-no--th'--th'--maverick--he had
to ride_--He must get out! There was a--a--window--sometimes they had
them--in the back of the stalls. Maybe the hay was over it. He climbed
on the bales. Behind them he could see the opening. God, he was weak!
With the sweat of terrible nausea bursting from every pore of his body
he pulled the bales back. He fell over the bale on which he had been
lying. One hand brushed his hat which had fallen from his head.
Mechanically, with stiff fingers, he picked it up and jammed it on
again. Then he climbed--crawled--over the hay and pitched forward
through the opening, in a limp heap, on the ground outside.

For a moment he lost consciousness completely again: _Th'--th' race--th'
maverick! he mustn't forget_--

He fought his way to his feet and groped along back of the building--the
stall--which way was it? Down there? No--the other way--

As Carolyn June tightened the rear cinch on the Gold Dust maverick and
turned toward the door of the stall with: "Look out, boys--I'm coming
out!" the Ramblin' Kid, clutching at the side of the building, reeled
around the corner of the stall. The cowboys saw him. He himself saw only
black shapes where their horses were.

"Good God!" Skinny cried, "he's drunk!"

Carolyn June heard Skinny's exclamation at the instant the Ramblin' Kid,
catching at the half-open door, almost fell into the stall. His eyes
stared with a dull, puzzled, unrecognizing vacancy first at Carolyn June
and then the Gold Dust maverick. "_Who th' hell_--" he mumbled stiffly.
"What--th'--oh, yes--there's th' filly--_th'--th'--race_. It
must--be--time. Th' mare's saddled! That's--that's--funny! I can't
remember. Th' race--th' sweepstakes--that's it--"

Reaching over he jerked the reins from the hand of Carolyn June.

"Who--who--get the--" came like the thick growl of a beast from his
throat. "You--you--can't ride--she'll--_she'll--kill--_"

Carolyn June shrank back as if she had been struck. She pressed her
hands against her cheeks and stepped away with a look of horror and
disgust as the Ramblin' Kid backed out of the stall with the Gold Dust
maverick. Outside he fumbled grotesquely at the silky mane and climbed
weakly into the saddle.

Chuck and Bert started toward him.

"Get--the--hell--" he snarled as he saw their horses--mere shadow shapes
they were to him--approach.

"Let him alone!" Skinny said. "He's drunk! You'll just scare the filly
and make her hurt him!"

The boys let