palm.

"Oh, all right--I have the five here in my pocket," called Marian, and
laughed quite convincingly. "Go on and run! We won't be able to breathe
freely until the race is over."

Wherefore Bud turned back, puzzled and with his heart jumping. For some
reason Marian had taken this means of getting a message into his hands.
What it could be he did not conjecture; but he had a vague, unreasoning
hope that she trusted him and was asking him to help her somehow. He
did not think that it concerned the race, so he did not risk opening the
note then, with so many people about.

A slim, narrow-eyed youth of about Bud's weight was chosen to ride
Skeeter, and together they went back over the course to the quarter
post, with Dave to start them and two or three others to make sure that
the race was fair. Smoky was full now of little prancing steps, and held
his neck arched while his nostrils flared in excitement, showing pink
within. Skeeter persistently danced sidewise, fighting the bit, crazy to
run.

Skeeter made two false starts, and when the pistol was fired, jumped
high into the air and forward, shaking his head, impatient against the
restraint his rider put upon him. Halfway down the stretch he lunged
sidewise toward Smoky, but that level-headed little horse swerved and
went on, shoulder to shoulder with the other. At the very last Skeeter
rolled a pebble under his foot and stumbled--and again Smoky came in
with his slaty nose in the lead.

Pop rode into the centre of the yelling crowd, his whiskers bristling.
"Shucks almighty!" he cried. "What fer ridin' do yuh call that there?
Jeff Hall, that feller held Skeeter in worse'n what you did yourself! I
kin prove it! I got a stop watch, an' I timed 'im, I did. An' I kin tell
yuh the time yore horse made when he run agin Dave's Boise. He's three
seconds--yes, by Christmas, he's four seconds slower t'day 'n what he's
ever run before! What fer sport d' you call that?" His voice went up and
cracked at the question mark like a boy in his early teens.

Jeff stalked forward to Skeeter's side. "Jake, did you pull Skeeter?"
he demanded sternly. "I'll swan if this ain't the belly-achiness bunch
I ever seen! How about it, Jake? Did Skeeter do his durndest, or didn't
he?

"Shore, he did!" Jake testified warmly. "I'da beat, too, if he hadn't
stumbled right at the last. Didn't yuh see him purty near go down? And
wasn't he within six inches of beatin'? I leave it to the crowd!"

T