"See here, Bill, I'm sorry, but I won't stand for this foot- race." "Why not?" queried the foreman. "I just won't, that's all. You'll have to call it off." "I'm sorry, too." "You refuse?" The owner spoke ominously. "You bet he does!" Willie pushed himself forward. "This foot-race is ordained, and it comes off on time. I make bold to inquire if you're talkin' for our runner?" "Gentlemen, I can only say to you that for myself I want to run!" declared Speed. "Then you'll run." "I refuse to allow it," Chapin declared, and instantly there was an angry murmur; but before it could take definite form, Speed spoke up with equal decisiveness. "You can't refuse to let me run, Jack. There are reasons"--he searched Miss Blake's countenance--"why I must run--and win. And win I shall!" Turning, he stalked away into the darkness, and there followed him a shout of approbation from the ranchmen. Jack Chapin threw up his hands. "I've done my best." "The man's mad!" cried Covington, but Fresno was nearer the truth. "Nothing of the sort," he remarked, and struck a match; "he's bluffing!" As for Helen Blake, she shook her fair head and smiled into the night. "You are all wrong," she said. "_I_ know!" CHAPTER XVI The day of the race dawned bright and fair, without a cloud to mar its splendor. As the golden morning wore on, a gradual excitement became apparent among the cowboys, increasing as the hours passed, and as they prepared with joy to invade their rival's territory; nevertheless, the vigilant watch upon their champion did not relax. Theirs was an attitude of confidence tinged with caution. It was some time after midnight that Lawrence Glass had been the cause of a wild alarm that brought the denizens of the ranch out in night apparel. Jack Chapin, awakened by a cry for help, had found him in the hands of Carara and Cloudy, who had been doing night duty in accordance with Stover's orders. What with the trainer's loud complaints, the excited words of his captors, and the confusion resulting when the bunk-house emptied itself of men half clad, it had taken the ranch-owner some time to discover that Glass had been surprised in the act of escaping. It seemed that the sentries, seeing a figure skulking past the white adobe walls of the house, had called upon it to halt. There had been a dash for liberty, then a furious struggle before the intruder's identity became clear, and but for Chapin's prompt arrival upon the scene violence would inevitably have resulted. As it was, the owner had difficulty in restraining his men, who saw in this significant effort a menace to their hopes. "I tell you, I'm walkin' in my sleep," declared Glass for the twentieth time. "_Caramba!_ You try for get away," stormed the Mexican. "Pig!" "Not a bit like it! I've been a sonnambulust ever since I'm a baby." "Why didn't you answer when we called?" Cloudy demanded. "How can I talk when I'm sound asleep?" "If you couldn't hear us call, why did you run?"