"It's too late. Don't you understand? The bets are made, and its 'pay or play.' The cowboys have mortgaged their souls on me." "He was makin' a play for that little doll--" "Don't you call Miss Blake a doll, Larry! I won't stand for it!" "Well, 'skirt,' then." "Why don't you cut it? There's a train East at midnight." "And leave Helen--like that? Her faith in me has weakened already; she'd hate me if I did that. No! I've got to face it out!" "They'll be singin' hymns for both of us," predicted the fat man. "I don't care. They can boil me in oil--I won't let her think I'm a coward." "Larry doesn't have to stay." "Of course not. He can escape." "Not a chance," said the trainer. "They watch me closer 'n they do him." Covington considered for a moment. "It certainly looks bad, but perhaps the other fellow can't run either. Who is he?" "A cook named Skinner." "Happy name! Well, two-thirds of a sprint is in the start. How does Wally get in motion, Lawrence?" "Like a sacred ox." Glass could not conceal his contempt. "I'll give him some pointers; it will all help." But Speed was nervous and awkward--so awkward, in fact, that the coach finally gave it up as a bad job, saying: "It's no use, Wally, you've got fool feet." "I have, eh? Well, I didn't break them getting out of jail." "The less said about that jail the better. I'm in trouble myself." Speed might have explained that his chum's dilemma was by no means so serious as he imagined, had not watchman Willie thrust his head through the open window at that moment with the remark: "Time to get busy!" "We'll be right with you!" Glass seized his protege by the arm and bore him away, muttering: "Stick it out, brother, we're nearin' the end!" Again Speed donned his running-suit and took to the road for his farewell practise. Again Willie followed at a distance on horseback, watching the hills warily. But all hope had fled from the Yale man now, and he returned to his training-quarters disheartened, resigned. He was not resigned, however, to the visit he received later from Miss Helen Blake. That young lady rushed in upon him like a miniature cyclone, sweeping him off his feet by the fury of her denunciation, allowing him no opportunity to speak, until, with a half-sob, she demanded: "Why--why did you deceive me?" "I love you!" Wally said, as if no further explanation were necessary. "That explains nothing. You made sport of me! You couldn't love me and do that!" "Helen!" "I thought you were so fine, so strong, but you lied--yes, that is what you did! You fibbed to me the first day I met you, and you've been fibbing ever since. I could never, never care for a man who would do that." "Who has told you these things?" "Roberta, for one. She opened my eyes to your--baseness." "Well, Roberta has a grudge against my sex. She's engaged to all the men she hasn't already married. Marriage is a habit with her. It has made her suspicious--" "But you did deceive me, didn't you?"