“Here’s the pony that can beat the cow-kid’s mare,” he said. “You’re just in time to sa—to save the day, little gal.”
“What do you mean?” asked Alta.
“I mean that—that Silver Bill’s got beat, and you’ve got to save the rep—rep-u-tashun of the Morgan ranch; you got to do it.”
“How?”
“By racin’ Eagle agin’ that Brown mouse over thar. Come, now, show ’em your spunk, little one—show ’em your spunk.”
“What, ride in a race?”
“Sure!”
“Well, I never did such a thing; but if the Morgan name is at stake, I’m ready.”
A lusty cheer greeted the girl’s decision. The boys began to lay their wagers. Hats, spurs, chaps, bridles, shirts, kerchiefs, saddles and even horses were put at stake, while Alta, laughing nervously, made ready for the race. Fred also was excited. To ride any race is enough to make one a little nervous, but to be matched against a dashing girl, and a stranger at that, was a thrilling experience.
“I’m going to win the race,” said Alta, throwing a smile at him.