th it said, 'Albert Summers, the well-known
professional one-mile runner,' or words meanin' the same thing. I'd clean
forgot about it, though, until I sees this yere hoss thief paradin' the
streets o' Helena followed by the admirin' glances o' the populace."

The cowboys exchanged indignant glances, and Sandy said, "Mebbe the folks
in Helena don't know this maverick's a professional."

"I suppose most o' them don't," replied Chip, "but the officials thet
have charge o' the race are wise, all right. It looks as though I was
goin' to be out fifty hard-earned dollars, but it will keep the rest o'
yuh boys from losin' any o' your money, anyhow."

"Seems t' me it's up to us t' give this here shell game away," remarked
Buck; "it riles me plumb fierce t' think of anybody puttin' over a game
like that an' gettin' away with it."

"The best thing to do, I should think," remarked Bert, "would be to let
this Summers, or Johnson, or whatever his name is, run, and get somebody
to beat him. That would be doing things artistically, as you might say."

"What do yuh mean?" queried Sandy, speaking for his surprised companions,
"yuh think we ought t' get a 'ringer' on our own account to beat this
professional sharp?"

"Not at all," said Bert with a grin. "I don't want to seem to boast, but
I've done a little running myself at times, and I think if I entered
against this 'profesh' I might be able to give him a run for his money."

The cowboys looked somewhat incredulous, and Chip said, "I seen this
feller run, m' lad, and he sure is fast, I got to admit that much. Have
yuh ever done much runnin'?"

"Quite some," replied Bert with a curious little smile. "The next time
you talk to Trent or Henderson ask them about it, if you don't believe
me."

He strolled off, and after he had gone the men held a consultation. Chip
was openly skeptical regarding Bert's offer to run. "He's a fine lad an'
all that," he opined, "but it takes more than an amateur to beat this
sharp. The boy would be out of his class, I reckon, if he came up against
this yere sprinter."

The others seemed inclined to agree with Chip's view of the matter, but
Sandy demurred. "I've been watchin' that lad," he said, "an' I've noticed
he don't usually go around shootin' off his mouth about nothin'. Seems t'
me before we pass up his proposition it might be a good idea to look up
his friends an' see what they say about it."

"Waal, thet's only fair," remarked one of the co