At noon Wally went through the mockery of a second blood-rare meal, with no cake to follow, and that afternoon Glass dragged him out under the hot sun, and made him sprint until he was ready to drop from exhaustion. His supper was wretched, and his fatigue so great that he fell asleep at Miss Blake's side during the evening. With the first hint of dawn he was up again, and Friday noon found him utterly hopeless, when, true to his prediction, the unexpected happened. In one moment he was raised from the blackest depths to the wildest transports of delight. It came in the shape of a telegram which Jean summoned him to the house to receive. He wondered listlessly as he opened the message, then started as if disbelieving his eyes; the marks of a wild emotion spread over his features, he burst into shrill, hysterical laughter. "Do tell us!" begged Roberta. "Covington--Covington is coming!" Wally felt his head whirl, and failed to note the chaperon's cry of surprise and see the paling of her cheeks. "_Covington is coming!_ Don't you understand?" he shouted. After all, the gods were not deaf! Good old Culver, who had never failed him, was coming as a deliverer. Even in the face of his extraordinary outburst the attention of the beholders was drawn to Lawrence Glass, who caused the porch to shake beneath his feet; who galloped to his employer, and, seizing him by the hands, capered about like a hippopotamus. "I told you 'Allah' was some guy," he wheezed. "When does Covington arrive?" Wally reread the message. "It says 'Noon Friday.' Why, that's to-day! He's here now!" "'Rah! 'Rah! 'Rah! Covington!" bellowed the trainer, and Mrs. Keap sank to a seat with a stifled moan. "Why all the 'Oh joy! Oh, rapture!' stuff?" questioned Berkeley Fresno. "As Socrates, the Hemlock Kid, would put it, 'Snatched from the shadow of the grave,'" quoth Glass, then paused abruptly. "Say, you don't think nothin' could happen to him on the way over from the depot?" "I'm so sorry we didn't know in time to meet him," lamented Miss Chapin. "And I could have run over to the railroad to bid him welcome," laughed Speed. "Twenty miles would do me good." Still Bill and Willie approached the gallery curiously, and in subdued tones inquired: "What's the matter, Mr. Speed?" "You ain't been summoned away?" Willie stared questioningly upward. "No, no! My running partner is on his way here, that's all." "Running pardner?" "Culver Covington." "Oh, we was afraid something had happened. You see, Gabby Gallagher has just blowed in from the Centipede to raise our bets." "We think it's a bluff, and we'd like to call him." "Do so, by all means!" cried the excited athlete. "Come on, let's all talk to him!" The entire party, with the exception of Mrs. Keap, trooped down from the porch and followed the foreman out toward the sheds, where, in the midst of a crowd of ranch-hands, a burly, loud- voiced Texan was discoursing.