Ted Strong's Motor Car

  CHAPTER XXVII.

  THE GREAT CHIQUITA.

  Hatrack and Magpie were now brought up to the starting point.

  The boy who traveled with old man Norris was on the back of the latterhorse, sitting in a regular jockey's saddle and stripped of allsuperfluous clothing.

  He was the typical jockey now. He had put away all the appearance ofyouth, and was a crafty and sly man.

  It was apparent that the whole outfit was in the racing business, and asthe crowd looked at the discrepancy between the two horses, and observedthat on the best-looking horse was a professional jockey, while on thecrowbait was only a girl, something like a groan went up.

  But some of them were game, and cheered Stella to the echo.

  "You're all right!" shouted her supporters.

  "Hurrah fer ther girl jockey," yelled the cow-punchers. "I got a month'swages that says she'll win the race."

  But the other side had something to say, also. They made all sorts offun of Hatrack, and roars of laughter went up as he ambled,stiff-legged, onto the course.

  Clay Whipple was chosen to start the race, and stood beside the trackwith a red flag in his hand. The two horses were jockeyed back and forthfor several minutes.

  "Are you ready?" shouted Clay, as they came up.

  "No!" shouted Stella.

  "No!" answered the jockey.

  Back again they went, and came up neck and neck, the riders nodding toClay.

  "Go!" cried Clay, bringing down the red flag with a swish through theair.

  "Vamose!" Stella's clear young voice rang out.

  Then an amazing thing happened. Hatrack seemed to be suddenly galvanizedinto life. He straightened out, and shot to the front with great, longhorizontal leaps. His body seemed to be gliding close to the earth.

  His head was between his legs, and he was running like a greyhound.Stella was bent low upon his neck, and every moment or two she wouldshout in Spanish, "Go it! Vamose!" or, "You're winning! Vamose!"

  And winning Hatrack surely was. Now he was half a length ahead of thefleet Magpie, who was running the race of her life.

  Behind her Stella could hear the crowd yelling like mad. The air fairlyshook with the shouts of the multitude as the two horses shot forward.But it was a short race, and seemed to Stella to have ended almost assoon as it began.

  As she flew past Bud, she got a fleeting glimpse of him jumping up anddown in a very ecstasy of glee, and she knew that she had won, and beganpulling in Hatrack. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that Magpie wasalready down to a walk a short distance from the wire, and that CapNorris and the jockey were talking earnestly.

  In a moment she had Hatrack turned, and was going back to where Bud waswaiting for her.

  "Bully for you, Stella," shouted Bud. "Yer rode a great race. Jest ez Iwanted it run. Nobody couldn't hev done it better. I told yer ye'd win."

  "That was too easy," laughed Stella. "I wish it had been four times aslong."

  "That makes it all the better."

  "How much did I beat him?"

  "A whole length."

  "That ought to be enough."

  "It was, but I'll bet a cooky they'll make a kick. These crooks alwayslay out to win, and won't race unless they can win. If they don't, theyset up a cry of foul, or something of that sort."

  "But they can't do that in this case, because I didn't foul him."

  Stella became indignant at the very thought.

  "Sure you didn't, but that won't keep those wolves from claiming somesort of a foul."

  "You're not going to stand for it, are you?"

  "Not in a blue moon. I've got the boys posted. Here comes Norris and hisjockey back."

  The old racing sharp walked up to Bud, leading Magpie.

  "Well, Magpie's mine," said Bud, not giving the other a chance to speakfirst. "Sorry for your sake that you lost, Cap, but the fortunes ofracing often turn unexpectedly, eh?"

  "You haven't won," said the old man excitedly.

  "Oh, I reckon we won, all right," answered Bud lazily, although therewas an ugly gleam in his eye.

  "No, sir, you didn't win fair. Thar wuz a foul at ther start. I see it,all right; I wasn't shore until I talked with my boy thar, an' he saysas how ther young lady bumped him outer his stride jest ez they wuzgittin' off."

  "Oh, no, you can't work me like that, Cap. They were five feet apartwhen the flag fell."

  "I tell yer I see it with my own eyes. 'Twas a foul, an' I claim therrace, er it hez got ter be run over ag'in."

  "Never, on yer life. The race goes to the young lady. But I'm not goingto stand here and chew the thing over with you. It's up to the judges."

  They all approached the judges' stand, where apparently a livelyargument was in progress.

  Ben and the big man who had been chosen by Norris were talkingexcitedly, and the other man was listening.

  All about the stand an angry crowd of men was surging, all talking atonce, so that nothing could be made out of the babel of shouts, exceptwhen some person with unusually good lungs made himself heard in adenunciation of one or the other riders.

  Ted had joined the crowd, waiting for the arrival of Bud and Stella. Budwas walking by the side of Stella, whose face showed the disappointmentshe felt at not being declared at once the winner.

  It was so evidently a job to steal the race from Hatrack that the leaderof the broncho boys was both angry and disgusted.

  "This is what you get for having anything to do with this mob ofgamblers and thieves," he said to Kit, who was standing by his side.

  "What's that you said, young feller?" said a man, edging up.

  "I wasn't talking to you, my friend," answered Ted coolly.

  "No, but you was talkin' at me," said the other.

  "Why, are you a thief and a gambler?" asked Ted, with a lifting of hiseyebrows that expressed a great deal that he did not say.

  "I guess it's the other way around," answered the fellow, snarling.

  "I don't see how you make that out."

  "Well, I do. The gal bumped the rider o' Magpie."

  "She did nothing of the sort. I stood beside the starter of the race,and I was nearer to the horses than you were, and if any one could seethem I could. The horses were several feet apart when they started."

  "Why, sure. You and your pals are interested in the bone heap that wentin first through a foul."

  "That will be about enough of that."

  A bright red spot burned on each of Ted's cheeks, the danger signal ofhis wrath.

  "Now, see here, young fellow, you can't throw any bluff into me," saidthe fellow, approaching Ted with one shoulder raised.

  "You let him alone. He's all right, and has got as much right to talk asyou have," said another man, elbowing his way up.

  He was one of those who had bet on Hatrack, and Ted recognized him asthe foreman of the Running Water horse ranch.

  "Well, the gal stole the race fer these fellers, an' we ain't goin' terstand fer it. They needn't think they kin bring any o' their gals inhere to do their dirty work. They all look alike to us."

  "See here," said Ted coolly, "let me give you a piece of advice. Leavethe young lady out of it, or I'll give you something else to think aboutfor a while."

  "Rats fer you," said the fellow, snapping his fingers under Ted's nose.

  He picked himself from the ground ten feet away, wiping his bleedingnose and wondering what had happened to him.

  "Say, boy," said the foreman of the Running Water, "that was as prettyand clean a blow as ever I see. You can handle them mitts o' yours righthandy."

  A score of men had rushed up and surrounded Ted and Kit, all shoutingand gesticulating at the same time.

  Meantime, Ben was having his troubles in the judges' stand.

  He had, of course, decided in favor of Hatrack, while the big man haddeclared for a foul and no decision, and the third judge stood wavering.

  On the face of it the whole thing was a steal on the part of thegamblers, who had evidently d
ecided beforehand that if the race wentagainst them to claim a foul and bluff it through.

  But they had argued without their host. They did not know what they wereopposing when they ran against Ted Strong.

  Ted was sorry that he had gone into the affair at all, but once in hewas there to stick to the finish. The fellow whom he had knocked downhad retired to the rear to attend to his broken nose, and to give hisfriends an opportunity to fight his battle.

  The foreman of the Running Water had disappeared. He had foreseentrouble when the gamblers got together, and attempted to force the racethrough, and had gone to collect the cow-punchers and others who hadbeen induced to bet on Hatrack.

  Ted stood his ground patiently, waiting until a decision should behanded down by the judges before declaring himself.

  Stella was sitting in her saddle on Hatrack a few feet away from thestand watching the proceedings, and listening to the arguments on bothsides made by the angry men.

  Bud and Kit stood on either side of her, to protect her from the remarksof the disgruntled gamblers.

  Suddenly a man pushed his way through the throng, mounted on a Spanishmule.

  He was a fine-looking man, dressed after the manner of the plainsman,and might have been either a cow-puncher in prosperity or a ranch owner.

  As the crowd made way for him he caught sight of Bud, and stopped andstared for several moments without speaking.

  Bud had not noticed him, but when he did look up he returned the stare,and his forehead was wrinkled in thought.

  Somewhere in the back part of his head he carried a picture of thisman, but under different circumstances.

  Who could he be, and where had he been met, were the things that werepuzzling Bud.

  "Hello, pard, you don't seem to place me," said the man on the Spanishmule. "But I haven't forgotten you by a dern sight. Think hard."

  "I've saw yer som'er's," said Bud thoughtfully, "but it wa'n't likethis. You're som'er's in my picture gallery o' faces, but yer ain't thersame as when I saw yer last."

  "Right ye are," said the man. "How's Chiquita getting along?"

  "Ah, I've got yer now. How did yer come out? Middlin' well, ter jedgefrom ther mule yer ridin', an' yer ginral appearance o' prosperity."

  "You bet I be," said the man, "an' if it hadn't been fer you I wouldn'thave been nowhere. I've come a long ways ter hunt yer up, ter thank yer,an' to get better acquainted with yer."

  "Well, ye've got me inter a heap o' trouble," said Bud, laughing.

  "So I see, an' I'll help yer get out o' it. What seems ter be thetrouble?"

  "Well, old Chiquita, er Hatrack, ez ther boys in ther outfit calls him,won a race just now, an' ther gamblers won't stand by it. They sent outword that Hatrack was a sure winner, an'--"

  "Same old thing. Chiquita fooled them all."

  "I didn't know he could do it myself, but I remembered what you saidabout him, an' when an ole maverick come along an' banters me fer a raceI jest took him up, an' this is how it come out. He took us fer a buncho' gillies, an' used us to try to fleece the people."

  "What's his name?" asked the man on the Spanish mule softly.

  "Cap Norris."

  "Oh, ole Pap Norris, eh? Calls hisself Cap now, does he?"

  "That's what he does, an' he's a derned ole skin."

  "None skinnier. But where is he? I should like to see him."

  "He's sashayin' around here som'er's attendin' ter his dirty work.Lookin' after his grandson, little Willie, I reckon."

  "What, is that thief still hangin' on to him?"

  "Yes. I see you seem to know him."

  "Know him! Well, I should gurgle I do know him. I thought every hoss manin the country knew him. Little Willie, the orphaned grandson, is almostold enough to be a grandfather himself. He's an outlawed jockey, an' hean' Pap go about the country skinning countrymen and cow-punchers withhis fake races. He never won a square race in his life. I should say Idid know him. Here he comes now. Watch me wake him up."

  The old fellow was bustling up to the crowd.

  "See here, young fellow, get ther gal offen that hoss, he's mine, er asgood as mine in a moment. The jedges are goin' ter award ther race terme on account o' ther foul," he shouted to Bud.

  "I reckon ther hoss stays right with me," said Bud smoothly. "But I wantter tell yer thet yer better bring in that magpie hoss so's I kin githim quick. He ain't yours no more."

  "Come, come! None o' yer foolishness with me," blustered the old man."Git ther gal off before she's pulled off."

  "You or any other man put your finger on thet young lady if yer dare,"said Bud. "Jest try it once if yer think I'm bluffin', men."

  "Hello, Pap," said the man on the Spanish mule. "Up ter yer ole tricks,I see."

  The old man looked up at the man on the mule, then turned pale andslunk away without another word.

  "Men," said the man on the mule, addressing the crowd, "you've beenstung. This old bag o' bones is Chiquita, the best race horse everproduced in Mexico, an' I brought him over here, where I traded him fora plain cayuse an' gave something ter boot. If any o' you men knowanything about hosses ye'll recognize ther great Chiquita, what made an'lost more money fer ther people o' Mexico than any one other thing. Papdidn't know it until he see me, then he suddenly remembered a littledeal me an' him was in. I know this Magpie hoss well, an' it couldn'tstand no more show of winnin' a race from Chiquita than a snail would.Take it from me that ye've been caught at yer own game, an' have beendone."

  At the name of Chiquita a groan went up from the gamblers.

  "And who are you?" asked Bud.

  "Come nearer, an' I'll tell you in your ear," was the reply.

  Bud went close to him, and the man stooped in his saddle and whispered aword in his ear, at which the old cow-puncher looked startled, thenburst into a fit of laughter.