Accompanied by Chuck, the Ramblin' Kid went directly to the entry offices of the Rodeo, which were roughly boxed-up compartments under the rear of the grandstand.
A group of "hot-dog" vendors and "concession spielers" looked curiously at the two as they left Captain Jack and Silver Tip, with bridle reins dropped over their heads, standing in front of the office and stepped inside.
Lafe Dorsey and Flip Williams were at the clerk's desk.
The Vermejo cattleman had just registered Thunderbolt, with Flip as rider, for the big race.
They looked around as the Ramblin' Kid and Chuck came in.
"Well, is the Quarter Circle KT getting up sand enough to go against old Thunderbolt again?" Dorsey asked with a curl of his lip and an ugly sneer.
"Oh, I reckon we've got a little nerve left," Chuck answered with mock humility, "not much, but a little, maybe. I was going to put Silver Tip in the sweepstakes," he went on, "but I guess I won't. Th' Ramblin' Kid's got an entry and it looks like a darned shame for one outfit to want to hog it all and grab first and second money both, so I'll stay out this time."
"You talk pretty loud," Dorsey snarled, catching instantly, as Chuck intended he should, the covert slur at the black Y-Bar stallion. "Maybe your money won't make so damned much noise!"
"Here's a couple hundred," Chuck said, pulling a roll of bills from his shirt pocket. "I'll invest that much on my judgment that Thunderbolt ain't as good as you think he is."
"I'll take it!" Dorsey snapped, jerking a wad of money from his own pocket and counting out the amount which he handed to the clerk as stake-holder. "And here's another hundred—or a thousand if you want it!"