great attendance and at all such times horse-racing was the favourite
sport.

On the Fourth of July of that year the Indians had produced an
extraordinary buckskin cayuse which, in spite of its humble origin and
raw exterior, had proved speedy enough to defeat all opposition and
capture the big purse. Interest in the opportunity for revenge had grown
every day since, and the fact that each Indian family was to get one
hundred dollars in cash, enhanced the chances of a fat purse. A winning
horse was the first need of the ranchmen and they turned at once to
Hartigan and Blazing Star. They were much taken aback to receive from
him a flat refusal to enter or to let any one else enter Blazing Star
for a race. In vain they held out great inducements, possibilities of a
huge fortune, certainly of a big lump sum down in advance, or almost any
price he chose to ask for Blazing Star.

Hartigan's reply was an emphatic "No." And that was the end of it.

There was nothing for the whites to do but find another racer. There
certainly was no such horse as they needed in all the country; had there
been, they would have known it; and those who took the matter to heart
were planning a visit to Illinois or Kentucky even, where it was simply
a matter of money to get a blooded horse that would settle the issue.

While on a long hard trip for the spiritual help of brethren in the
South, Jim was left for a day at Chadron, Nebraska, a distributing point
for settlers coming to the Platte. With the instinct born of his Western
life, Jim made for the big horse corral, which is always on the
outskirts of a prairie town and where he knew he could pass a pleasant
hour or more. It was, as usual, crowded with horses of low and middle
class degree--some old and worn, some young and raw, many extraordinary
pintos, one or two mounts above the average of size or beauty, but
nothing to secure more than passing attention.

The scene in and about the corral held a great fascination for Jim.
There were cowboys and stable hands; farmers whose horses were in the
corral or whose homes were in the prairie schooners anchored on the
plain near-by; men were coming and going, and groups of children
rollicked about the camp fire.

As Hartigan looked on, a young fellow--whose soft, slow speech and
"r"-less words were certain proof of Southern birth--led from a stable a
tall, clean-limbed horse and, flopping into the saddle with easy
carelessness, rode away. As he