me
I'm ther first feller ter jump in ter help yer."

"We're all willing to help on a thing like that," said Ted.

"Then ye'll consent ter pull off ther race in Snyder?" asked the old man
eagerly.

"I am, if ther other boys will consent ter it," said Bud.

"All right with me," said Ted, and the other boys voiced their assent.

It looked as if there was a good bit of fun in prospect.

"Thanks, boys," said the old man, with a catch in his voice, as if he
was deeply touched. "Ye'll do a good turn fer me an' little Bill here.
Bill, we'll git home fer Christmas yit."

"If you're going to make it a public race, you'll have to get over to
Snyder early to make arrangements," said Ted.

"I'll leave before sunup in ther mornin', an' we'll have the race at
three o'clock. Is that all satisfactory?"

This proved satisfactory to the boys, and, having agreed to be on hand
in time with Hatrack, every one turned in.

When the boys turned out in the morning the blankets which the old man
and the boy had occupied were empty and cold, showing that they had
departed long before daylight.

"There's something fishy about that old chap," said Ben Tremont, as they
were at breakfast.

"Of course, there is," said Ted. "He's an old horse sharp. Sol Flatbush
knows him. He wants a race in town, thinking he can draw us into
betting. He doesn't know that we never gamble, but he evidently believes
that in the excitement of the moment he will be able to get some of our
money."

"Well, he'll get fooled on that," said Ben.

"He'll git fooled in several other ways, too," grunted Bud.

After breakfast Bud went out and roped Hatrack, and after a tussle that
lasted several strenuous minutes, brought him into camp. Hatrack
certainly was a sorry-looking beast.

His long, dirty, yellowish-brown hair was rumpled and fluffed up. His
ribs showed sharp, and his tail was full of burs, while his short and
scraggy mane was missing in spots.

His flanks had been rubbed bare of hair where he had lain for many
nights on the rocks and in the sands of the desert.

"Well, dog my cats, if he ain't ther orneriest-lookin' beast what ever
toted a saddle," said Bud, looking him over, as Hatrack stood with
drooping head and ears.

"Bud, he isn't worth making cat's meat out of," said Ben. "I guess you
made that race to get rid of him. It's easier and more humane than
shooting him or abandoning him to the prairie wolves."

"Reckon so?" asked Bud, looking at