll _have_ to win now, won't you, Mr. Speed? I've
+wagered five hundred dollars on you. I bet against Mr. Fresno."
+"Fresno! So he's out from cover at last, eh?"
+
+"I haven't been under cover," spoke up the Californian. "I've
+been wise all along."
+
+Chapin wheeled. "Does it seem to you quite the thing to bet
+against our man, Fresno?" he inquired, his glance full in the
+other's eyes.
+
+"Why not? There's no sentiment in financial affairs."
+
+Speed shrugged. "Our tenor friend will sing his way back to
+California." He turned with his thanks to Helen.
+
+"The talkin'--machine!" interrupted Still Bill, suddenly. A group
+of men was approaching, who bore the phonogragh upon a dry-goods
+box, and deposited it in state beside the race-course. "Say,
+Gabby, s'pose you give us a tune, just to show she's in good
+order."
+
+"Suspicious, eh?"
+
+"You bet! There's a monologue I'd admire to hear. It's called-"
+
+"We'll have _The Holy City_," said Willie, positively. "It's
+more appropriate."
+
+So, with clumsy fingers, Gallagher fitted a record, then wound up
+the machine under the jealous eyes of the Flying Heart cowboys.
+
+Drawn by the sound, Skinner, wrapped to the chin in his blanket,
+idled toward the crowd, affording Glass a sight of his face for
+the first time. The latter started as if stung, and crying under
+his breath, "Salted car-horse!" drew his employer aside.
+
+
+
+"Say," he said, pointing a finger, "who's that?"
+
+"Skinner, the man I run."
+
+Glass groaned. "His name ain't Skinner; that's 'Whiz' Long. Six
+years ago I saw him win the Sheffield Handicap from scratch in
+nine-three." Then, as Speed did not seem to be particularly
+pressed, "Don't you understand, Wally? He's a pro; this is his
+game!"
+
+To which the younger man replied, serenely and happily, "It's
+fixed."
+
+"What's fixed?"
+
+"The race. It' s all arranged--framed."
+
+"Who framed it? How? When?"
+
+"Sh-h! I did. Yesterday; by stealth; I fixed it."
+
+"You win from 'Whiz' Long, and you can't run under fifteen?"
+
+Wally nodded. "I told him that--it's all right."
+
+"You told him?" Glass staggered. "It's all right? Say! Don't you
+know he's the fastest, crookedest, cheatingest, double-
+crossingest--why, he just came to feel you out!"
+
+And Speed turned dizzy.
+
+"And you fell for that old stuff!" Larry's voice was trembling
+with anger and disgust. "Why, that's part of his 'work.' He's
+double-crossed every runnin' mate he ever had. He'd cheat his
+mother. Wait!"
+
+Skinner had left the crowd, and was seated now in the shade of
+the corral fence. He glanced upward from beneath his black brows
+as Larry reached and greeted him. "Hello, Whiz! I just 'made'
+you--" Then he shook his head.
+
+"I haven't got you. My name is Skinner."
+
+"Nix on that monaker," Glass smiled, indulgently. "I had a man in
+that Sheffield Handicap six years ago."
+
+"You're in bad," asserted the cook steadily, "but assuming that
+my name _is_ Long--"
+
+"I didn't say your name was 'Long.' I called you 'Whiz.'" Glass
+chuckled at the point as he scored it. "Now come in; be good."
+
+Skinner darted a look toward Gallagher and the Centipede men
+gathered about the shrilling phonograph, stooped and tied his
+shoes, and breathed softly:
+
+"Spiel!"
+
+"This little feller I'm trainin'--does he win?"
+
+Without an upward glance, Skinner inquired:
+
+"Did the man you trained for the Sheffield Handicap win?"
+
+"Never mind that. Does this frame-up go through?" It happened
+that Speed, drawn irresistibly, had come forward to hang upon
+every word, and now chose this moment to interrupt.
+
+"It's all right, Mr. Skinner--" But Skinner leaped to his feet.
+
+"Don't try anything like that!" he cried, in a terrible voice
+that brought Gabby Gallagher striding toward them.
+
+"What's goin' on here? Are they try in' to fix you, Skinner?"
+
+"Not a bit like it," Glass protested stoutly. "I only asked him
+which side he'd rather run on, and now he calls for police
+protection."
+
+"Don't try it again, that's all!" the cook warned, sullenly.
+
+"I reckon I'll take a hand in this!" Gallagher was in a fine
+rage, and would have fallen upon the offender had not Stover
+stepped in his path.
+
+"I reckon you won't!" he said easily.
+
+The two glared at each other, and were standing thus when Speed
+and his trainer moved gently off. They made their way to the
+house in comparative silence. "I--I made a mistake," said Wally.
+
+"You've been jobbed like you was a baby," said Glass. "There
+ain't but one thing to do now. Go into the house and change your
+clothes, and when you get ready to run, get ready to run for your
+life--and mine." Over on the race-course Gallagher was inquiring:
+
+"Who's goin' to send these y'ere athaletes away?"
+
+"I am!" announced Willie without hesitation "Bein' perhaps the
+handiest man present with a weepon, I'm goin' to start this
+journey." He looked his foes squarely in the eyes. "Has anybody
+got objections to me?" The silence was nattering, and more loudly
+now, so that Skinner might hear, he added: "If your man tries to
+beat the gun, I'll have him wingin' his way to lands celestial
+before he makes his second jump."
+
+Gallagher acknowledged the fairness of this proposition. "This
+race is goin' to be squar'," said he. "We're ready when y'all
+are."
+
+J. Wallingford Speed stepped out of his clothes and into his
+silken running-suit. He was numb and cold. His hands performed
+their duties to be sure, but his brain was idle. All he knew was
+that he had been betrayed and all was lost. He heard Glass
+panting instructions into his ear, but they made no impression
+upon him. In a dull trance he followed his trainer back to the
+track, his eyes staring, his bones like water. Not until he heard
+the welcoming shout of the Flying Heart henchmen did he realize
+that the worst was yet to come. He heard Larry still coaching
+earnestly: "If you can't bite him, trip him up," and some one
+said:
+
+"Are we ready?"
+
+Glass held out his hand. "Good-bye, Mr. Speed."
+
+Chapin came forward and spoke with artificial heartiness, "Good-
+luck, Wally; beat him at the start," and Covington followed.
+
+"Remember," he cautioned, sadly, "what I told you about the
+start--it's your only chance."
+
+"Why don't you fellows think about the finish of this race?"
+faltered the runner.
+
+Then, in a voice broken with excitement, Helen Blake spoke,
+holding out her hand for a good-bye clasp. "Dear Mr. Speed," she
+said, "will you try to remember this?--remember to run before he
+does, and don't let him catch up to you. If you do that, I just
+_know_ you'll win."
+
+This magnificent display of confidence nerved the athlete, and he
+smiled at her. He wished to speak, but dared not trust himself.
+
+Gallagher was calling; so he went to the starting-point, whence
+he surveyed the course. There it lay, no more than a lane leading
+down between ranks of brown-faced men whose eyes were turned upon
+him. On the top rail of the corral perched Willie, revolver in
+hand. The babble of voices ceased, the strident laughter stilled,
+Speed heard the nervous Tustle of feminine skirts. Skinner was
+standing like a statue, his toe to the mark, his eyes averted.
+
+"You'll start here and run a hundred yards out yonder to the
+tape," Gallagher announced.
+
+"I refuse!" said Speed firmly.
+
+For one breathless instant there was a hush of amazement, then a
+cry of rage. Still Bill Stover hurled the nearest man out of his
+path, and stode forward, his lean face ablaze. He wheeled and
+flung up his hand as if to check some hidden movement of
+Willie's.
+
+
+
+"No voylence yet, Will! What d'you mean, Mr. Speed?"
+
+Speed uttered what he knew was his final joke on earth. "I mean
+that I refuse to run straightaway. I'm an all-around athlete, and
+I must run all around something."
+
+Amid shouts of confusion, those who had taken positions along the
+course came crowding back to the starting-point. Willie wrapped
+his legs about the top rail of the fence and drew a second
+revolver, while the two foremen bellowed indistinguishable
+threats at each other. Chapin lost no time in withdrawing his
+guests out of the turmoil, but Helen kept her place, her face
+chalky but her eyes very bright.
+
+"What are you tryin' to hand us?" roared Gallagher.
+
+Still Bill was quick to take a cue. "Don't get hectic!" said he.
+"There's nothin' in the articles about runnin' straight. Let 'em
+run around the corral." But at this suggestion every voice seemed
+to break out simultaneously.
+
+"Humpy Joe ran straightaway," declared Gallagher.
+
+"Yes, an' he kept at it," piped Willie. "I favor the idea of them
+runners comin' back where they start from."
+
+"Listen, all of you," Speed announced. "I am going to run around
+and around and around this corral. If Mr. Skinner chooses to
+accompany me, he may trail along; otherwise I shall run alone."
+
+"Never heerd of such a thing!" Gallagher was dancing in his
+excitement, but Skinner calmed him by announcing, curtly:
+
+"I'll beat him any way he wants to run."
+
+"You couldn't beat a rug," retorted Wally, and Glass suddenly
+smote his palms together, crying, blankly:
+
+"I forgot the rug!"
+
+"We don't want no arg'ment afterwards. Does the Centipede accept
+its fate?" Still Bill glared at the faces ringed about him.
+
+"We do if Skinner says so."
+
+"Twice around the corral," agreed Skinner. "But no accidents,
+understand? If he falls, I keep going."
+
+Instantly there ensued a scramble for grand-stand seats; the
+cowboys swarmed like insects upon the stout fence of the corral.
+
+"Then you'll start and finish here. Once y'all pass we'll stretch
+a string to yonder post, and the first man to bust it wins. Who's
+got a string?"
+
+"Mr. Gallagher, won't you use my sash?" Helen quickly unfastened
+the long blue bow of ribbon from her cotton gown, and Gallagher
+thanked her, adding:
+
+"Moreover, the winner gets it!"
+
+For the first time, then, Skinner addressed Miss Blake.
+
+"Hadn't you better make that the loser, miss? The winner gets the
+coin," and the assent came in a flashing smile from sky-blue
+eyes.
+
+"Then the loser gets the ribbon!" Gallagher announced loudly, and
+made one end fast to the corral. "Which I call han'some treatment
+for Mr. Speed, an' only wish we might retain it at the Centipede
+as a remembrance. Are the runners ready?"
+
+Those near the starting-line gave room. Skinner stepped quickly
+out from his blanket, and stamped his spikes into the soil; he
+raised and lowered himself on his toes to try his muscles. Speed
+drew his bath-robe from his shoulders and thrust it toward his
+trainer, who shook his head.
+
+"Give it to Covington, Bo; I won't be here when you come back."
+
+"Get on your marks!" The starter gave his order.
+
+Speed set his spikes into the dirt, brought his weight forward
+upon his hands. He whispered something to Skinner. That gentleman
+straightened up, whereupon Willie cried for a second time:
+
+"On your marks!" and again Skinner crouched.
+
+"Get set!"
+
+The crowd filled its lungs and waited. Helen Blake buried her
+nails in her rosy cold palms. Chapin and his friends were swayed
+by their heart-beats, while even Fresno was balanced upon his
+toes, his plump face eager. The click of Willie's gun sounded
+sharp as he cocked it.
+
+Into the ear close by his cheek Speed again whispered an
+agonized--
+
+"Don't forget to fall down!"
+
+This time the cook of the Centipede leaped backward with an angry
+snarl, while the crowd took breath.
+
+"Make him quit talking to me!" cried Skinner.
+
+Gallagher uttered an imprecation and strode forward, only to have
+his way once more barred by Still Bill Stover. "He can talk if he
+wants to."
+
+"There is nothing," Speed pointed out with dignity, "in the
+articles to forbid talking. If I wished to, I could sing. Yes, or
+whistle, if I felt like it."
+
+"_On your marks!"_ came the rasping voice of Willie as Wally
+murmured to Skinner:
+
+"Remember, I trust you."
+
+Skinner ground his teeth; the tendons in his calves stood out
+rigidly.
+
+"Get set!"
+
+Once more the silence of death wrapped the beholders, and Willie
+raised his arm. Speed cast one lingering farewell glance to the
+skies, and said, devoutly: "What a beautiful, beautiful day!"
+
+Now the starter was shaking in an ague of fury.
+
+"Listen, you!" he chattered, shrilly. "I'm goin' to shoot twice
+this time--once in the air, and the next time at the nearest
+foot-runner. Now, _get set_!" and the speaker pulled
+trigger, whereupon Speed leaped as if the bullet had been aimed
+at him.
+
+Instantly a full-lunged roar went up that rolled away to the
+foot-hills, and the runners sped out of the pandemonium, their
+legs twinkling against the dust-colored prairie. Down to the turn
+they raced. Speed was leading. Fright had acted upon him as an
+electric charge; his terror lent him wings; he was obsessed by a
+propelling force outside of himself. Naturally strong, lithe, and
+active, he likewise possessed within him the white-hot flame of
+youth, and now, with a nameless fear to spurn him on, he ran as
+any healthy, frightened young animal would run. At the second
+turn Skinner had not passed him, but the thud of his feet was
+close behind.
+
+This unparalleled phenomenon surprised Lawrence Glass perhaps
+most of all. He had laid his plans to slip quietly out of the
+crowd under cover of the first confusion and lay his own course
+eastward; but when he beheld his protege actually in the lead, he
+remained rooted to his tracks. Was this a miracle? He turned to
+Covington, to find him dancing madly, his crutches waving over
+his head, in his eyes the stare of a maniac. His mouth was
+distended, and Glass reasoned that he must be shouting violently,
+but could not be sure. Suddenly Covington dashed to the turn
+whence the runners would be revealed as they covered the last
+half lap, for nothing was distinguishable through the fence,
+burdened by human forms, and Larry lumbered after him, ploughing
+his way through the crowd and colliding with the box upon which
+stood the Echo Phonograph, of New York and Paris. He hurled
+Mariedetta out of his path with brutal disregard, but even before
+he could reach his point of vantage the sprinters burst into the
+homestretch. Larry Glass saw it all at a glance--Speed was
+weakening, while Skinner was running easily. Nature had done her
+utmost; she could not work the impossible. As they tore past,
+Skinner was ahead.
+
+The air above the corral became blackened with hats as if a flock
+of vultures had wheeled suddenly; the shriek of triumph that rose
+from the Centipede ranks warned the trainer that he had tarried
+too long. Heavily he set off across the prairie for New York.
+
+The memory of that race awakened Speed from his slumbers many
+times in later years. When he found the brown shoulder of his
+rival drawing past he realized that for him the end of all things
+was at hand. And yet, be it said to his credit, he held doggedly
+to his task, and began to fight his waning strength with renewed
+determination. Down through the noisy crowd he pounded at the
+heels of his antagonist, then out upon the second lap. But now
+his fatigue increased rapidly, and as it increased, so did
+Skinner's lead. At the second turn Wally was hopelessly
+outdistanced, and began to sob with fury, in anticipation of the
+last, long, terrible stretch. Back toward the final turn they
+came, the college man desperately laboring, the cook striding on
+like a machine. Wally saw the rows of forms standing upon the
+fence, but of the shouting he heard nothing. Skinner was twenty
+yards ahead now, and flung a look back over his shoulder. As he
+turned into the last straightaway he looked back again and
+grinned triumphantly.
+
+Then--J. Wallingford Speed gasped, and calling upon his uttermost
+atom of strength, quickened the strides of his leaden legs.
+Skinner had fallen!
+
+A shriek of exultation came from the Flying Heart followers; it
+died as the unfortunate man struggled to his feet, and was off
+again before his opponent had overtaken him. Down the alley of
+human forms the two came; then as their man drew ahead for an
+instant or two, such a bedlam broke forth from Gallagher's crew
+that Lawrence Glass, well started on his overland trip, judged
+that the end had come.
+
+But Skinner wavered. His ankle turned for a second time; he
+seemed about to fall once more. Then he righted himself, but he
+came on hobbling.
+
+The last thirty yards contained the tortures of a lifetime to
+Wally Speed. His lungs were bursting, his head was rolling, every
+step required a separate and concentrated effort of will. He knew
+he was wobbling, and felt his knees ready to buckle beneath him,
+but he saw the blue, tight-stretched ribbon just ahead, and
+continued to lessen the gap between himself and Skinner until he
+felt he must reach out wildly and grasp at the other man's
+clothing. Helen's face stood out from the blur, and her lips
+cried to him. He plunged forward, his outflung arm tore the
+ribbon from its fastening, and he fell. But Skinner was behind
+him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+The only thing in the world that the victorious Speed wanted was
+to lie down and stretch out and allow those glowing coals in his
+chest to cool off. But rough hands seized him, and he found
+himself astride of Stover's shoulders and gyrating about the Echo
+Phonograph in the midst of a war-dance. He kicked violently with
+his spiked shoes, whereat the foreman bucked like a wild horse
+under the spur and dropped him, and he staggered out of the
+crowd, where a girl flew to him.
+
+"Oh, Wally," she cried, "I knew you could!" He sank to the
+ground, and she knelt beside him.
+
+Skinner was propped against the corral fence opposite, his face
+distorted with suffering, and Gallagher was rubbing his ankle.
+
+"'Taint broke, I reckon," said Gallagher, rising. "I wish to hell
+it was!" He stared disgustedly at his fallen champion, and added:
+"We don't want y'all for a cook no more, Skinner. You never was
+no good nohow." He turned to Helen and handed her a double
+handful of bank-notes, as Berkeley Fresno buried his hands in his
+pockets and walked away. "Here's your coin, miss. If ever you get
+another hunch, let me know. An' here's yours, Mr. Speed; it's a
+weddin'-present from the Centipede." He fetched a deep sigh.
+"Thank the Lord we'll git somethin' fit to eat from now on!"
+
+Speed staggered to Skinner, who was still nursing his injury, and
+held out his hand, whereat the cook winked his left eye gravely.
+
+"The best man won," said Skinner, "and say--there's a parson at
+Albuquerque." Then he groaned loudly, and fell to massaging his
+foot.
+
+There came a fluttering by his side, and Miss Blake's voice said
+to him, with sweetness and with pity: "I'm so sorry you lost your
+position, Mr. Skinner. You're a splendid runner!"
+
+"Never mind the job, miss, I've got something to remember it by."
+He pointed to a sash which lay beside him. "The loser gets the
+ribbon, miss," he explained gallantly.
+
+Off to the right there came a new outcry, and far across the
+level prairie a strange sight was revealed to the beholders. A
+fat man in white flannels was doubling and dodging ahead of two
+horsemen, and even from a considerable distance it could plainly
+be seen that he was behaving with remarkable agility for one so
+heavy. Repeatedly his pursuers headed him off, but he rushed past
+them, seemingly possessed by the blind sense of direction that
+guides the homing pigeon or the salmon in its springtime run. He
+was headed toward the east.
+
+"Why, it's Larry!" ejaculated Speed. "And Cloudy and Carara."
+
+"Wally, your man has lost his reason!" Chapin called.
+
+At that instant the watchers saw the Mexican thunder down upon
+Glass, his lariat swinging about his head. Lazily the rope
+uncoiled and settled over the fleeing figure, then, amid a cloud
+of dust, Carara's horse set itself upon its haunches and the
+white-clad figure came to the end of its flight. There was a
+violent struggle, as if the cowboy had hooked a leaping tuna,
+cactus plants and sage-brush were uprooted, then the pony began
+to back away, always keeping the lariat taut. But Glass was no
+easy captive, as his threshing arms and legs betrayed, and even
+when he was dragged back to the scene of the race, panting,
+grimy, dishevelled, the rope still about his waist, he seemed
+obsessed by that wild insanity for flight. He was drenched with
+perspiration, his collar was dangling, one end of a suspender
+trailed behind him.
+
+At sight of Speed he uttered a cry, then plunged through the
+crowd like a bull, but the lariat loop slipped to his neck and
+tightened like a hangman's noose.
+
+"Larry," cried his employer, sharply, "have you lost your head?"
+
+"Ain't they g-g-got you yet?" queried the trainer in a strangling
+voice.
+
+"You idiot, I won!"
+
+"What!"
+
+"I won--easy."
+
+"You _won!_" Larry's eyes were starting from his head.
+
+"He sure did," said Stover. "Didn't you think he could?"
+
+Glass apprehended that look of suspicion. "Certainly!" said he.
+"Didn't I say so, all along? Now take that clothesline off of me;
+I've got to run some more."
+
+That evening J. Wallingford Speed and Helen Blake sat together in
+the hammock, and much of the time her hand was in his. The breath
+of the hills wandered to them idly, fragrant with the odors of
+the open fields, the heavens were bright with dancing stars, the
+night itself was made for romance. From the bunk-house across the
+court-yard floated the voice of the beloved Echo Phonograph, now
+sad, now gay; now shrilling the peaceful air with Mme. Melba's
+_Holy City_, now waking the echoes with the rasping
+reflections of _Silas on Fifth Avenue._ To the spellbound
+audience gathered close beside it, it was divine; but deep as was
+their satisfaction, it could not compare with that of the tired
+young son of Eli. Ineffable peace and contentment were his; the
+whole wide world was full of melody.
+
+"And now that I've told you what a miserable fraud I am, you
+won't stop loving me?" he questioned.
+
+Helen nestled closer and shook her head. There was no need for
+words.
+
+Jack Chapin came out upon the porch with the chaperon. "Well,
+Fresno caught his train," he told them.
+
+"And we had such a glorious drive coming back! The night is
+splendid!"
+
+"Yes, so nice and moonlight!" Wally agreed pleasantly, whereat
+Jack Chapin laughed.
+
+"It's as black as pitch."
+
+"Why, so it is!" Then as a fresh song burst forth from the very
+heart of the machine, he murmured affectionately: "By Jove! there
+goes _The Baggage Coach Ahead_ once more! That makes ten
+times."
+
+"It's a beautiful thing, isn't it?" Miss Blake sighed dreamily.
+
+"I--I believe I'm learning to like it myself," her lover agreed.
+"Poor Frez!"
+
+The bridesmaids wore white organdie and carried violets.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Going Some, by Ellingwood Beach
+
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