But this set them _clar back_—no one dare _bite_. There not appearing any more chance for investment, the old man stripped off his hat, coat, vest, and boots, tied a red cotton bandanna around his head (as an old man only can tie it), then pulls off the cloths and saddle from Dick, and mounts _bare-back_, declaring himself ready. He mounted, and the word was given to “clear the track!” Then Old T. says: “Are yer ready?” “Yes.” “Go along then!” And over the score they go, H. a length ahead. But, oh! Jeminy! see Dick run! Before you could turn round twice, the ends of Old T.’s bandanna were pointing out the road for H., and at the outcome Dick was one, H. nowhere. Anybody that has seen a “quarter-horse” run by a “dunghill” knows how this was—no one else can appreciate it—the thing was out. Old T. really knew more than all of them, sure enough; but what was the secret, and how could those in the secret be so stuck? That’s the idea. The secret was, “the boys” stole Old Tuttle’s horse on Thursday night, and run him with H.’s horse, and _beat him easy_. And the way they were stuck was this: The old man supposing that they would steal his horse that night, and run him, had put Dick’s cloths on another horse of the same colour and marks, and about the same size, and put him in Dick’s stall, starting a shoe, so that if they run him they would lose it, and he should know they had taken the bait good. In the morning the shoe was gone. XVII. SPEECH ON THE OREGON QUESTION.[11] “Whoia! here I am, and intend, in a very few and expressive terms, to speak my sentiments. Mr. Speaker, I have come all the way from Oregon, to see, in behalf of my afflicted neighbours, who live a considerable distance apart, and I want to know, what in thunder you’re about here, in this comfortable location, while your fellow-countrymen, who are not allowed to emigrate north of the Columbia River, on account of a raging he-calf who is bla-ting on the other side; but, thunder and squashes! can this be borne? No! Can the free inhabitants, who have emigrated there with the full belief that protection was to be extended to them from the great republic, bear the yoke of British law and British tyranny? _No, Sir!_ we expect you to guard us from the sneers and insults of savages subject and give us aid, and to plant the standard of our country immutably on the 54–40, and, if anything, a leetle north. “Powder and gun-flints! must we give up what is clearly proved by many of our great men—and though not set down in Webster’s Spelling Book—to belong to us? will any man, who has pure American blood coursing through his veins, say let it go, ’cause we’re afraid to fight? No, Sir! no! it is not in the natur of _Liberty boys_ to allow any usurpation of our rights; let us be guided by Crockett’s motto: ‘_First, be sure your right, then go ahead_.’