Miss Blake uttered a little scream, and Speed regarded the lanky speaker with new interest. "It's a Waltham movement, solid gold case, eighteen jewels, and engraved with my name." "No wonder you prize it," said Wally. "I bet my saddle," informed Carara, in his slow, soft dialect. "Stamp' leather wit' silver filagree. It is more dear to me than --well--I love it ver' much, Senor!" "Seems like Willie has made the extreme sacrifice," Stover followed up. "While all our boys has gone the limit, Willie has topped 'em all: he's bet his gun." "Indeed! Is it a good weapon?" "It's been good to me," said the little man, dryly. "I took it off the quivering remains of a Sheriff in Dodge City, up to that time the best hip shot in Kansas." Speed felt a cold chill steal up his spine, while Miss Blake went pale and laid a trembling hand upon his arm. "You see it ain't intrinsic value so much as association and sentiment that leads to this interview," Stover continued. "It ain't no joke--we don't joke with the Centipede--and we've relied on you. The Mex here would do murder for that saddle," Carara nodded, and breathed something in his own tongue. "I have parted with my honor, and Willie is gamblin' just as high." "But I notice Mr.--Willie still has his revolver." "Sure I got it!" Willie laughed, abruptly. "And I don't give it up till we lose, neither. That's the understandin'." His voice was surprisingly harsh for one so high-pitched. He looked more like a professor than ever. "Willie has reasons for his caution which we respect," explained the spokesman. J. Wallingford Speed, face to face with these serious-minded gentlemen, began to reflect that this foot-race was not a thing to be taken too lightly. "I can't understand," he declared, with a touch of irritation, "why you should risk such priceless things upon a friendly encounter." "_Friendly!_" cried Willie and Stover in a tone that made their listeners gasp. "The Centipede and the Flying Heart is just as friendly as a pair of wild boars." "You see, it's a good thing we wised you up," added the latter. Carara muttered fiercely: "Senor, I works five year' for that saddle. I am a good gambler, _si, si!_ but I keel somebody biffore I lose it to the Centipede." "And is that Echo Phonograph worth all this?" inquired Helen. "We won that phonograph at risk of life and limb," said Willie, doggedly, "from the Centipede-" "--and twenty other outfits, Senor." "It's a trophy," declared the foreman, "and so long as it ain't where it belongs, the Flying Heart is in disgrace." "Even the 'Leven X treats us scornful!" cried the smallest of the trio angrily. "We're a joke to the whole State." "I know just how these gentlemen must feel," declared Miss Blake, tactfully, at which Stover bowed with grateful awkwardness. "And it's really a wonderful instrument," said he. "I don't reckon there's another one like it in the world, leastways in these parts. You'd ought to hear it--clear as a bell--"