CHAPTER XVII
Speed leaped down from the buck-board in which Carara had drivenhim and Glass over to the Centipede corral.
"I told you to jump out when we crossed that bridge," was Larry'sreproach to him. "You could have broke your arm. Now--it's toolate."
But Speed joined his friends with the most cheerful of greetings.
They responded nervously, shocked at his flippant assurance.
"This, Mr. Speed, is the scene of your defeat!" Gallagher madethe introduction.
"And this is Mr. Skinner, no doubt?" Wally shook hands with theCentipede runner, who stared at him, refused to recognize hisknowing wink, and turned away. "You think pretty well ofyourself, don't you?" suggested Gallagher unpleasantly, and Speedlaughed. There was no reason why he should not laugh. Either wayhis hour had come.
"I s'pose that satchel is full of money?" Gallagher pointed tothe suitcase.
"On the contrary, it is full of clothes. It is I who contain themoney." He thrust a cold palm into his pocket as Covingtondragged him aside to advise him not to be an utter idiot, tothrow his money away if he must, but to throw it to charity or tohis friends.
"Yes," Glass seconded, lugubriously, "and hold out enough to buyme a _Gates Ajar_ in immortelles." But he said also, as ifto himself, "He may be wrong in the burr, but he's a game littleguy."
As the Centipede foreman counted the money, Helen came forward,announcing:
"You'll _have_ to win now, won't you, Mr. Speed? I'vewagered five hundred dollars on you. I bet against Mr. Fresno.""Fresno! So he's out from cover at last, eh?"
"I haven't been under cover," spoke up the Californian. "I'vebeen wise all along."
Chapin wheeled. "Does it seem to you quite the thing to betagainst our man, Fresno?" he inquired, his glance full in theother's eyes.
"Why not? There's no sentiment in financial affairs."
Speed shrugged. "Our tenor friend will sing his way back toCalifornia." He turned with his thanks to Helen.
"The talkin'--machine!" interrupted Still Bill, suddenly. A groupof men was approaching, who bore the phonogragh upon a dry-goodsbox, and deposited it in state beside the race-course. "Say,Gabby, s'pose you give us a tune, just to show she's in goodorder."
"Suspicious, eh?"
"You bet! There's a monologue I'd admire to hear. It's called-"
"We'll have _The Holy City_," said Willie, positively. "It'smore appropriate."
So, with clumsy fingers, Gallagher fitted a record, then wound upthe machine under the jealous eyes of the Flying Heart cowboys.
Drawn by the sound, Skinner, wrapped to the chin in his blanket,idled toward the crowd, affording Glass a sight of his face forthe first time. The latter started as if stung, and crying underhis breath, "Salted car-horse!" drew his employer aside.