nds which he held out to them.

He petted them all and talked to them in an affectionate murmur which
they answered by sundry lipnibbles and subdued snorts. Smoky he singled
out finally, rubbing his back and sides with the flat of his hand from
shoulder to flank, and so to the rump and down the thigh to the hock
to the scanty fetlock which told, to those who knew, that here was an
aristocrat among horses.

Smoky stood quiet, and Bud's hand lingered there, smoothing the slender
ankle. Bud's fingers felt the fine-haired tail, then gave a little
twitch. He was busy for a minute, kneeling in the sand with one knee,
his head bent. Then he stood up, went forward to Smoky's head, and stood
rubbing the horse's nose thoughtfully.

"I hate to do it, old boy--but I'm working to make's a home--we've got
to work together. And I'm not asking any more of you than I'd be willing
to do myself, if I were a horse and you were a man."

He gave the three horses a hasty pat apiece and started back across
the meadow to the fence. They followed him like pet dogs--and when Bud
glanced back over his shoulder he saw in the dim light that Smoky walked
with a slight limp.

CHAPTER TWELVE: SPORT O' KINGS

Sunday happened to be fair, with not too strong a wind blowing. Before
noon Little Lost ranch was a busy place, and just before dinner it
became busier. Horse-racing seemed to be as popular a sport in the
valley as dancing. Indeed, men came riding in who had not come to the
dance. The dry creek-bed where the horses would run had no road leading
to it, so that all vehicles came to Little Lost and remained there while
the passengers continued on foot to the races.

At the corral fresh shaven men, in clean shirts to distinguish this as a
dress-up occasion, foregathered, looking over the horses and making bets
and arguing. Pop shambled here and there, smoking cigarettes furiously
and keeping a keen ear toward the loudest betting. He came sidling up to
Bud, who was leading Smoky out of the stable, and his sharp eyes took in
every inch of the horse and went inquiringly to Bud's face.

"Goin' to run him, young feller--lame as what he is?" he demanded
sharply.

"Going to try, anyway," said Bud. "I've got a bet up on him, dad."

"Sho! Fixin' to lose, air ye? You kin call it off, like as not. Jeff
ain't so onreason'ble 't he'd make yuh run a lame horse. Air yuh, Jeff?"

Jeff strolled up and looked Smoky over with critical eyes. "What's the
m