t Bud had just left the Muleshoe, and
that he had been fired because of a fight with Dirk Tracy, the old
fellow cackled gleefully,

"Well, now, I guess you just about had yore hands full, young man," he
commented shrewdly. "Dirk ain't so easy to lick."

Bud immediately wanted to know why it was taken for granted that he had
whipped Dirk, and grandpa chortled again. "Now if you hadn't of licked
Dirk, you wouldn't of got fired," he retorted, and proceeded to relate
a good deal of harmless gossip which seemed to bear out the statement.
Dirk Tracy, according to grandpa, was the real boss of the Muleshoe, and
Bart was merely a figure-head.

All of this did not matter to Bud, but grandpa was garrulous. A good
deal of information Bud received while the two attended to the horses
and loitered at the corral gate.

Grandpa admired Smoky, and looked him over carefully, with those
caressing smoothings of mane and forelock which betray the lover of good
horseflesh.

"I reckon he's purty fast," he said, peering shrewdly into Bud's face.
"The boys has been talking about pulling off some horse races here next
Sunday--we got a good, straight, hard-packed creek-bed up here a piece
that has been cleaned of rocks fer a mile track, and they're goin' to
run a horse er two. Most generally they do, on Sunday, if work's slack.
You might git in on it, if you're around in these parts." He pushed his
back straight with his palms, turned his head sidewise and squinted at
Smoky through half-closed lids while he fumbled for cigarette material.

"I dunno but what I might be willin' to put up a few dollars on that
horse myself," he observed, "if you say he kin run. You wouldn't go an'
lie to an old feller like me, would yuh, son?"

Bud offered him the cigarette he had just rolled. "No, I won't lie to
you, dad," he grinned. "You know horses too well."

"Well, but kin he run? I want yore word on it."

"Well-yes, he's always been able to turn a cow," Bud admitted
cautiously.

"Ever run him fer money?" The old man began teetering from his toes to
his heels, and to hitch his shoulders forward and back.

"Well, no, not for money. I've run him once or twice for fun, just
trying to beat some of the boys to camp, maybe."

"Sho! That's no way to do! No way at all!" The old man spat angrily
into the dust of the corral. Then he thought of something. "Did yuh BEAT
'em?" he demanded sharply.

"Why, sure, I beat them!" Bud looked at him surprised, see