“I’ll see him—­and raise him till he squeals!” Dorsey sneered.

The Ramblin’ Kid ignored the tilt between Dorsey and Chuck and leaned indifferently against the counter waiting for the clerk to fill out the entry blank.

“Event?” the clerk questioned.

“Two-mile run,” was the quiet answer.

“Rider—­and horse?” glancing up.

Dorsey and Flip paused and turned their heads to catch the names the Ramblin’ Kid gave.

“I’m the rider, I reckon,” the Ramblin’ Kid replied, “I guess you know who I am.  Th’ name of th’ horse?  Well, now ain’t that funny?” he said with a little laugh, “I never have bothered to name that critter yet!  But—­oh, hell, what’s the difference?  We’ll just call her ‘Ophelia’ for th’ time bein’—­in honor of a lady-widow that’s visitin’ out at th’ ranch!”

“The Quarter Circle KT’s getting to be quite a female institution, ain’t it?” Dorsey said contemptuously.  “I suppose this wonder horse of yours is one of the ranch fillies and regular lightning!”

For a second the Ramblin’ Kid’s eyes narrowed, then he replied coldly to the last half of Dorsey’s sentence: 

“Well, th’ filly’s been runnin’ in that neighborhood an’”—­with a laugh that had in it just the hint of a sneer—­“she’s pretty fair—­good enough, I figure, to beat hell out of old Thunderbolt!”

“Are you backing that with money?” Dorsey and Flip spoke together.

“No,” the Ramblin’ Kid answered slowly, “money ain’t no object with me in a horse-race.  I don’t run ’em for that purpose.  Anyhow, poker is my favorite method of gamblin’!”

Dorsey and Flip whirled angrily out of the office and walked rapidly toward the stables where they had left their horses.

After reserving a box stall, which was to be occupied by Captain Jack and the Gold Dust maverick, the Ramblin’ Kid and Chuck left the entry office and mounting their bronchos rode toward the section of the grounds, over by the stables, where the parade was already forming.

As they passed through the entrance to the track and the inside field which lay beyond Chuck and the Ramblin’ Kid rode within a few feet of the Clagstone “Six,” which was parked near the east end of the grandstand.  Old Heck and Ophelia were in the front seat of the car watching the riders assemble for the parade.  Carolyn June was standing on the running-board waiting for Skinny to come with Old Pie Face and Red John, the boys having left the horses at the stables.

Carolyn June looked up with a bright smile at Chuck.  As her eyes met the Ramblin’ Kid’s there was a question in them.  She was not sure yet that she had forgiven him for the brutal rebuff the night of the dance.  If there was any feeling in his heart, either of resentment or otherwise, toward the girl the Ramblin’ Kid hid it.  The look he gave her was one of unfathomable humility and indifference.