but th'
Ramblin' Kid got the drop on him and got away. He was justified in
beating Sabota up anyhow," he added, "on account of the dirty cuss
hiring a feller to 'dope' him so he couldn't ride the maverick the day
of the big race--"

"'Dope' him?" Old Heck interrupted, puzzled.

"Yes," Skinny explained, "the Greek had a feller named Gyp Streetor put
some stuff in th' Ramblin? Kid's coffee. He wasn't drunk at all--he was
just poisoned with 'knock-out!'"

"Good lord!" Old Heck exclaimed. "And he rode that race when he was
drugged! While we all thought he'd gone to pieces and was drunk!"

Carolyn June's cheeks suddenly turned pale. He cared, but he was gone!
Perhaps never to come back! It seemed as if an iron hand was clutching
at her throat!

She and Ophelia went into the hotel and Old Heck and Skinny drove the
car over to the stock-yards where the cattle were being loaded.

After Parker and the cowboys were on their way east with the steers and
before he returned to the ranch Old Heck went into the room in which
Sabota lay. The Greek's head was a mass of white bandages. His eyes
battered and swollen shut, he could not see the face of his visitor.

For a moment Old Heck looked at him, his lips parted in a smile of
contempt lightened with satisfaction.

"Well, Sabota," he said at last, "th' Ramblin' Kid didn't quite do his
duty, did he? If he had gone as far as he ought to you wouldn't be
laying there--they'd just about now be hiding your dirty carcass under
six feet of 'dobe!'"

Sabota mumbled some guttural, unintelligible reply.

"Listen, you infernal skunk," Old Heck went on coldly, "as quick as
you're able to travel you'll find Eagle Butte's a right good place to
get away from! You understand what I mean. If I catch you around, well,
I won't use no fists!" And without waiting for an answer he turned and
left the room.

The owner of the Quarter Circle KT then hunted lip the marshal of Eagle
Butte.

"Tom," he said, "I reckon you'll be looking some for th' Ramblin' Kid,
after what happened last night, won't you?"

The marshal had heard of Sabota's effort to have the young cowboy
drugged the day of the race and also the immediate cause for the fight.

"Oh, I don't know as I will," he said, "unless the Greek makes some
charge or other. I don't imagine he'll do that"

"I know blamed well he won't!" Old Heck interrupted. "But how about th'
Ramblin' Kid putting his gun in your ribs--resisting an officer and