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, couldI?"
"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 lethimrun."
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 Icanrun!"
"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 ofDearie, 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 sangDearieto 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 tosingthis 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 isnot!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 andthree-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 theCuban 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!"
"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 ofSam Bassin 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 MissBlake'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." TheCalifornian was angry.
"Indeed!" exclaimed his rival, airily.
"That's what I remarked. Did they tell you what happened to HumpyJoe, 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 Ishallask 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 anythingI 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 totwomen!" 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.Stophim!"
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 dosomething, 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.
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 youdodislike him?"
"No, indeed!Ilike 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' tolivehere?" 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! AndThe 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," saidFresno, 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 andGlass 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 singsDearie." 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.
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 hecan'trun."
"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'sgitsome 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 heisa 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 theMexican.
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'tprovethat 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 inThe Holy Citywould 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."