he
response.

That was the beginning of bargaining, and the end was that the
Kentuckian got two native saddle horses and two hundred and fifty
dollars cash. Cattleman Kyle got the beautiful Red Rover and Jim
Hartigan experienced just a twinge of jealousy as he saw the new
champion and heard his praises sung. Kyle's intention had been to keep
Red Rover and rejoice in the beauty and power of the new possession; but
the problem of how to win the next race made every other consideration
secondary.

It is well known that a skilful trainer can knock twenty-five seconds
off a horse's mile time; or even more, if he can be trained on clean
oats and timothy hay. There were oats, hay and skilful trainers in the
cavalry barracks at Fort Ryan. There were none of these things at Kyle's
ranch on the Big Cheyenne; hence, after much debate, Red Rover was
transferred, without profit or loss, to Captain Wayne and was
thenceforth the central figure and chiefest hope of the Fort Ryan
stables.

Naturally, one of the first things to be done was to get a gauge on Red
Rover's speed by a race with Blazing Star. It was only a race "for fun,"
and Jim gave his place to a lighter man; but he watched with an
eagerness not easily expressed in words, and his heart swelled with
joy--yes, into his very throat--when it was made clear, that, while Red
Rover was good, Blazing Star was better.

All these things were events of the first magnitude to the horseman's
world that centred at Fort Ryan. The love of horses is common to most
men, but it is dominant in the West, and rampant in the mounted soldier.
The general interest of officers and men grew into a very keen and
personal interest as the training went on, and touched fever heat when
it was definitely announced that on Treaty Day, September fifteenth,
there was to be a race for a purse of one hundred dollars, as a nominal
consideration, and betting to any extent on the side. Meanwhile, word
was sent to the Pine Ridge Agency that the whites were not discouraged
by their defeat in July, but would come again with their horse in the
Corn Feast time for a new race.

Then, one fine morning in early August, a long procession of Indians
appeared on the hills, singing their marching songs, trailing their
travois and tepee poles. They set up their camp not far from Fort Ryan;
and soon, Red Cloud, with a few who were near him, rode in to call on
Colonel Waller. The latter received them on the piazza of his