He stood up--reeling unsteadily. He was deathly sick. Lightning flashes of pain throbbed through his head. Waves of blackness rolled before his eyes. Surges of numbness swept over his legs and arms. He tried hard to remember. There was something--what was it? Th'--th'--what th' hell?--_th' race_! That was it--th'--th'--th' sweepstakes! In an instant the thought was gone. It kept beating back: _Th' sweepstakes--th' race_--What time was it? Had it been run? He staggered to the door. It was locked! His head was bursting. If he could only get over the nausea. He felt his knees start to give way. No! No! My God, he wouldn't give up! He--oh, yes. _Th' race! Captain Jack--no--th'--th'--maverick--he had to ride_--He must get out! There was a--a--window--sometimes they had them--in the back of the stalls. Maybe the hay was over it. He climbed on the bales. Behind them he could see the opening. God, he was weak! With the sweat of terrible nausea bursting from every pore of his body he pulled the bales back. He fell over the bale on which he had been lying. One hand brushed his hat which had fallen from his head. Mechanically, with stiff fingers, he picked it up and jammed it on again. Then he climbed--crawled--over the hay and pitched forward through the opening, in a limp heap, on the ground outside. For a moment he lost consciousness completely again: _Th'--th' race--th' maverick! he mustn't forget_-- He fought his way to his feet and groped along back of the building--the stall--which way was it? Down there? No--the other way-- As Carolyn June tightened the rear cinch on the Gold Dust maverick and turned toward the door of the stall with: "Look out, boys--I'm coming out!" the Ramblin' Kid, clutching at the side of the building, reeled around the corner of the stall. The cowboys saw him. He himself saw only black shapes where their horses were. "Good God!" Skinny cried, "he's drunk!" Carolyn June heard Skinny's exclamation at the instant the Ramblin' Kid, catching at the half-open door, almost fell into the stall. His eyes stared with a dull, puzzled, unrecognizing vacancy first at Carolyn June and then the Gold Dust maverick. "_Who th' hell_--" he mumbled stiffly. "What--th'--oh, yes--there's th' filly--_th'--th'--race_. It must--be--time. Th' mare's saddled! That's--that's--funny! I can't remember. Th' race--th' sweepstakes--that's it--" Reaching over he jerked the reins from the hand of Carolyn June. "Who--who--get the--" came like the thick growl of a beast from his throat. "You--you--can't ride--she'll--_she'll--kill--_" Carolyn June shrank back as if she had been struck. She pressed her hands against her cheeks and stepped away with a look of horror and disgust as the Ramblin' Kid backed out of the stall with the Gold Dust maverick. Outside he fumbled grotesquely at the silky mane and climbed weakly into the saddle. Chuck and Bert started toward him.