“Straight goods,” answered Dick; “if you don’t believe it, ask Melton.”

“Whoop-ee!” yelled Sandy, throwing his sombrero high in the air and catching it deftly as it descended.  “No wonder he seemed so confident when he offered to run fer us.  At thet time I kind a’ thought he was jest stringin’ us along.”

“You’ll find that when Bert says a thing he generally means it,” remarked Dick, “but what is it all about, anyway?  What was it that he offered to run in?”

Sandy then proceeded to explain all that had occurred that morning, and when he had finished both Tom and Dick gave a long whistle.

“So that’s how the land lies, is it?” exclaimed Dick; “the old sinner’s never satisfied unless he’s winning something or other, is he?”

“You said something that time,” acquiesced Tom, a note of pride in his voice; “if excitement won’t come to him, he goes looking for it.  That’s his style, every time.”

The two cowboys did not stop to hear any more, but hurried off excitedly to take the news to their companions.  They burst into the bunkhouse, where the men had already sat down to supper.

“Boys, we’re all a bunch o’ locoed Piutes,” yelled Sandy.  “Do you know who this boy Wilson is, eh?  He’s the feller that won the Marathon fer Uncle Sam at the Olympic games, an’ we never knew it.  Somebody kindly make the remarks fer me thet ’re approp’rite on sech an occasion.”

For a few seconds, astonished exclamations of a very forceful character filled the air, but soon the cowboys quieted down somewhat, and began to discuss the surprising news in every detail.  Everybody was jubilant, and already they could picture the chagrin of the townspeople when their favorite was beaten.

“But we don’t want to be too certain of winnin’, at that,” cautioned Bud; “arter all, that Helena runner is a professional, an’ Wilson is only an amateur, no matter how good he may be.  A feller thet makes a livin’ out of a thing is likely to do it better than the sport thet does it fer fun, leastwise, thet’s the way I figger it out.”

“Thet’s all right,” spoke up Reddy, “but ef yuh can remember that far back, you’ll rec-lect that his pals told us he held a world’s record fer five miles.  Waal, now, they must ‘a’ been lots o’ professionals runnin’ thet distance, and in spite of everythin’ they never did no better’n thet.  What’ve yuh got to say t’ that, eh?”

Thus the discussion raged, and the cowboys stayed up much later than usual that night arguing every phase of the forthcoming race pro and con.  As is usually the case in such discussions, they reached no decision, beyond unanimously agreeing that the best man would win, a proposition that few people would care to argue.

In the meantime the three comrades had met at Mr. Melton’s hospitable board, and Dick and Tom recounted with great mirth the surprise of the cowboys on hearing of Bert’s athletic prowess.