"
Miss Blake puckered her brows trying to think.
"Joseph," she said. "No, I don't think I have seen him."
Stover's lips met grimly. "I don't reckon you have, miss. Since
that race he has been hard to descry. He passed from view
hurriedly, so to speak, headed toward the foot-hills, and leaping
from crag to crag like the hardy shamrock of the Swiss Yelps."
Miss Blake giggled. "What made him hurry so?"
"Us!" Stover gazed at her solemnly. "We ain't none of us been the
same since that foot-race. You see, it ain't the financial value
of that Echo Phonograph, nor the 'double-cross' that hurts: it's
the fact that the mangiest outfit in the Territory has trimmed us
out of the one thing that stands for honor and excellence and
'scientific attainment,' as the judge said when we won it. That
talking-machine meant more to us than you Eastern folks can
understand, I reckon."
"If I were you I would cheer up," said Miss Blake, kindly, and
with some importance. "Miss Chapin has a college friend coming
this week, and he can win back your trophy.
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