Grandpa admired Smoky, and looked him over carefully, with those caressing smoothings of mane and forelock which betray the lover of good horseflesh. “I reckon he's purty fast,” he said, peering shrewdly into Bud's face. “The boys has been talking about pulling off some horse races here next Sunday--we got a good, straight, hard-packed creek-bed up here a piece that has been cleaned of rocks fer a mile track, and they're goin' to run a horse er two. Most generally they do, on Sunday, if work's slack. You might git in on it, if you're around in these parts.” He pushed his back straight with his palms, turned his head sidewise and squinted at Smoky through half-closed lids while he fumbled for cigarette material. “I dunno but what I might be willin' to put up a few dollars on that horse myself,” he observed, “if you say he kin run. You wouldn't go an' lie to an old feller like me, would yuh, son?” Bud offered him the cigarette he had just rolled. “No, I won't lie to you, dad,” he grinned. “You know horses too well.” “Well, but kin he run? I want yore word on it.” “Well-yes, he's always been able to turn a cow,” Bud admitted cautiously. “Ever run him fer money?” The old man began teetering from his toes to his heels, and to hitch his shoulders forward and back. “Well, no, not for money. I've run him once or twice for fun, just trying to beat some of the boys to camp, maybe.” “Sho! That's no way to do! No way at all!” The old man spat angrily into the dust of the corral. Then he thought of something. “Did yuh BEAT 'em?” he demanded sharply. “Why, sure, I beat them!” Bud looked at him surprised, seemed about to say more, and let the statement stand unqualified. Grandpa stared at him for a minute, his blue eyes blinking with some secret excitement. “Young feller,” he began abruptly, “lemme tell yuh something. Yuh never want to do a thing like that agin. If you got a horse that can outrun the other feller's horse, figure to make him bring yuh in something--if it ain't no more'n a quarter! Make him BRING yuh a little something. That's the way to do with everything yuh turn a hand to; make it bring yuh in something! It ain't what goes out that'll do yuh any good--it's what comes in. You mind that. If you let a horse run agin' another feller's horse, bet on him to come in ahead--and then,” he cried fiercely, pounding one fist into the other palm, “by Christmas, make 'im come in ahead!” His voice cracked and went flat with emotion. He stopped suddenly and let his arms fall slack, his shoulders sag forward. He waggled his head and muttered into his beard, and glanced at Bud with a crafty look.