The Greek was furious.

Wednesday night he called “Gyp” Streetor, a carnival tout, who had one time been a jockey but was ruled off the track for crooked work and was now picking up “easies” at the Eagle Butte Rodeo, into a side room of the Amusement Parlor.

For half an hour the two talked earnestly and furtively.

“Nothin’ doin’—­absolutely nothin’!” the tout finally said in reply to some suggestion of Sabota’s.  “That Captain Jack horse would murder any man but th’ Ramblin’ Kid that tried to get in the stall—­”

“Well, by hell!” the Greek exclaimed, clenching his hairy fists, while his mouth twitched with passion, “that filly’s got to be kept out of the sweepstakes someway or other—­”

“You can’t get to her, I tell you,” Gyp said sullenly, then with a look of cunning suddenly coming into his eyes:  “They say she’s a one-man brute like the stallion—­nobody can ride her but th’ Ramblin’ Kid,” significantly looking at Sabota.  “If you could—­but he don’t drink!”

The Greek laughed.

“There are other ways!” he said.  “He eats, don’t he?  Listen:  To-morrow and Friday you take that ‘sandwich and coffee’ run at the stables—­” referring to the concession to peddle lunch stuff among the horsemen who seldom left their charges, a concession which Sabota, with other privileges, had purchased the right to operate.  “Th’ Ramblin’ Kid eats off the trays—­it will be your business to see that he ain’t feeling well when the sweepstakes is called!  I’ll get the ‘pills’ for you to-night—­”

“No killin’, Sabota!” Gyp warned.

“Just enough to put him out for an hour or two!” the Greek answered.

Wednesday night the Ramblin’ Kid slept in the stall with the Gold Dust maverick and Captain Jack.  Thursday he remained close to the horses.  Thursday night he again slept on a pile of hay in one corner of the box-compartment.  Under no circumstances would he leave the animals.  Occasionally Parker or some of the Quarter Circle KT cowboys came down to the stables.

Each night Old Heck and Skinny, with Carolyn June and Ophelia, after the evening program was concluded, drove out to the ranch in the Clagstone “Six,” returning early the following day.

Friday forenoon Old Heck drove the car down to the stall in which Captain Jack and the Gold Dust maverick were confined.  The two horses were standing, side by side, with their heads out of the door, the upper half of which was swung back.  The Ramblin’ Kid leaned against the door at the side of the horses.

To Carolyn June he looked tired and worn.

“How’s the filly?” Old Heck asked, as the outlaw mare sprang back away from the door when the car stopped.

“She’s all right.”

“Hadn’t you ought to exercise her?” Skinny asked.

“She don’t need it,” the Ramblin’ Kid replied with a note of weariness in his voice.  “She’ll get enough exercise this afternoon!”