"Excuse me," interrupted Jack. "I know I ought not to have ridden your horse, but I wanted your sister to have the cup, and if you'll accept my apology—"
It was now Van Hoosen's turn to interrupt Jack.
"Apology! my dear fellow," he said. "I don't know what you mean."
"You didn't treat me well the other day, and I know it was wrong to ride your horse."
"You have done me the greatest service one man could do another," replied Van Hoosen. "When I sprained my ankle, I hurt it badly, and I am told I shall not get out of the house for a month at least. At present I am suffering terrible torture. If you had not ridden my horse, I should have been a ruined man, for I don't mind telling you I had backed my mount heavily, and I stood to lose more than I can afford. It would have broken my heart to go to my mother and ask her to pay my debts of honor. You have saved me."
Jack's face lighted up with a faint smile.
It was the brother of the girl he loved who was talking to him.
"I'm awfully glad," he said. "It pleases me to help a man out of a bad place. If your man will give me my coat, I'll go home now, and send you the colors in the morning. I've got friends here—drove my drag down, you know, and I fear I have neglected them."
"Sit down a moment," replied Van Hoosen. "You're a fine fellow, Harkaway, and I'm sorry for what I said yesterday."
"Don't mention it, my dear fellow. I've forgotten it."