o
should ride up on the Spanish mule but our Tennessee friend. If
anything, he was a trifle more talkative and boastful than before,
which was easily accounted for, as it was evident that he was
drinking; and producing a large bottle which had but a few drinks left
in it, insisted on every one taking a drink with him. He said he was
encamped half a mile down the river, and that he would race his mare
against our horse for fifty dollars; that if we were in earnest, and
would go back with him and post our money at the tent, he would cover
it. Then Stallings in turn became crafty and diplomatic, and after
asking a number of unimportant questions regarding conditions,
returned to the joint with the old man, taking Fox Quarternight. To
the rest of us it looked as though there was going to be no chance to
bet a dollar even. But after the herd had been watered and we had
grazed out some distance from the river, the two worthies returned.
They had posted their money, and all the conditions were agreed upon;
the race was to take place at sundown over at the saloon and gambling
joint. In reply to an earnest inquiry by Bob Blades, the outfit were
informed that we might get some side bets with the gamblers, but the
money already posted was theirs, win or lose. This selfishness was not
looked upon very favorably, and some harsh comments were made, but
Stallings and Quarternight were immovable.

We had an early supper, and pressing in McCann to assist The Rebel in
grazing the herd until our return, the cavalcade set out, Flood and
the horse buyer with us. My bunkie urged me to let him keep my money,
but under the pretense of some of the outfit wanting to borrow it, I
took it with me. The race was to be catch weights, and as Rod Wheat
was the lightest in our outfit, the riding fell to him. On the way
over I worked Bull Durham out to one side, and after explaining the
jacketing I had got from Priest, and the partial promise I had made
not to bet, gave him my forty dollars to wager for me if he got a
chance. Bull and I were good friends, and on the understanding that it
was to be a secret, I intimated that some of the velvet would line his
purse. On reaching the tent, we found about half a dozen men loitering
around, among them the old man, who promptly invited us all to have a
drink with him. A number of us accepted and took a chance against the
vintage of this canvas roadhouse, though the warnings of the Montana
horse buyer were full