"He is the intercollegiate champion," declared that young lady, with proud dignity. "And do you reckon he'd run for us and the Echo Phonograph of New York and Paris, if we framed a race? It's an honor!" But Miss Chapin suddenly recalled her brother's caution of the day before, and hesitated. "I--I don't think he would. You see, he is an amateur--he might be out of training--" "The idea!" exclaimed Miss Blake, indignantly. "If Culver won't run, I know who will!" She closed her lips firmly, and turned to the foreman. "You tell your friends that we'll see you get your trophy back." "Helen, I--" "I mean it!" declared Miss Blake, with spirit. Stover bowed loosely. "Thank you, miss. The very thought of it will cheer up the gang. Life 'round here is blacker 'n a spade flush. I think I'll tell Willie." He shambled rapidly off around the house. "Helen dear, I don't want Culver to get mixed up in this affair," explained Miss Chapin, as soon as they were alone. "It's all utterly foolish. Jack doesn't want him to, either." "Very well. If Culver doesn't feel that he can beat that cook running, I know who will try. Mr. Speed will do anything I ask. It's a shame the way those men have been treated." "But Mr. Speed isn't a sprinter." "Indeed!" Miss Blake bridled. "Perhaps Culver Covington isn't the only athlete in Yale College. I happen to know what I'm talking about. Naturally the two boys have never competed against each other, because they are friends--Mr. Speed isn't the sort to race his room-mate. Oh! he wouldn't tell me he could run if it were not true." "I don't think he will consent when he learns the truth." "I assure you," said Miss Blake, sweetly, "he will be delighted." CHAPTER III It was still early in the afternoon when Jack Chapin and the youthful chaperon found the other young people together on the gallery. "Here's a telegram from Speed," began Jack. "It's terribly funny," said Mrs. Keap. "That Mexican brought it to us down at the spring-house." Miss Blake lost her bored expression, and sat up in the hammock. "'Mr. Jack Chapin,'" read the owner of the Flying Heart Ranch. "'Dear Jack: I couldn't wait for Covington, so meet with brass-band and fireworks this afternoon. Have flowers in bloom in the little park beside the depot, and see that the daisies nod to me.--J. Wallingford Speed.'" "Park, eh?" said Fresno, dryly. "Telegraph office, water-tank, and a cattle-chute. Where does this fellow think he is?" "Here is a postscript," added Chapin. "'I have a valet who does not seem to enjoy the trip. Divide a kiss among the girls.'" "Well, well! He's stingy with his kisses," observed Berkeley. "Who is this humorous party?" "He was a Freshman at Yale the year I graduated," explained Jack. "Too bad he never got out of that class." It was evident that Mr. Speed's levity made no impression upon the Glee Club tenor. "He hates to talk about himself, doesn't he?" "I think he is very clever," said Miss Blake, warmly.