But Tom and Dick were not deceived.  “The old reprobate’s only stalling,” yelled Dick into Tom’s ear, at the same time pounding him frantically on the back.  “He isn’t going his limit, by a whole lot.  Watch him, now, just watch——­” but his words were drowned in the shrill cowboy yell that split the air.  “Yi, yi, yi!” they shouted, half crazy with excitement.  For Bert, their champion, suddenly seemed to be galvanized into furious action.  He leaped ahead, seeming to dart through the air as though equipped with wings.  Johnson gave a startled glance over his shoulder, and then exerted himself to the utmost.  But he might as well have stood still as far as any good it did him was concerned.  Bert was resolved to make a decisive finish, and show these doubting Westerners what a son of the East could do.  Over the last hundred yards of the course he exerted every ounce of strength in him, and the result was as decisive as even Dick and Tom could desire.  Amid a tremendous pandemonium he dashed down the stretch like a thunderbolt, and breasted the tape sixty feet in advance of his laboring rival.

Words fail to describe the uproar that then broke loose.  A yelling mob of cowboys swept down onto the field, and, surrounding Bert, showered praise and congratulations.  Swearing joyfully, Reddy, Chip, Bud and several of the others of the cross diamond outfit elbowed their way through the crowd at one point, while Mr. Melton, Dick and Tom edged through at another.

“All right, boys,” laughed Mr. Melton, “give him a chance to get his breath back, though, before you shake his hands off altogether.  Let’s work a path to the dressing room for him.”

This was no sooner said than done.  Dick and Tom, assisted by Reddy and the others, fought a path through the excited crowd, and at last got Bert into the dressing room under the grandstand.

“Waal, m’ lad, yuh certainly put it all over that maverick,” exulted Reddy; “one time there, though, we figgered he had you beaten to a stand-still.  It was sure a treat the way yuh breezed past him at the finish, it sure was.”

“I was worried some myself,” admitted Mr. Melton, “but I suppose I ought to have known better.”

Meanwhile Bert had taken a shower, and started to dress.  In a few minutes he was ready to leave the dressing room, and they all started out.  Just as Bert was going through the door Johnson, who had had a hard time getting through the crowd, entered.  As they passed Bert said, “Maybe this will teach you to stick to straight racing, Summers.  Take my advice and cut out the crooked stuff.  It doesn’t pay in the end.”

The defeated athlete started, and muttered an oath.  “I know who you are now,” he exclaimed.  “I recognized you first thing, but couldn’t place you.  It’s just my luck,” he continued bitterly.  “If I’d had any idea who I was going to run against I’d have backed out.  But I’ll get even with you some day for queering my game, see if I don’t.”