Going Some Part 11

And the atmosphere at the Flying Heart Ranch was clearing. The gloom of the cowboys had given way to a growing excitement, a part of which communicated itself to the occupants of the house.

The la.s.situde of previous days was gone, the monotony had disappeared, and Miss Chapin had cause to rejoice at the presence of her latest guest, for Speed was like a tonic. He was everywhere, he inspired them all, laughter followed in his wake.

Even in the bunk-house the cowboys retailed his extravagant stories with delight. The Flying Heart had come into its own at last; the Centipede, most scorned and hated of rivals, was due for lasting defeat. Even Cloudy, the Indian, relaxed and spoke at rare intervals, while Willie worked about the place gleefully, singing s.n.a.t.c.hes of _Sam Ba.s.s_ in a tuneless falsetto.

Carara had come back from the Centipede with news that gladdened the hearts of his hearers: not only would that despicable outfit consent to run a foot-race, but they clamored for it. They did not d.i.c.ker over details nor haggle about terms, but consented to put up the phonograph again, and all the money at their disposal as well. The cook was in training.

Of all the denizens of the Flying Heart but two failed to enter fully into the spirit of the thing. Berkeley Fresno looked on with a cynicism which he was too wise to display before Miss Blake. Seeing the lady of his dreams monopolized by a rival, however, inspired him to sundry activities, and he spent much of his time among the cowboys, whom he found profitable to the point of mystery.

Mrs. Keap, the youthful chaperon, seemed likewise mastered by some private trouble, and puzzled her companions vaguely. Helen reported that she did not sleep, and once Jean found her crying softly. She seemed, moreover, to be apprehensive, in a tremulous, reasonless ways but when with friendly sympathy they brought the subject up, she dismissed it. In spite of secret tears, she had lent willing hands to the decoration of the gymnasium, and now nursed her swollen thumb with surprising good nature.

"Shall we let them in?" she inquired. "We have done all we can."

"Yes; we have finished."

In a flutter of antic.i.p.ation Jean and Helen put the final touches to their task, while Mrs. Keap stepped to the door and called Speed.

He came at once, followed by Larry Gla.s.s, who, upon grasping the scheme of decoration, smote his brow and balanced dizzily upon his heels. Speed was lost in admiration.

"Its wonderful!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the young athlete. "Those college flags give it just the right touch. And see the cosey-corner!"

Gla.s.s regained his voice sufficiently to murmur, sarcastically, "Say, ain't this a swell-looking drum?"

"We've used every bit of bunting on the ranch," said Jean.

"See the Mexican shawls!" Mrs. Keap added.

"And look," cried Miss Blake, "I brought you my prayer-rug!" She displayed a small Persian rug, worn and faded, evidently a thing of great age, at which Speed uttered an exclamation. "I always carry it with me, and put it in front of my bed wherever I happen to be."

Berkeley Fresno, drawn by the irresistible magnetism of Miss Blake's presence, wandered in and ran his eyes over the room.

Speed took the rug and examined it curiously. "It's an old-timer, isn't it? Must be one of the first settlers."

"Yes. It's thousands and thousands of years old. Father picked it up somewhere in Asia."

"How does it work?" queried Gla.s.s, feeling of it gingerly.

"It's a very holy thing," Helen explained. "The Mohammedan stands on it facing the East and cries 'Allah!'"

"Alley!" repeated the trainer. "No. Allah!"

"'Allah' is the Mohammedan divinity," explained Speed.

"I've got you." Gla.s.s was greatly interested.

"Then he makes his prayer. It is such a sacred thing that when one's feet are on it no harm can come to one."

"Well, what d'you think of that?" murmured the trainer.

Fresno laughed pleasantly. "It's too bad it isn't long enough to run this footrace on."

"Do you believe in the charm?" inquired Speed of Helen.

"Of course I do," she answered.

He laughed sceptically, whereupon Larry Gla.s.s broke in with husky accents:

"Nix on the comedy! I bet it's a wizard!"

His employer gazed warmly at the owner of the priceless treasure, and, taking the rug tenderly, pressed his lips to it.

Fresno shook his head in disgust; the brazen methods of this person were unbearable.

"Why all the colors?" asked he. "You can sing best where there is a piano. I can train best under the shadow of college emblems. I am a temperamental athlete."

"You'll be a dead athlete if you don't beat this cook." The Californian was angry.

"Indeed!" exclaimed his rival, airily.

"That's what I remarked. Did they tell you what happened to Humpy Joe, your predecessor?"

"It must have been an accident, judging from his name." At which Miss Blake t.i.ttered. She was growing to enjoy these pa.s.sages at arms; they thrilled her vaguely.

"The only accident connected with the affair was that Still Bill and Willie didn't have their guns."

Gla.s.s started nervously. "Did these rummies want to shoot him?"

he inquired.

"Certainly," said Fresno. "He lost a foot-race."

In spite of his a.s.surance, J. Wallingford Speed felt a tremor of anxiety, but he laughed it off, saying: "One would think a foot- race in this country was a pearl necklace."

"These cowboys ain't good losers, eh?" queried Gla.s.s.

"It's win or die out here."

During the ensuing pause Mrs. Keap took occasion to call Speed aside. "I have something to contribute to the training-quarters if you will help me bring it out," said she.

The young man bowed. "Most gladly."

"We'll be back in a little while," the chaperon announced to the others, and a moment later, when she and Speed had reached the veranda of the house, she paused.

"I--I want to speak to you," she began, hesitatingly. "It was just an excuse."

Wally looked at her with concern, for it was plain that she was deeply troubled.

"What is it?"

"I have been trying to get a word alone with you ever since I heard about this foot-race." The young man chilled with apprehension as Mrs. Keap turned her dark eyes upon him searchingly.

"Why do you want to run?"