"Superb actor," thought Fitzrapp, and he began to cast about for some lead that would break down the reserve of this competent individual whom he had come to hate so bitterly.
The major nodded approvingly. "You've got the right idea, neighbor," he observed to Fitzrapp's increased discomfiture. "The day of range breeding is passing with the advancing wave of wheat and mixed farming. It won't be long until the oldest of us are digging post holes and stringing barb-wire. As I believe I observed once before, that's a fine animal you ride."
The sergeant's face beamed at this tribute to Silver. "He is that! Think I'll have to take him up to Strathconna's industrial exposition next June and show him off. His record shows that he's never been beaten."
Fitzrapp thought he saw a chance. "Then perhaps there was something serious behind that offer to race my horse that you made over at Gallegher's the other day. Have you any money to say that the silver beast can't be made to take the dust?"
The major said nothing, merely looking his disapproval of this boast and counter-boast.
Into Childress's face came a shrewd look as he answered. "I staked my saddle on Silver a few years ago, and I'm still riding the same leather. Suppose I could scrape up a thousand to say that he hasn't forgotten how to run. You have a horse in mind, Fitzrapp?"
"My stallion, Canada, will make yours look like a selling plater," was the eager declaration. "I'll back him for any amount, any distance, any time and any place."
Fitzrapp personally owned the horse of which he spoke, a thoroughbred black which had shown speed and was now at the Rafter A. He had no idea that Childress actually would come to terms and arrange a race, but he hoped to discredit the stranger in the eyes of the major, who had no use for a man who boasted of his horse and then was unwilling to back him.
"Fair enough," murmured the sergeant. "Will you ride him yourself?"
"Gladly," declared the ranch manager, thinking that the other was seeking a loophole of escape.