to Skeeter's middle, to his
shoulder, to his ears--and with the next leap thrust his nose past
Skeeter's as they finished.

Well, then there was the usual noise, everyone trying to shout louder
than his fellows. Bud rode to where Pop was sitting apart on a pacing
gray horse that he always rode, and paused to say guardedly,

"I pulled him, Pop. But at that I won, so if I can pry another race
out of this bunch to-day, you can bet all you like. And you owe me five
dollars," he added thriftily.

"Sho! Shucks almighty!" spluttered Pop, reaching reluctantly into his
pocket for the money. "Jeff, he done some pullin' himself--I wish I
knowed," he added pettishly, "just how big a fool you air."

"Hey, come over here!" shouted Jeff. "What yuh nagging ole Pop about?"

"Pop lost five dollars on that race," Bud called back, and loped over
to the crowd. "But he isn't the only one. Seems to me I've got quite a
bunch of money coming to me, from this crowd!"

"Jeff, he'd a beat him a mile if his bridle rein had busted," an
arrogant voice shouted recklessly. "Jeff, you old fox, you know damn
well you pulled Skeeter. You must love to lose, doggone yuh."

"If you think I didn't run right," Jeff retorted, as if a little
nettled, "someone else can ride the horse. That is, if the kid here
ain't scared off with your talk. How about it, Bud? Think you won fair?"

Bud was collecting his money, and he did not immediately answer the
challenge. When he did it was to offer them another race. He would not,
he said, back down from anyone. He would bet his last cent on
little Smoky. He became slightly vociferative and more than a little
vain-glorious, and within half an hour he had once more staked all the
money he had in the world. The number of men who wanted to bet with
him surprised him a little. Also the fact that the Little Lost men were
betting on Smoky.

Honey called him over to the bank and scolded him in tones much like her
name, and finally gave him ten dollars which she wanted to wager on
his winning. As he whirled away, Marian beckoned impulsively and leaned
forward, stretching out to him her closed hand.

"Here's ten," she smiled, "just to show that the Little Lost stands by
its men--and horses. Put it on Smoky, please." When Bud was almost out
of easy hearing, she called to him. "Oh--was that a five or a ten dollar
bill I gave you?"

Bud turned back, unfolding the banknote. A very tightly folded scrap of
paper slid into his