CHAPTER VI
The "Ringer's" Downfall
After the boys had been on the ranch some two or three weeks a new topicof interest came up. It seemed that every Fourth of July a greatcelebration was held in Helena, in which cowboys and ranchmen from manymiles around took part. All sorts of competitions were held, such asroping, throwing, target shooting, and so on. As the day drew near, itbecame the chief topic of conversation about the ranch, and everybody,with the exception of two or three who would have to stay to take care ofthe stock, intended to go and take part in the festivities.
Quite a feature of the present celebration was to be a one-mile runningrace. As a rule ranchmen and cowboys are not noted for their runningabilities, generally being more at home upon the back of a horse thanupon their own feet. But among the neighboring ranches there were severalfair runners, and among the townspeople there were others. The last yearor two a hot rivalry had existed between the ranchmen and "townies" overthe outcome of the running race, for in this event everybody, no matterwhat his daily occupation, could be interested.
The last year one of the men from the Bar X Ranch had taken the prizemoney, and the ranchers had all been jubilant. They imagined they hada fair chance to win this year's event with the same runner, and Mr.Melton's men thought so too. But one day late in June Chip returned froma trip to town with clouded brow.
"What do yuh think them low-down Piutes that calls themselves citizens ofHelena has been an' done now?"
"What's bitin' yuh, Chip?" asked Sandy. "Did somebody get your wad, orwhat?"
"No, nothin' like that," answered Chip. "I'll tell it to you jest the wayone o' the boys handed it to me. He says t' me, 'Waal, Chip, I reckonyou boys on the ranches hereabouts won't pick off the prize money thisyear in the footrace, will yuh?'
"'Oh, I don't know,' I answers him. 'Yuh never kin tell what's going tohappen, but we-all have a sneakin' idea that our man is jest goin' torun away from any shorthorn you guys kin put up.'
"'Oh, is that so?' he jeers, real triumphant-like, 'well, I got a littlepiece o' change that I'm willin' to put up on our man. How do yuh feel?'
"Waal, I wasn't goin' to let the guy bluff me, so I covers his money tothe tune o' fifty bucks. 'I s'pose Jenkins, the feller that nearly pulleddown the prize last year, is goin' to run fer you, ain't he' I asks,never suspicionin' that he'd say anythin' but 'yes.'
"'Not any,' he answers, grinnin' satisfied like; 'we've got another manthis year, an' a streak o' greased lightnin' is plumb slow an' ploddin'alongside him.'
"'An' who is this yere maverick?' I asks him, feelin' like somebody'd hitme when I wasn't lookin'.
"'Johnson is his brand,' says the sport; 'stick around a while an' I'llpoint him out t' yuh. There he is now,' he says sudden-like, pointin' toa guy amblin' along the sidewalk with half a dozen kids taggin' at hisheels, 'there's the guy what's goin' to make your runners look likecandidates from a young ladies' finishing school. Take a good look athim, Chip, so yuh'll know him the next time yuh see him.'
"Waal, boys, I took a good look, as this sport suggests, and I'm apop-eyed tenderfoot if I didn't recognize the guy right off. I couldn'tjest place him at first, but in a few seconds I remembered where I'd seenhim last."
"An' where was that?" questioned Sandy, while everybody listened eagerlyfor his answer.
"It was at a function thet come near bein' a lynchin' party," answeredChip. "I was up in a little town over the Canada border at the time, an'they had jest had a race like this yere one we-all has on the Fourth o'July, only they ain't no sech institution there, them folks bein' nothin'but benighted Britishers and Frenchmen. Howsum-ever, they'd had a race,and this maverick what's pointed out to me in Helena had won the race,together with most o' the loose change in the town. Suddenly a guy in thecrowd yells out: 'That feller's a 'ringer.' I seen him run in an Easternprofessional race onct.'"
"Waal, thet was like puttin' a match to powder, and them people was goin'to string the guy up, only the sheriff came along jest then and stoppedthe proceedin's. So that's when I see this party last."
"Yes, but he might not have been a 'ringer'," suggested Bert, who hadcome up and joined the group while Chip was speaking. "He might havebeen square, but the man that accused him probably had lost money, andmay have accused him just to get even. You don't have to prove much to anangry mob when they want to believe what you're telling them, anyway."
"Yes, I thought o' that," replied Chip, "but a few weeks arterward I comeacross an old newspaper with this party's picture engraved on thesportin' page, an' underneath it said, 'Albert Summers, the well-knownprofessional one-mile runner,' or words meanin' the same thing. I'd cleanforgot about it, though, until I sees this yere hoss thief paradin' thestreets o' Helena followed by the admirin' glances o' the populace."
The cowboys exchanged indignant glances, and Sandy said, "Mebbe the folksin Helena don't know this maverick's a professional."
"I suppose most o' them don't," replied Chip, "but the officials thethave charge o' the race are wise, all right. It looks as though I wasgoin' 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," remarkedBuck; "it riles me plumb fierce t' think of anybody puttin' over a gamelike that an' gettin' away with it."
"The best thing to do, I should think," remarked Bert, "would be to letthis Summers, or Johnson, or whatever his name is, run, and get somebodyto 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 thisprofessional sharp?"
"Not at all," said Bert with a grin. "I don't want to seem to boast, butI've done a little running myself at times, and I think if I enteredagainst this 'profesh' I might be able to give him a run for his money."
The cowboys looked somewhat incredulous, and Chip said, "I seen thisfeller run, m' lad, and he sure is fast, I got to admit that much. Haveyuh ever done much runnin'?"
"Quite some," replied Bert with a curious little smile. "The next timeyou talk to Trent or Henderson ask them about it, if you don't believeme."
He strolled off, and after he had gone the men held a consultation. Chipwas 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 thissharp. The boy would be out of his class, I reckon, if he came up againstthis yere sprinter."
The others seemed inclined to agree with Chip's view of the matter, butSandy demurred. "I've been watchin' that lad," he said, "an' I've noticedhe 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 uphis friends an' see what they say about it."
"Waal, thet's only fair," remarked one of the cowboys known to his matesonly as "Bud." "I vote we make Sandy an' Chip a committee o' two to seeTrent an' Henderson an' question them on this yere p'int. Yuh don't wantto fergit thet if we _could_ find somebody thet could beat this Helenacandidate we'd have it on them effete citizens so bad they'd wearmournin' fer a year."
This consideration had great weight with the others, and they allassented to Bud's proposition. It was agreed that at the firstopportunity Sandy and Chip should question Tom and Dick on the subject ofBert's running abilities, and so the matter was dropped for the present.
The "committee," however, kept it in mind, and when, as they werereturning to the bunkhouse that same evening, Chip and Sandy espied Dickand Tom at no great distance, riding along in leisurely fashion, theyimmediately hailed them.
On hearing their names called the two friends looked around, and, seeingthe ranchmen beckoning to them, cantered over in their direction, andquickly 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 bestway to b
ring up the subject. "Yuh see, it's this way. Some o' the boyshas heard thet your pal, Wilson, is somethin' of a runner, and we wasjest cur'ous to know ef it was so. Can you wise us up on this yere mootedp'int?"
Dick looked over at Tom and grinned. "You tell 'em, Tom," he said; "tellthem whether Bert can run or not."
"Well," said Tom, "Bert isn't such an awful good runner, no. He's neverdone a thing in that line except win the Marathon run at the last Olympicgames, break every college record from one to twenty-five miles, and setup a new world's record for the five mile distance. Outside of that hecan't run worth a cent, can he, Dick?"
For a moment Dick was too amused watching the faces of the two ranchmento 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 andcatching it deftly as it descended. "No wonder he seemed so confidentwhen he offered to run fer us. At thet time I kind a' thought he was jeststringin' us along."
"You'll find that when Bert says a thing he generally means it," remarkedDick, "but what is it all about, anyway? What was it that he offered torun in?"
Sandy then proceeded to explain all that had occurred that morning, andwhen he had finished both Tom and Dick gave a long whistle.
"So that's how the land lies, is it?" exclaimed Dick; "the old sinner'snever satisfied unless he's winning something or other, is he?"
"You said something that time," acquiesced Tom, a note of pride in hisvoice; "if excitement won't come to him, he goes looking for it. That'shis style, every time."
The two cowboys did not stop to hear any more, but hurried off excitedlyto take the news to their companions. They burst into the bunkhouse,where the men had already sat down to supper.
"Boys, we're all a bunch o' locoed Piutes," yelled Sandy. "Do you knowwho this boy Wilson is, eh? He's the feller that won the Marathon ferUncle Sam at the Olympic games, an' we never knew it. Somebody kindlymake the remarks fer me thet 're approp'rite on sech an occasion."
For a few seconds, astonished exclamations of a very forceful characterfilled the air, but soon the cowboys quieted down somewhat, and began todiscuss the surprising news in every detail. Everybody was jubilant, andalready they could picture the chagrin of the townspeople when theirfavorite was beaten.
"But we don't want to be too certain of winnin', at that," cautioned Bud;"arter all, that Helena runner is a professional, an' Wilson is only anamateur, no matter how good he may be. A feller thet makes a livin' outof a thing is likely to do it better than the sport thet does it fer fun,leastwise, thet's the way I figger it out."
"Thet's all right," spoke up Reddy, "but ef yuh can remember that farback, you'll rec-lect that his pals told us he held a world's record ferfive miles. Waal, now, they must 'a' been lots o' professionals runnin'thet distance, and in spite of everythin' they never did no better'nthet. What've yuh got to say t' that, eh?"
Thus the discussion raged, and the cowboys stayed up much later thanusual that night arguing every phase of the forthcoming race pro andcon. As is usually the case in such discussions, they reached nodecision, beyond unanimously agreeing that the best man would win,a proposition that few people would care to argue.
In the meantime the three comrades had met at Mr. Melton's hospitableboard, and Dick and Tom recounted with great mirth the surprise ofthe cowboys on hearing of Bert's athletic prowess.
"It was better than a circus," laughed Dick. "I never saw two moresurprised faces in my life."
"I either," said Tom. "I guess they must have thought Bert was championof some hick village before they consulted us."
"I could see that was their idea when I offered to run," grinned Bert;"that's why I referred them to you."
"The boys place a lot of importance on the foot race," said Mr. Melton;"in the other events they're chiefly competing against each other, but inthat they meet the townspeople on common ground, and it means a lot tothem to win. And if the winner comes from their own particular ranch,that makes the victory all the more sweet."
"Well," remarked Bert, "if I do run in that race, as it seems very likelyI shall, I'll certainly do my best to win for the ranch. I don't supposethere'll be much competition outside of this 'ringer,' anyway."
"No, I don't think there'll be much competition for _you_," smiled Mr.Melton, "but just the same there'll be some pretty fair runners in thatrace, and they may make you hustle a little at that."
"I hope they do," said Bert, "but the only thing I'm going in the racefor is to show up that crooked runner. It's such fellows as he that givethe sport a bad name. I'll do everything in my power to discourage itwhenever I get the chance."
"That's the talk," encouraged Tom, "go to it, old boy, and show him up.Besides, it will put you in more solid than ever with the cowboys here.They've got a pretty good idea of you already, I imagine, and this willcinch matters."
"It will give me an awful black eye if I should happen to get licked,"laughed Bert; "you never seem to think of that side of it."
"No, we'll have to admit that we don't take that into considerationmuch," said Dick; "you seem to have such an inveterate habit of winningthat we rather take it as a matter of course."
"I don't take it as a matter of course, though, not by a long sight,"said Bert; "many a fellow's got tripped up by being over-confident, andnot waking up until it was too late. I go into anything like that withthe idea that if I don't do my very best I _may_ lose. And then, if aperson does lose a race, that excuse of 'over-confidence' doesn't go along way, I've noticed."
"No, it's better to be on the safe side, I guess," admitted Dick. "Butare you going to train at all for this race?"
"Nothing to speak of," answered Bert. "The life we're living these dayskeeps a fellow about as fit as he can be, anyway. I feel as though Icould start running at a minute's notice and give a good account ofmyself."
They talked over matters in this fashion until they had discussed theforthcoming event at every angle, and then separated for the night.
From that time on little else was thought or talked of about the ranch.Even the roping and riding contests were relegated to the background.News that the Bar Z boys had a promising candidate had been circulatedamong the neighboring ranches, and there was almost as much excitementrife on them as on Mr. Melton's. The cowboys were always questioning Dickand Tom in regard to Bert's "past performances," and never tired ofhearing his exploits as told by his enthusiastic friends.
Never was a day so looked forward to as the Fourth of July that year, andnever did a day seem so long in coming. The last days of June werechecked off one by one on a highly colored calendar suspended against thewall of the bunkhouse, and at last the impatient ranchers tore the Junesheet off, or, as Chip put it, "took a month off."
Saddles were gone over, oiled and polished, and when at last thelonged-for day arrived every preparation had been made to celebrate itfittingly. Everybody on the ranch was up before the sun, and after ahasty breakfast they sallied forth to town.
The three comrades rode with them, and the cowboys surrounded them as asort of bodyguard. Mr. Melton was not able to accompany them, as he hadsome pressing business affairs to attend to, but he had promised to reachtown before the running race, which was not to take place until theafternoon, was "pulled off."
It was a beautiful day and the ranchmen were in high spirits. Theylaughed and shouted and indulged in rough horse-play like a crowd ofschool-boys out for a lark, and the boys did their full share to add tothe general gaiety. The long miles slipped unnoticed behind them, and thesun was not far above the eastern horizon when the party cantered intoHelena.
The town was gaily bedecked in honor of the occasion. The houses weredraped with flags and bunting, and in many cases long colored streamersfluttered from the windows and roofs.
The cowboys set spurs to their ponies, and swept
down the street likea veritable cyclone. They met other parties who had just arrived, andexchanged greetings with the many friends among them. There was an airof merry-making and good-fellowship in the air that was infectious, andeverybody seemed to be enjoying themselves.
"They certainly know how to have a good time," remarked Dick. "I guessit's because they have so few holidays that they enjoy them all the morewhen they do come."
Along the streets booths were lined, selling anything from a ten-centpocket knife to a blue-barreled Colts revolver. The numerous saloons weregoing full blast, and were doing a profitable business. Nobody is more ofa spendthrift than your true cowboy when he is out on pleasure bent, andthe fakirs and saloon-keepers were taking full advantage of that fact.
The party from Melton's ranch, with the exception of the three boys, lostno time in slaking the thirst occasioned by their ride over the prairie,and then they all repaired to the scene of the first event on theentertainment programme, which proved to be a roping and tying contest.Chip entered this and narrowly missed winning the prize.
"Tough luck, old timer," consoled Sandy, "but better luck next time. Youmade a good stab at it, anyhow."
Other events were run off in quick succession, with the excitementrunning high and keeping everybody at fever heat. The boys from the homeranch won their share of the honors and a little over, and wereproportionately jubilant. "An' ef Wilson wins that race this arternoon,"said Sandy, "the boys from the ranch will feel so dawgoned good thet theywon't be able t' kick about nothin' fer a year t' come."
"Thet's a good one, thet is," jeered one of the townspeople who hadoverheard this remark. "Why, that guy Wilson ain't got even a look-in.Our champ will make him look like an also ran."
"Is that so?" replied Sandy sarcastically. "Well, yuh just stick aroundthis arternoon, an' yuh'll realize what a plumb egreg'us idjut a fellercan become by livin' in town a spell. Why, yuh poor boob, the felleryou're backin' to rake in the chips ain't got even a ghost of a show."
Others of the citizens began to join in the argument, and words werebeginning to run high when Hotchkiss, the sheriff, galloped up on hishorse. "Here, here, boys," he exclaimed, "no hard feelin' on the gloriousFourth. We're all here to have a good time, an' anybody that don't thinkso can talk to me."
"All right, Bill," said Sandy soothingly; "we warn't allowin' to havea scrap, but the people o' this yere town is got too big a idea o'themselves, thet's all."
"Come away, Sandy," advised Dick, laughing. "Maybe we'll take a little ofthe starch out of them this afternoon."
Sandy at last allowed himself to be persuaded, and the cowboys rode off.Soon afterward the three boys left them, for they had arranged with Mr.Melton to lunch with him at the principal hotel.
When they entered its doors he was waiting for them in the lobby, hisgenial face beaming.
"Well, my lads," he exclaimed, "how do you like the way we spend ourholidays out here, eh?"
"Great!" exclaimed Bert, speaking for the others; "the boys certainlyknow how to make things hum when they get started. There's somethingdoing every minute."
"Yes, they're a great lot," said Mr. Melton. "They're hot tempered andinclined to jump too quickly into a quarrel, but their hearts are alwaysin the right place, and they're loyal to the core. But how do you feel,Bert?" suddenly changing the subject. "Have you got your winged shoes onto-day?"
"Never felt more like running in my life," smiled Bert. "Anybody thatbeats me to-day will have to travel a little, I think."
"Good!" exclaimed the rancher, "that's the kind of talk I like to hear.Everybody I've talked to in the hotel here seems to think that thisJohnson is going to have things all his own way, and I want you to givethem the surprise of their lives."
The fact that Bert was a Marathon winner was not generally known, andeverybody in town thought that their candidate would have an unknownrunner pitted against him, whom he could easily vanquish. It was,therefore, with feelings of the utmost confidence that they streamedtoward the place where the race was to be held. They bantered the cowboysthey met unmercifully, but the latter kept their own counsel, and onlysmiled in a knowing fashion. Money was bet freely on both sides, andthose who lost stood to lose heavily.
After the boys had finished luncheon, they and Mr. Melton repaired to themeeting place. The race was to be run around a one-mile oval track, andfive men were entered as contestants. Besides Bert and Johnson, thewinner of the previous race, Jed Barnes, was to race, and two other menfrom neighboring ranches. As soon as the boys and Mr. Melton reached thetrack they parted, the former seeking out the dressing room, and thelatter securing a seat in the grand stand.
Bert got into his racing togs immediately, and his comrades left him andwalked out to secure seats for themselves. This was soon done, and theysettled themselves, waiting as best they could for the start.
The stand and field filled rapidly until at last, when the gates wereclosed, every available space was occupied by a tightly packed, expectantthrong. Suddenly a whistle blew and a few seconds afterward the runnerswalked out and proceeded to draw lots for the choice of position. Bertdrew third from the inside rail, Jed Barnes second, and Johnson securedthe best place next to the rail.
"That makes a rather bad handicap for Bert," said Tom anxiously. "I wishhe could have gotten a better position."
"Oh, well, it might be worse," said Dick, but it must be confessed he wasa little worried also. Johnson was a well-built athlete, and seemed to bein the best of condition. Dick recalled that Bert had not gone throughany special training, and was assailed with misgivings. However, he hadnot long to wait. The runners took their places, and the starter raisedhis pistol in the air.
"Get set!" he called, and amid a breathless silence the racers crouchedover, their fingers barely touching the ground.
Crack! went the pistol, and amid a roar from the spectators the fiveathletes sprang ahead as though released from a catapult. Elbows pressedagainst their sides, heads up, they made a thrilling picture, and thecrowd cheered wildly. At first they kept well together, but they weresetting a fast pace, and soon one of the men began to lag behind. Butlittle attention was paid him, for interest was concentrated on Bert,Johnson and Barnes. Before they were half way around the oval the fourthman had dropped out, so the race had narrowed down to these three.
Suddenly Bert increased his stride a little, and spurted ahead. A wildshout went up from the spectators, and those who had not already doneso leaped to their feet. "Wilson! Wilson!" chanted the cowboy contingent,while the townspeople no less vociferously reiterated the name of theirfavorite.
But the "ringer" was not to be shaken off, and he in turn put on a burstof speed that carried him into the lead. As the runners rounded thethree-quarter mile mark he was still leading, and Barnes was lagging farto the rear, evidently done for as far as the race was concerned. Chiphad said that Johnson could "move some," and the professional did notbelie his reputation. Apparently, Bert was unable to close up the gap ofnearly a yard that now separated him from his rival, and the yells andcheers of the citizens redoubled, while those of the cowboys died down.Mr. Melton chewed the end of his cigar fiercely, and swore softly tohimself.
But Tom and Dick were not deceived. "The old reprobate's only stalling,"yelled Dick into Tom's ear, at the same time pounding him frantically onthe back. "He isn't going his limit, by a whole lot. Watch him, now, justwatch----" but his words were drowned in the shrill cowboy yell thatsplit the air. "Yi, yi, yi!" they shouted, half crazy with excitement.For Bert, their champion, suddenly seemed to be galvanized into furiousaction. He leaped ahead, seeming to dart through the air as thoughequipped with wings. Johnson gave a startled glance over his shoulder,and then exerted himself to the utmost. But he might as well have stoodstill as far as any good it did him was concerned. Bert was resolved tomake a decisive finish, and show these doubting Westerners what a son ofthe East could do. Over the last hundred yards of the course he exertedevery ounce of strength in him, and the result was as decisive as ev
enDick and Tom could desire. Amid a tremendous pandemonium he dashed downthe stretch like a thunderbolt, and breasted the tape sixty feet inadvance of his laboring rival.
Words fail to describe the uproar that then broke loose. A yelling mob ofcowboys swept down onto the field, and, surrounding Bert, showered praiseand congratulations. Swearing joyfully, Reddy, Chip, Bud and several ofthe others of the cross diamond outfit elbowed their way through thecrowd at one point, while Mr. Melton, Dick and Tom edged through atanother.
"All right, boys," laughed Mr. Melton, "give him a chance to get hisbreath back, though, before you shake his hands off altogether. Let'swork a path to the dressing room for him."
This was no sooner said than done. Dick and Tom, assisted by Reddy andthe others, fought a path through the excited crowd, and at last gotBert into the dressing room under the grandstand.
"Waal, m' lad, yuh certainly put it all over that maverick," exultedReddy; "one time there, though, we figgered he had you beaten to astand-still. It was sure a treat the way yuh breezed past him at thefinish, it sure was."
"I was worried some myself," admitted Mr. Melton, "but I suppose I oughtto have known better."
Meanwhile Bert had taken a shower, and started to dress. In a few minuteshe was ready to leave the dressing room, and they all started out. Justas Bert was going through the door Johnson, who had had a hard timegetting through the crowd, entered. As they passed Bert said, "Maybe thiswill teach you to stick to straight racing, Summers. Take my advice andcut out the crooked stuff. It doesn't pay in the end."
The defeated athlete started, and muttered an oath. "I know who you arenow," he exclaimed. "I recognized you first thing, but couldn't placeyou. It's just my luck," he continued bitterly. "If I'd had any idea whoI was going to run against I'd have backed out. But I'll get even withyou some day for queering my game, see if I don't."
"Do your worst," invited Bert. "So long," and he hastened after hisfriends, who had gone on slowly during this time. "What did he say?"inquired Tom, and Bert repeated the substance of the brief exchange oftalk. "But I'm not worrying much over his threats," he finished. "Iimagine he'll be a little more careful in the future."
They then repaired directly to the hotel, where they had supper.Afterward they went out again to view an elaborate display of fireworksgiven under the auspices of the town. Everywhere were hilarious cowboys,who as soon as they recognized Bert crowded about the party and madeprogress difficult. At last they struggled to a point of vantage wherethey could see everything going on, and spent an enjoyable evening.
About ten o'clock they returned to the hotel, and after securing theirponies set out on the long ride back to camp, accompanied by such of theranchmen as could tear themselves away so early. They straggled in singlyand in couples all the next day, and it was almost a week before theaffairs of the ranch settled down into their usual well-orderedcondition.
From that time on, the regard in which the three comrades were held bythe rough Westerners never wavered, and the cowboys never wearied ofdiscussing again and again the details of the great race that clipped thewings of the "townies."