ly thinks he's got
a chance to rake in the full pot, and it's a big one. Get Johnny back on
the Range, Hunt--put him to work, hard. Sweat that sour temper and whisky
out of him. He used to be a promising youngster; now he's turning bronco
fast. All he seems to have learned in the war is how to use those guns of
his to lord it over anyone he believes he can push around. And someday
he'll try to push the wrong man--"

_Don_ Cazar was staring ahead of him now at Drew and Shiloh. But Drew knew
that Hunt Rennie was not seeing either man or horse, but a mental picture
which was not too pleasing.

"He's just a boy." Rennie did not utter that as an excuse; rather he said
it as if to reassure himself. Then his eyes really focused on Drew, and he
changed the subject abruptly.

"Kirby, when the train comes in we sometimes set up a race or two. Any
thought of trying your colt against some of the local champions?"

"Oro perhaps?" Drew counter-questioned.

Rennie laughed. "Oh, so you've been talking, Fenner?"

The scout came away from where Tar was still very audibly munching his
treat. "Didn't know as how th' younker had him a runnin' hoss, _Don_
Cazar." He inspected Shiloh critically. "But that thar sure looks a lotta
hoss. 'Course maybe he ain't used t' runnin' out here whar th' ground
ain't made all nice an' easy fur his feet. But I dunno, I dunno at all."

"Anyway he'll give Oro stiffer competition than he's had in the last two
races. Unless that Lieutenant Spath up at the camp tries again with that
long-legged black of his," Topham added. "What about it, Kirby? You
willing to match Shiloh?"

"He's green, but, yes, I'll do it."

Drew's motives were mixed. His pride in the colt had been pushing him
toward such a trial ever since he had heard Fenner speak of Oro. In
addition, as the owner of a noted horse, he would take a place in this
community, establish his identity as Drew Kirby. And in some way he could
not define, this put him, at least in his own mind, on an equal footing
with _Don_ Cazar.

But by the next morning a few doubts troubled him as he tightened saddle
cinches on the stallion. Shiloh's only races so far had been impromptu
matches along the trail. Though the colt had been consistently the victor,
none of his rivals had been in his class. And if Oro's speed was as
striking as his coloring, the Range stud would prove a formidable
opponent.

"Walk him up and down here by the corral." The Kentuckian handed