and he did not care. When Bostil got out of
breath Slone said:

"We're both wastin' talk. An' I'm not wantin' you to call me a liar
twice. ... Put your rider up on the King an' come on, right now. I'll--"

"Slone, shut up an' chase yourself," interrupted Holley

"You go to h--l!" returned Slone, coolly.

There was a moment's silence, in which Slone took Holley's measure. The
hawk-eyed old rider may have been square, but he was then thinking only
of Bostil.

"What am I up, against here?" demanded Slone. "Am I goin' to be shot
because I'm takin' my own part? Holley, you an' the rest of your pards
are all afraid of this old devil. But I'm not--an' you stay out of
this."

"Wal, son, you needn't git riled," replied Holley, placatingly. "I was
only tryin' to stave off talk you might be sorry for."

"Sorry for nothin'! I'm goin' to make this great horse-trader, this
rich an' mighty rancher, this judge of grand horses, this BOSTIL! ...
I'm goin' to make him race the King or take water!" Then Slone turned
to Bostil. That worthy evidently had been stunned by the rider who
dared call him to his face. "Come on! Fetch the King! Let your own
riders judge the race!"

Bostil struggled both to control himself and to speak. "Naw! I ain't
goin' to see thet red hoss-killer jump the King again!"

"Bah! you're afraid. You know there'd be no girl on his back. You know
he can outrun the King an' that's why you want to buy him."

Slone caught his breath then. He realized suddenly, at Bostil's paling
face, that perhaps he had dared too much. Yet, maybe the truth flung
into this hard old rider's teeth was what he needed more than anything
else. Slone divined, rather than saw, that he had done an unprecedented
thing.

"I'll go now, Bostil."

Slone nodded a good-by to the riders, and, turning away, he led the two
horses down the lane toward the house. It scarcely needed sight of Lucy
under the cottonwoods to still his anger and rouse his regret. Lucy saw
him coming, and, as usual, started to avoid meeting him, when sight of
the horses, or something else, caused her to come toward him instead.

Slone halted. Both Wildfire and Nagger whinnied at sight of the girl.
Lucy took one flashing glance at them, at Slone, and then she evidently
guessed what was amiss.

"Lucy, I've done it now--played hob, sure," said Slone.

"What?" she cried.

"I called your dad--called him good an' hard--an' he--he--"

"Lin! Oh, don't say Dad." Lucy's