o two sections, the
east and the west. In the eastern section the farming industry was
carried on to an almost equal extent with ranching; in the west, up
among the hills, there was ranching pure and simple. Between the two
sections a strong rivalry existed. In this contest the east had
"banked" on Captain Hal Harricomb, rancher and gentleman farmer, and
his black Demon. The western men, all ranchers, who despised and hated
farmers and everything pertaining to them, were all ranged behind the
Swallow, a dainty little bay mare, bred, owned, and ridden by a young
Englishman, Victor Stanton, known throughout the Albertas, south and
north, as "The Kid," or, affectionately, "The Kiddie," admired for his
superb riding, his reckless generosity, his cool courage, and loved for
his gentle, generous heart.

Already two heats had been run, one going to the Demon and one to the
Swallow, Foxhall sustaining his Eastern reputation as a money-loser.

The excitement of the day had gradually grown in intensity, and now was
concentrated in the final heat of the Association Cup race.

All unconscious of this excitement and of the tremendous issues at
stake, Shock sent his little cayuse peacefully trotting along the trail
to where it met the main street. The street was lined on either side
with men and horses. Something was evidently going on, but what Shock
could not see.

But no sooner had he turned up the street than there was a fierce
outburst of yells, oaths, and execrations, and at the same moment he
heard behind him the pounding of hoofs.

Hastily glancing over his shoulder, he saw thundering down upon him
half a dozen or more mounted men. In vain he tugged at his cayuse. The
little brute allowed his stubborn head to be hauled round close to the
shaft, but declined to remove his body; and, indeed, had he been ever
so eager, there would hardly have been time. A big black horse was
plunging wildly not more than ten feet behind him. A fierce oath, a
shower of dust and gravel in his face, a flash of legs and hoofs, and
the big black was lifted clear over Shock and his cayuse, and was off
again down the street between the lines of yelling men.

"Here, blank your blank head! Git off the course! Don't you know
nothin'?"

When Shock came to himself, he was aware that a tall, lanky cowboy in
chaps, woollen shirt, and stiff, broad-brimmed hat was pounding his
cayuse over the head with his heavy whip.

Shock never knew how it happened