I had made it a rule, during our brief acquaintance, never to argue matters with my bunkie, well knowing that his years and experience in the ways of the world entitled his advice to my earnest consideration.  So I kept silent, though secretly wishing he had not taken the trouble to throw cold water on my hopes, for I had built several air castles with the money which seemed within my grasp.  We had been out then over four months, and I, like many of the other boys, was getting ragged, and with Ogalalla within a week’s drive, a town which it took money to see properly, I thought it a burning shame to let this opportunity pass.  When I awoke the next morning the camp was astir, and my first look was in the direction of the harness mare, grazing peacefully on the picket rope where she had been tethered the night before.

Breakfast over, our venerable visitor harnessed in his team, preparatory to starting.  Stallings had made it a point to return to the herd for a parting word.

“Well, if you must go on ahead,” said Joe to the old man, as the latter was ready to depart, “remember that you can get action on your money, if you still think that your bay mare can outrun that brown cow horse which I pointed out to you yesterday.  You needn’t let your poverty interfere, for we’ll run you to suit your purse, light or heavy.  The herd will reach the river by the middle of the afternoon, or a little later, and you be sure and stay overnight there,—­stay with us if you want to,—­and we’ll make up a little race for any sum you say, from marbles and chalk to a hundred dollars.  I may be as badly deceived in your mare as I think you are in my horse; but if you’re a Tennesseean, here’s your chance.”

But beyond giving Stallings his word that he would see him again during the afternoon or evening, the old man would make no definite proposition, and drove away.  There was a difference of opinion amongst the outfit, some asserting that we would never see him again, while the larger portion of us were at least hopeful that we would.  After our guest was well out of sight, and before the wagon started, Stallings corralled the remuda a second time, and taking out Flood’s brown and Officer’s chestnut, tried the two horses for a short dash of about a hundred yards.  The trial confirmed the general opinion of the outfit, for the brown outran the chestnut over four lengths, starting half a neck in the rear.  A general canvass of the outfit was taken, and to my surprise there was over three hundred dollars amongst us.  I had over forty dollars, but I only promised to loan mine if it was needed, while Priest refused flat-footed either to lend or bet his.  I wanted to bet, and it would grieve me to the quick if there was any chance and I didn’t take it—­but I was young then.