In this instance the half-brother was tied up and put in training, and left unguarded, with the hope that Crabb would steal him out, and try his speed. Sure enough, he fell into the trap that How-lish-wam-po set for him. The real race-horse was miles away, under proper training.
The fame of this wonderful winner had spread far and wide, as did the news of the approaching contest.
When the morning agreed upon arrived, the roads leading to the valley of Umatilla gave full proof of the interest the people of the surrounding country had in this important affair.
They came from places several hundred miles distant, and from the settlements surrounding the Reservation.
The little towns furnished their quota, and the farmers excused themselves for going, hoping, as they told their wives at home, that they should meet some one with whom they had business. And through various devices nearly every man, and a part of the women, also, found excuse to be there.
I know how that was done; at least, I heard men tell how they managed.
People who never gambled with dollars, and would blush to own they were fast people, found their way to Umatilla.
The race-course which I have described was parallel with a low range of grassy hills, that rose by gentle slopes from the valley to an altitude of fifty to one hundred feet.
Long before the time for the race, carriages, buggies, wagons, and horses, might be seen standing on the hills, or driving over the green sward, while at the standing-point was assembled a great motley crowd, on foot and horseback.
The Indians were in their gala-day dress,—paints, feathers, long hair, red blankets; in fact, it was a dress-parade for white and red men too.