"Here's your medals," said he.
"Good! I'll wear them."
"Nix! You can't do that. Those gals will get wise." He selected one, and read on the reverse side. "Clerk of the course"; another was engraved "Starter." All were official badges of some sort or other. "You always were strong on the 'Reception Committee' stuff. There's six of them," said he.
Speed pointed to the bureau. "Try a nail-file. See if you can't scratch off the lettering. How's this?" He read what he had written for the wire. "'Culver Covington, and so forth. Come quick. First train. Native Son making love to Jean.—Wally.' Ten words, and it tells the whole story. I can hardly explain why I want him, can I? He expects to stop off in Omaha for a day or two, but he'll be under way in an hour after he gets this. I hate to spoil his little visit, but he can take that in on his way home. Now I'll ring for somebody, and have this taken over to the station by the first wagon."
"Say, you better scratch this Fresno," said Larry.
"Why?"
"He's hep to you."
"Nonsense!"
Glass looked up at a sound, to discover Mariedetta, the Mexican maid, who had come in answer to Speed's call.
"In the doorway'" the trainer said, under his breath. "Pipe the
Cuban Queen!"