e to win over that Indian pony.
It would never do to have the broncho win."

There seemed no probability of that; but there was one group of
interested white men who were not quite so satisfied. Cattleman Kyle and
all the ranchers on the Cheyenne wanted a sure thing; and there was no
way to make sure, but by a trial race that was a real race. So they used
the old-time trick of the white man who wishes to get ahead of the
Indian: they hired another Indian to help them.

There had always been war and hatred between the Crows and the Sioux.
The war was over for the present; but the Crows were very ready to help
any one against their former enemies. Enlisted by the ranchers the Crow
spies reported that the Sioux were training their horse not ten miles
away in a secluded secret canyon of the Yellowbank, a tributary of the
Cheyenne River. And thither by night, with all possible secrecy, went
Kyle with a dozen more. Among them was Hartigan. Why? Partly because
they wanted him along, for his knowledge of horses and jockeys, and
chiefly because he himself was mad to go, when he heard of it. The whole
colour of the adventure, the mere fact of its being an adventure, were
overpowering to his untamed twenty-five-year-old spirit.

They hid their horses in a distant valley; then, in the early dawn, they
followed their dusky guide to a little butte, where they made themselves
as comfortable as possible to await the sunrise.

"Well," said Jim, "considering I'm freezing to death an' mortal hungry,
and sitting on a bunch of cactus, and playing pick-pocket with another
man's secrets and ashamed of myself, I'm having a divil of a fine time!"
And they chattered and their teeth chattered, till a dog barked far
below, and they heard the coyotes singing back their long soft call; and
in the growing light they discovered an Indian tepee, with smoke issuing
from the vent hole. Near by was a rude corral. The smoke increased--then
grew less; soon sparks flew out; the light in the sky grew brighter; the
music of the coyotes died away; and, in a little while, the glory of the
sun was over the world.

Now they saw an old woman go forth to the corral and, following her, a
youth. Unfastening the rude gate, they entered; and the boy presently
rode forth on a beautiful buckskin pony, well made and spirited. Yes,
the very same one they had seen on the race track at Fort Ryan. They saw
him ridden to water; then, after a short canter, back to the corral