on able.

One Saturday morning she told me that she was tired o' seein' Starlight
beat Hawkins on ten-mile dashes, an' she was goin' to have a real race
that day. She allus called the pinto "Hawkins" after I got back; she
had said it wouldn't be polite to call us both "Happy" an' as long as I
had owned both names the longest, she was willin' to give me my
choice--an' then she said 'at that wouldn't be quite fair to the
pinto--she was mighty rigid on bein' square--so she said 'at we'd have
to draw for 'em. She wrote "Happy" on one piece of paper an' "Hawkins"
on the other, put her hat in the pony's mouth,--she had taught him a
lot o' tricks,--an' I had to turn my back while she dropped in the
names. My luck was good, so I drawed "Happy," an' the pony was called
"Hawkins." I was feared I might have to go back to John, an' John's a
sort of a heavy baggage for a careless cuss to be luggin' around.

It was spring, an' the range was smooth an' tough. All through the snow
Starlight's long legs had given him a big advantage, but now her weight
made it a purty good bet either way. "Let 'em go grassin', Barbie," sez
I. "This fine young grass--"

"I knew you were afraid to make a fair test of it," she sez scornful.

"I ain't neither afraid," I sez, "but what's the use of a race just to
satisfy our curiosity?"

"What's the use of curiosity except to satisfy it?" sez Barbie, an' she
had me sure enough. A feller was a fool to argue with that little
witch. She allus had a come-back, an' the only way to get ahead of her
was either to boss or beg. I hadn't no authority to boss, an' I was too
blame young to beg, so she just about had me roped an' tied. "How far
are you goin' to race?" sez I.

"A hundred miles," sez she.

"Pshaw," sez I, "the country's wider'n that. Why don't you give'em a
decent work out."

"That'll be enough for this time," sez she, "an' if you hustle you can
have'em ready by five o'clock."

"Does the boss know?" sez I.

"He will sometime," sez she. "Now hustle."

It was a glorious day, an' I own up I was amused at the prospect. Both
hosses was hard as flint an' nervy. If I'd 'a' stayed at the ranch I'd
have collected up brandin' irons an' other truck for the round-up, an'
a hundred miles through spring sweetness was a heap sight more temptin'
to me; so I give in an' soon we was under way. "Where is the course
laid out, Barbie?" I sez. "You know I won't see much of you back there
in the ruck an' I want to