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Beach, Rex Ellingwood, 1877-1949

"Going Some"

"Somebody coming," he whispered.
"Understand Merchants' Hotel, Albuquerque, noon, Sunday." And the
next instant he had vanished into the dusk, leaving behind him a
youth half hysterical with hope.
Out of the blackest gloom had come J. Wallingford Speed's
deliverance, and he did not pause to consider the ethics
involved. If he had he would have told himself that by Skinner's
own confession the Centipede had won through fraud at the first
race; if they were paid back in their own coin now it would be no
more than tardy justice. With light heart he hastened to replace
the borrowed revolver in the bunk-room just as voices coming
nearer betokened the arrival of his friends from the house. As he
stepped out into the night he came upon Jack Chapin.
"Hello, Wally!"
"Hello, Jack!" They shook hands, while the owner of the Flying
Heart continued.
"I've just got in, and they've been telling me about this foot-
race. What in the deuce is the matter with you, anyhow? Why
didn't you let me know?"
The girls drew closer, and Speed saw that Miss Blake was pale.


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