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Beach, Rex Ellingwood, 1877-1949

"Going Some"

"Leave
it to me."
"No!" Wally resumed rubbing himself down. "I can't leave without
looking like a quitter. Fresno would get her sure."
"What's the difference if you're astraddle of a cloud with a gold
guitar in your lap?"
"Oh, they won't _kill_ us."
"I tell you these cow-persons is desp'rate. If you stay here and
run that race next Saturday, she'll tiptoe up on Sunday and put a
rose in your hand, sure. I can see her now, all in black. Take it
from me, Wally, we ain't goin' to have no luck in this thing."
"My dear fellow, the simplest way out of the difficulty is for me
to injure myself--"
"Here!" Glass hopped to his feet and dove through the blankets.
"None of that! Have a little regard for me. If you go lame it's
my curtain."
All that day the trainer stayed close to his charge, never
allowing him out of his sight, and when, late in the afternoon,
Speed rebelled at the espionage, Glass merely shrugged his fat
shoulders. "But I want to be alone--with _her_. Can't you
see?"
"I can, but I won't. Go as far as you like. I'll close my eyes.


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