gave him a light feed and walked him gently up
and down. Then, as the sun rose, he was taken for a short canter.

"He's pretty good," said the jockey as they came in, "but nothing
wonderful that I can see."

Meanwhile, Red Rover was also watered, fed, rubbed down, limbered up,
and after every loving, horse-wise care was spent on both animals, the
jockeys were given their mounts and headed for the starting point on the
two-mile course.

First they ambled easily around the track to study the ground. They
started together and ran neck and neck for a quarter of a mile, then
pulled rein, as this was a mere warm-up. Then they returned to the
starting post, and the cowboy jockey on the buckskin said: "Well, boys,
he's a good bronk, but I don't seem to feel any blood in him."

At the signal, they went off together, and behind them Captain Wayne,
the Preacher, and a dozen more white men who were interested. These
onlookers dropped behind as the racers went at high speed, but the view
was clear, even when afar. The tall sorrel horse was a little ahead, but
the buckskin displayed surprising power and speed. At the turning point
he was very little behind. And now, on the home run, was to be the real
trial. Would the bottom of the prairie pony overmatch the legs of the
blooded horse?

The spectators were assembled at the place half way down, to meet them
coming back, and follow close behind. It grew very exciting as both
horses developed their best speed, and as they came to the winning post,
it was clear to all that the buckskin had no chance in a fair race with
Red Rover. It was incidentally clear to Hartigan, and those near by,
that Red Rover had no chance against Blazing Star, even though the
latter bore a heavy load; but that was not the point of general
interest.

The serious business happily done, they tenderly groomed the buckskin
and returned him to the corral, gave him a good supply of hay and said
good-bye to the drunken Indians, the two-faced Chamreau, and the
glorious Yellowbank, with its lonely lodge, its strange corral and its
growlsome Indian dog.

CHAPTER XXVI

Preparing For the Day

They were a merry lot that galloped back to Fort Ryan that morning, and
a still merrier crowd that gathered at Cedar Mountain, when it was
whispered about that in a fair and square try-out the buckskin cayuse
was badly beaten by Red Rover. The white men had a dead sure thing. "Now
is the time, boys, most anything you