"We owe a great deal to you, Kenneth," said Mrs. Clayton, her eyes filling with tears.
"Oh, that was only a trifle, Mrs. Clayton," he said, carelessly.
"Come dine with us to-night, Kenneth, won't you?" asked his friend.
After thanking her, he mounted his horse, lifted his cap, and went on his way to headquarters.
And Esther Bright! What was in her heart? We shall see.
CHAPTER XVII
THE DAY OF THE GREAT RACE
It was pay-day in Gila. Miners from far and near were in camp. Cow-punchers had come from the range; cowlasses, also, were to be seen here and there, chaffing with men they knew. The one street had suddenly taken on human interest. Representatives of different nations were to be seen in all directions, some going to, and some coming from the saloons. Groups of men and women gathered to gossip. Comments on affairs of the community, and especially on the approaching race, were freely interlarded with profanity. Along the street, strolled Lord Kelwin, puffing away at a cigar. Apparently he was a good "mixer."
"So you've entered your mare fur the race," said a cow-puncher, slapping him familiarly on the back. "What in blank do you expect her to do? She ain't fit fur nothin' but takin' gals hossback ridin', eh?" And he laughed uproariously at his attempt at wit. "Better cut out that part of the race. That belongs to another brand o' cattle. Come! Have a drink." Saying which, they entered the saloon where Pete Tompkins presided.