“Oh, say, I thought you were going to say twenty,” laughed Flecker.
Some rowdy had crowded around the old cart and attempted to unscrew the axle tap. But some one reached over the head of the crowd and gripped him where his shoulder and arm met, and pulled him forward and twirled him around like a top.
It was enough. It was ten minutes before he could lift up his arm at all; it felt dead.
“Don't hurt nobody, Jack,” whispered the old man, “be keerful.”
The crowd were for the old man. They still shouted—“Fair play, fair play—let him start,” and they came thronging and crowding on the track.
“Clear the track,” cried the starting-judge to a deputy sheriff in charge—“I'll let him start.”
This set the crowd in a roar.
“Square man,” they yelled—“Square man!”
Travis bit his lips and swore.
“Why, damn him,” he said, “we'll lose him the first heat. I'll shut him out myself.”