“He’s crazy, or I’m a fool,” growled Buck in conclusion, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The ranch owner’s face wore an amused smile as he listened to the expressions of indignation that arose from the men at Buck’s recital. Some were for giving the stranger a warm reception when he arrived, while others insisted that he was probably a harmless lunatic. “Well, boys,” said the ranch owner, breaking in on their conversation, “we won’t worry about Buck’s _find_ until he gets here, and when he comes I want you men to refer him to me before you start any rough work. You may knock off training for the day.” This advice was taken as a command by the men and they silently made their way to the corral. Mason drove his racer to the shed where he intended to give the engine a general inspection. That night he had a long talk with Bud Anderson. He gave the latter a minute description of his encounter with the hunchback at the Ricker ranch. He also told him of the hunchback’s revelation that Ricker had known Mason’s father in the past and harbored a deadly hatred for his son. When Mason came to this part of his narrative, Bud whistled and looked keenly at him. “So, Ricker has got you mixed up in his crooked designs, too,” he said at last, a steely look coming into his gray eyes. “What do you make of it?” “I don’t know what to make of it,” Mason confessed. “I wrote home to father telling him of the incident, and expect an answer soon, which I hope will clear the mystery up. I didn’t know that my father had an enemy in the world.” “All big and successful men have,” Bud replied kindly, as he noticed a troubled look in the other’s face, “cheer up, Jack, and we’ll run this thing to earth together.” The two men shook hands in sincere friendship and talked far into the night. Mason told Bud of the rich trimmings of cowboy paraphernalia he had discovered at the Ricker ranch and his own impressions of the general air of mystery that surrounded the place. The news threw Bud into a deep study. Mason was more than ever impressed with the strong personality of the foreman and sheriff. The day set for the games broke bright and cheerful. A group of cowboys had gathered around the corral. They were laughing and jesting, and it seemed to Mason they were just like a lot of schoolboys, all good-natured and jolly. He had taken a position close to the corral with Josephine and her father where they were waiting for the first event of the day to be pulled off. It was to be a horse race between Red Sullivan and Scotty. It promised be an exciting contest, and they were exchanging good-natured raillery while they sat in their saddles waiting for the signal to start. Bud Anderson was master of ceremonies and raising his gun in the air, sang out: “Ready! Go!” The words and the report blended together and the racers were off.