wboys known to his mates
only as "Bud." "I vote we make Sandy an' Chip a committee o' two to see
Trent an' Henderson an' question them on this yere p'int. Yuh don't want
to fergit thet if we _could_ find somebody thet could beat this Helena
candidate we'd have it on them effete citizens so bad they'd wear
mournin' fer a year."

This consideration had great weight with the others, and they all
assented to Bud's proposition. It was agreed that at the first
opportunity Sandy and Chip should question Tom and Dick on the subject of
Bert's running abilities, and so the matter was dropped for the present.

The "committee," however, kept it in mind, and when, as they were
returning to the bunkhouse that same evening, Chip and Sandy espied Dick
and Tom at no great distance, riding along in leisurely fashion, they
immediately hailed them.

On hearing their names called the two friends looked around, and, seeing
the ranchmen beckoning to them, cantered over in their direction, and
quickly reached the spot on which they were standing.

"What's up?" questioned Dick, "anything wrong?"

"No, not 'specially," answered Sandy, slightly at a loss as to the best
way to bring up the subject. "Yuh see, it's this way. Some o' the boys
has heard thet your pal, Wilson, is somethin' of a runner, and we was
jest cur'ous to know ef it was so. Can you wise us up on this yere mooted
p'int?"

Dick looked over at Tom and grinned. "You tell 'em, Tom," he said; "tell
them whether Bert can run or not."

"Well," said Tom, "Bert isn't such an awful good runner, no. He's never
done a thing in that line except win the Marathon run at the last Olympic
games, break every college record from one to twenty-five miles, and set
up a new world's record for the five mile distance. Outside of that he
can't run worth a cent, can he, Dick?"

For a moment Dick was too amused watching the faces of the two ranchmen
to answer. "Wh-what are yuh tryin' t' hand us, anyhow," demanded Chip.
"Do yuh really mean he's the same Wilson thet won the big Marathon race?"

"Straight goods," answered Dick; "if you don't believe it, ask Melton."

"Whoop-ee!" yelled Sandy, throwing his sombrero high in the air and
catching it deftly as it descended. "No wonder he seemed so confident
when he offered to run fer us. At thet time I kind a' thought he was jest
stringin' us along."

"You'll find that when Bert says a thing he generally means it," remarked
Dick, "but what is it all a