Ramblin' Kid's got a colt that can
beat Thunderbolt!"

"The Ramblin' Kid must have a hell of a fast horse!" Dorsey snarled
contemptuously, "a hell of a fast horse!" he repeated, "when the Ramblin'
Kid himself declines to risk a dollar of his own money on the running
qualities of the critter!" referring to the conversation a few hours
before in the entry judges' office.

As he finished speaking he turned and looked squarely into the cold gray
eyes of Old Heck who, with Skinny, had entered the Amusement Parlor
while Dorsey was talking and heard the Vermejo cattleman's sneering
insinuation.

CHAPTER XV

MOCHA AND JAVA

Old Heck and Skinny had left Ophelia and Carolyn June at the Occidental
Hotel, where a room was reserved by Old Heck for the use of the two
women during the Rodeo. They had then gone direct to Mike Sabota's place
for the express purpose of running into Dorsey and his crowd. Old Heck
knew that if any large bets were to be laid on the two-mile sweepstakes
the only chance would be to place them before the Ramblin' Kid brought
the Gold Dust maverick to Eagle Butte and the Vermejo bunch discovered
the identity of the horse Thunderbolt was up against.

The Quarter Circle KT cow-men stepped into the pool-room at exactly the
instant most favorable for their purpose.

Dorsey had made his boast in the presence of a crowd.

He would hardly dare back up without covering, at least to some
worth-while extent, his words with his money.

For a full minute Old Heck drilled Dorsey with a look such, as a hound
dog might have in his eyes after he has cornered a coyote and pauses
before he springs.

Instinctively the crowd stepped back from the two cattlemen while a
death-like hush fell over the place.

"Th' Ramblin' Kid don't need to back the filly with his money, Dorsey,"
Old Heck said slowly and in a voice audible in every part of the room;
"I'm here to back her with mine! You've done a lot of talking--now,
damn you, cover your chatter with coin or shut up!" the end of the
sentence coming like the crack of a whip.

With a nervous laugh the Vermejo cattleman jerked a wallet from his
pocket.

"Here's a thousand that says Thunderbolt does the same thing to the
Ramblin' Kid's filly that he done to Quicksilver!" Dorsey snapped.

Old Heck threw back his head and laughed scornfully.

"A thousand? I thought you were a sport, Dorsey!" he sneered. "Match
this," he continued, reaching for his check-book and