"But he won't do it with me on his back. I'm a
trifle heavy fer fast work. I'll hev ter git Kit ter pilot him, I
reckon."
"I reckon you won't," said Stella. "If any one rides him it will be me.
I'm a good many pounds lighter than Kit."
"All right, Stella. I wanted yer ter ride him, but I didn't like ter
impose on good nature by askin' yer ter do it."
"Why, I'd love to ride the race. You ought to know me by this time."
"It's a go, an' if yer win, as win yer must, ther magpie hoss is yours."
"Oh, Bud, you don't mean it! Then I'll certainly ride to win."
So it was settled, and the old man and his grandson were accorded the
hospitality of the camp.
After a hearty supper, while they were all sitting around the fire, and
the old man was telling stories of his trip into the Southwest, for the
broncho boys were now herding a big bunch of range cattle in what is
known as No Man's Land, an arm of northern Texas lying west of Oklahoma,
and claimed by both, the day watch rode into camp, and, stripping their
saddles from their ponies, turned them loose.
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