f the plains are keen on horse racing, and among the
various tribes are to be found some of the fleetest horses in the West,
many of them trained to all the tricks of racing. An Indian jockey is
the shrewdest of his class, and is an adept at all the tricks of the
trade.

"Hi! Look at the livin' skeleton!"

Bud swung around in his saddle and stared at a cow-puncher standing on
the sidewalk in Snyder, as he rode into town dragging behind him the
dejected Hatrack, who looked as if he had been living on two oats for
dinner and a spear of grass for supper all his life.

He ambled along like a tired and footsore dog behind Bud, with his ears
drooping and his toes kicking up the dust. He was a sad-looking animal,
and the word having gone abroad that he was the horse that was to enter
the race with Magpie, he was jeered from one end of the street to the
other, as Bud led him to the corral at the edge of the town. Bud
pretended to be angry at the joshing his steed received, but when he had
turned his back upon the jokers he would wink gently to himself in a way
that would have been puzzling to the supporters of the spotted horse.

Cap Norris had done his work well.

Every one in town knew of the coming race, and word had been sent to the
ranches in the surrounding country, so that before noon the streets were
crowded with people.

"Say, fellows," said Ted, when the boys met at the hotel for dinner,
"this fellow Norris is sure a sharp. That talk about his wanting to get
enough money to take him back home was a lie. He's a gambler, and is in
league with a bunch of gamblers in this town."

"How do you know?" asked Ben.

"How do I know? Why, man alive, they're betting on Magpie all over town.
The tip seems to have gotten out that Bud Morgan and the broncho boys
have a surprise up their sleeves, and that they are going to ring in
another horse than Hatrack."

"How is that?"

"They believe we're going to slip in another horse, a professional
racing horse with a record."

"Let 'em think so. It won't be a professional race horse--at least, not
in this country--that we will put in, but jest ole Hatrack, an' if he
don't win the race by a city block I'll eat him, hoofs an' all."

"Put us next, Bud," said Ben.

"That's what," said Kit. "You've sure got a trick concealed somewhere.
What is it?"

"No, I haven't," said Bud. "But if I wuz a bettin' man I know what hoss
I'd back to win."

That was all the boys could get out o