ariat when you put his harness on?"

Fancy Bost having to take all that conversation, with no adequate reply
to make. When I got there he was blue in the face. It didn't take him
half a second to decide what to do. Telling the captain of the Siwash
team to go ahead and play if Muggledorfer insisted, and on no account to
use that 32 double-X play except on first downs, he jumped into the
machine and we started for Ole.

There were no speed records in those days. Wouldn't have made any
difference if there were. Harris just turned on all the juice his old
double-opposed motor could soak up, and when we hit the wooden crossings
on the outskirts of town we fellows in the tonneau went up so high that
we changed sides coming down. It wasn't over twenty minutes till we
sighted a little cloud of dust just beyond a little town to the north.
Pretty soon we saw it was Ole. He was still doing his six miles per. We
caught up and Bost hopped out, still mad.

"Where in Billy-be-blamed are you going, you human trolley car?" he
spluttered, sprinting along beside Skjarsen. "What do you mean by
breaking up a game in the middle and vamoosing with the ball? Do you
think we're going to win this game on mileage? Turn around, you chump,
and climb into this car."

Ole looked around him sadly. He kept on running as he did. "Aye ent care
to stop," he said. "Aye kent suit you, Master Bost. You tal me Aye skoll
du a teng, den you cuss me for duing et. You tal me not to du a teng and
you cuss me some more den. Aye tenk I yust keep on a-running, lak yu
tal me tu last night. Et ent so hard bein' cussed ven yu ban running."

"I tell you to stop, you potato-top," gasped Bost. By this time he was
fifteen yards behind and losing at every step. He had wasted too much
breath on oratory. We picked him up in the car and set him alongside of
Ole again.

"See here, Ole, I'm tired of this," he said, sprinting up by him again.
"The game's waiting. Come on back. You're making a fool of yourself."

"Eny teng Aye du Aye ban beeg fule," said Ole gloomily. "Aye yust keep
on runnin'. Fallers ent got breath to call me fule ven Aye run. Aye tenk
das best vay."

We picked Bost up again thirty yards behind. Maybe he would have run
better if he hadn't choked so in his conversation. In another minute we
landed him abreast of Ole again. He got out and sprinted for the third
time. He wabbled as he did it.

"Ole," he panted, "I've been mistaken in you. You are all righ