race. As a rule ranchmen and cowboys are not noted for their running
abilities, generally being more at home upon the back of a horse than
upon their own feet. But among the neighboring ranches there were several
fair runners, and among the townspeople there were others. The last year
or two a hot rivalry had existed between the ranchmen and "townies" over
the outcome of the running race, for in this event everybody, no matter
what his daily occupation, could be interested.

The last year one of the men from the Bar X Ranch had taken the prize
money, and the ranchers had all been jubilant. They imagined they had
a fair chance to win this year's event with the same runner, and Mr.
Melton's men thought so too. But one day late in June Chip returned from
a trip to town with clouded brow.

"What do yuh think them low-down Piutes that calls themselves citizens of
Helena has been an' done now?"

"What's bitin' yuh, Chip?" asked Sandy. "Did somebody get your wad, or
what?"

"No, nothin' like that," answered Chip. "I'll tell it to you jest the way
one o' the boys handed it to me. He says t' me, 'Waal, Chip, I reckon
you boys on the ranches hereabouts won't pick off the prize money this
year in the footrace, will yuh?'

"'Oh, I don't know,' I answers him. 'Yuh never kin tell what's going to
happen, but we-all have a sneakin' idea that our man is jest goin' to
run away from any shorthorn you guys kin put up.'

"'Oh, is that so?' he jeers, real triumphant-like, 'well, I got a little