Willie thrust his head in through the open window, inquiring, "Well, how's the breakfast goin'?" and withdrew, humming a favorite song: "'Sam Bass was born in Indiany; It was his natif home. At the early age of seventeen Young Sam commenced to roam.'" "Fine voice!" said Lawrence, with a shudder. It was perhaps a half-hour later that Helen Blake came tripping into the gymnasium, radiant, sparkling, her crisp white dress touched here and there with blue that matched her eyes, in her hands a sunshade, a novel, and a mysterious little bundle. "We were so sorry to lose you at breakfast," she began. Wally led her to the cosey-corner, and seated himself beside her. "I suppose it is a part of this horrid training. I would never have mentioned that foot-race if I had dreamed it would be like this." Here at least was a soul that sympathized. "The only hardship is not to see you," he declared softly. Miss Blake dropped her eyes. "I thought you might like to go walking; it's a gorgeous morning. You see, I've brought a book to read to you while you rest--you must be tired after your run." "I am, and I will. This is awfully good of you, Miss Blake." Speed rose, overwhelmed with joy, but the look of Glass was not to be passed by. "I-I'm afraid it's impossible, however." The blue eyes flew open in astonishment. "Why?" the girl questioned. "They won't let me. I--I'm supposed to keep to myself." "They? Who?" "Glass." Miss Blake turned indignantly upon Larry. "Do you mean to say Mr. Speed can't go walking with me?" "I never said nothing of the sort," declared the trainer. "He can go if he wants to." "Just the same, I--oughtn't to do it. There is a strict routine-- " A lift of the brows and a courteous smile proclaimed Miss Blake's perfect indifference to the subject, just as Willie sauntered past the open window and spoke to Glass beneath his breath: "Git her out!" "I'm so sorry. May I show you a surprise I brought for you?" She unwrapped her parcel, and proudly displayed a pallid, anaemic cake garlanded with wild flowers. Speed was honestly overcome. "For me?" "For you. It isn't even cold yet, see! I made it before breakfast, and it looks even better than the one I baked at school!" "That's what I call fine," declared the youth. "By Jove! and I'm so fond of cake!" "Have a care!" breathed Larry, rising nervously, but Speed paid no attention. "Break it with your own hands, please. Besides, it's too hot to cut." Miss Blake broke it with her own hands, during which operation the brown face of the man outside reappeared in the window. At sight of the cake he spoke sharply, and Lawrence lumbered swiftly across the floor and laid a heavy hand upon the cake. "Mr. Speed!" he cried warningly. "Here, take your foot off my angel-food!" fiercely ordered the youth. But the other was like adamant. "Bo, you are about to contest for the honor of this ranch! That cake will make a bum of you!"