low? And so the major has scratched his mount, giving out
that Dixie has developed eczema.

"Now, the colonel is searching high and low for a jockey capable of
handling The Rogue. It'll take a good man. I recommended you. He doesn't
know your identity, for the major and I have kept it from him. He only
thinks you are _the_ Garrison who has come back. I have fixed it up with
him that you are to ride his mount, and The Rogue will arrive to-morrow.

"The colonel is a wreck mentally and physically; living on nerve. I've
agreed to put the finishing touches on The Rogue, and he, knowing my
ability and facilities, has permitted me. It's all in my hands--pretty
near. Now, Red McGloin is up on the Morgan entry--Swallow. He used to be
a stable-boy for Waterbury. I guess you've heard of him. He's developed
into a first-class boy. But I want to see you lick the hide off him. The
fight will lie between you and him. I know the rest of the field--"

"But Speedaway?" cried Garrison, jumping to his feet. "Jimmie--you! It's
too great a sacrifice; too great, too great. I know how you've longed
to win the Carter; what it means to you; how you have slaved to earn
it. Jimmie--Jimmie--don't tempt me. You can't mean you've scratched
Speedaway!"

"Just that, kid," said Drake grimly. "The first scratch in my life--and
the last. Speedaway? Well, she and I will win again some other time.
Some time, kid, when we ain't playing against a man's life and a girl's
happiness. I'll scratch for those odds. It's for you, kid--you and the
girl. Remember, you're carrying her colors, her life.

"You'll have a good fight--but fight as you never fought before; as you
never hope to fight again. Cottonton will watch you, kid. Don't shame
them; don't shame me. Show 'em what you're made of. Show Red that
a former stable-boy, no matter what class he is now, can't have the
licking of a former master. Show 'em a has-been can come back. Show 'em
what Garrison stands for. Show 'em your finish, kid--I'll ask no more.
And you'll carry Jimmie Drake's heart--Oh, fuss! I can't tell a yarn,
nohow."

In silence Garrison gripped Drake's hand. And if ever a mighty
resolution was welded in a human heart--a resolution born of love,
everything; one that nothing could deny--it was born that moment in
Garrison's. Born as the tears stood in his eyes, and, man as he was, he
could not keep up; nor did he shame his manhood by denying them. "Kid,
kid," said Drake.

CHAPTER XV.