Buck made no reply to this.  Such sentiment was a little too much for his primitive notions.  He went back to the men by the blacksmith shop.

It was not long, however, until the players left their game, to gather once more about the engine.  Lem Wheeler approached Young Matt with a serious air; “Look a here,” he said; “we all want t’ see you try that lift.”

“I ain’t got no time for foolin’,” replied the young man; “Dad’s just pushin’ to get done before dark.”

“Shucks!” retorted the other; “Hit won’t take a minute t’ try.  Jest catch hold an’ show us what you can do.”

“What are you all so keen about my liftin’ for, anyhow?” demanded the big fellow, suspiciously.  “I ain’t never set up as the strong man of this country.”

“Well, you see it’s this way; Buck done bet me his mule colt agin mine that you could lift her; an’ we want you to settle th’ bet!” exclaimed Lem.

Young Matthews shot a glance at the mountaineer, who grinned joyously.  “Yep,” said Buck, “that’s how it is; I’m a backin’ you.  Don’t want you t’ hurt yourself for me, but I sure do need that colt o’ Lem’s; hit’s a dead match for mine.”

The giant looked at his friend a moment in silence, then burst into a laugh of appreciation at Buck’s hint.  “Seein’ as how you’re backin’ me, Buck, I’ll have t’ get you that mule if I can.”

He shut off steam, and, as the engine came to a stop, stooped, and, with apparent ease, lifted the rear wheel a full four inches from the ground.

Loud exclamations of admiration came from the little group of men in the shed.  Lem turned with a long face, “Them colts ’ll make a fine team, Buck;” he said.

“You bet; come over an’ hep me break ’em,” replied Buck, with another grin of delight.

“Wait ’till Wash Gibbs hears ‘bout this, an’ he’ll sure be for breakin’ Young Matt,” put in another.

“Better get your fightin’ clothes on, Matt; Wash’ll never rest easy until you’ve done showed him.”  These and similar remarks revealed the general view of the situation.

While the men were discussing the matter, a thin, high-pitched voice from the edge of the crowd, broke in, “That there’s a good lift alright, but hit ain’t nothin’ t’ what I seed when I was t’ th’ circus in th’ city.”

Young Matt, who had started the engine again, turned quickly.  Ollie Stewart was sitting on a horse near by, and at his side, on the brown pony, was Miss Sammy Lane.  They had evidently ridden up just in time to witness the exhibition of the giant’s strength.

CHAPTER XI.

Ollie Stewart’s good-by.

Beside the splendidly developed young woman, Ollie Stewart appeared but a weakling.  His shoulders were too narrow and he stooped; his limbs were thin; his hair black and straight; and his eyes dull.

As Young Matt stepped forward, Ollie dismounted quickly, but the big fellow was first at the brown pony’s side.  Sammy’s eyes shone with admiration, and, as the strong man felt their light, he was not at all sorry that he had won the mule colt for Buck.