“We’re caught up now, and we can catch up again if we have to,” said Ashton. “You leave Evans in charge here and bring down five of the best hitches to Monte next Wednesday. It’ll take you a day to drive over, so leave here Monday morning--see that every wagon is tiptop, every mule in good shape, every driver----” “Yes, sir!” said the wagon boss. When news of the race, and of the boss’ unusual interest in it, spread through the camp, the drivers went wild with excitement. McCarthy found himself besieged by every one of the thirty-odd skinners on the division. He saw Ashton safely on his way, and then set to work to pick his rodeo team. The first driver he thought of--and there was nothing strange about it, seeing he had the best working hitch in camp--was “Runt” Morgan. But the wagon boss was too canny to write Morgan’s name down heading the list. In fact, he debated for a long time about writing Morgan’s name down at all. Finally he reached a decision. “If I’m boss here, as I’m supposed to be, Morgan will go, ’spite all heck--an’ if I ain’t boss here, then the sooner I find it out the better fer us all!” So the list of lucky drivers was posted: NEESON BUCKLEY DWYER FLYNN MORGAN What a howl went up--not only from the drivers who were not included, but from Neeson, Buckley, Dwyer, and Flynn, as well. The quartet objected to the fifth-man, Morgan. McCarthy was ready for the protest. “You fellers,” he told the aggrieved foursome, “go with me an’ Morgan, or you don’t go a-tall. I’ll choose four others! That’s that. Are you going, or are you ain’t?” “We’ll go,” they agreed. As for the howl from the camp in general, the wagon boss ignored it completely. With the five men he had picked he set to work polishing up mules, harness, and wagons. The rest of the crew, under Evans, the assistant wagon boss, went sadly back to the task of hauling ore. “That knife thrower will ruin ’em all,” said Jack Engels. “He’ll lose--an’ then he’ll knife the winner!” “Liable to be a killin’,” admitted Dick Galvin; “the runt is off his feed--seein’ th’ cookie ain’t rationing him accordin’ to Hoyle--an’ McCarthy pickin’ Morgan to go!” When Monday morning came, Morgan’s six were the first ready, and when the wagon train pulled out, early, his black, mealy nosed hitch was third in the caravan. McCarthy rode in spruced-up grandeur on the first wagon with Flynn. Every mule in the outfit had been carefully curried, the harness trappings glinted in the sun, and the great wagons rolled without a single, solitary squeak or squeal. In Monte Vista, Tuesday, the outfit rested and policed up again. When Wednesday and the race came, the Q B freighting company’s representatives in the rodeo were spick-and-span and ready. The big boss, Old Man Ashton, was on hand, of course. He inspected the turnout and approved--to the delight of McCarthy. Then Ashton gave the drivers a little talk.