"I've got to stay here and run a foot-race to-morrow."
"Don't be a fool, Wally!" Covington added his voice to the
others.
Speed whirled angrily. "I don't need your advice--convict!" The
champion hobbled hastily out of range. "I know what I'm doing.
I'm going to run tomorrow, and I stand a good chance to win."
Mr. Fresno, if he had been a girl, would have been said to have
giggled.
"All right, _Dearie_! I'll bet you five hundred dollars--"
as there emerged from the darkness, whence they had approached
unseen, Stover, and behind him the other men.
"Evenin'! What's all the excitement?" greeted the leader, softly.
The master of the ranch stepped forward.
"See here, Bill, I'm sorry, but I won't stand for this foot-
race."
"Why not?" queried the foreman.
"I just won't, that's all. You'll have to call it off."
"I'm sorry, too."
"You refuse?" The owner spoke ominously.
"You bet he does!" Willie pushed himself forward. "This foot-race
is ordained, and it comes off on time. I make bold to inquire if
you're talkin' for our runner?"
"Gentlemen, I can only say to you that for myself I want to run!"
declared Speed.
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