Speed felt a cold chill steal up his spine, while Miss Blake went pale and laid a trembling hand upon his arm.
"You see it ain't intrinsic value so much as association and sentiment that leads to this interview," Stover continued. "It ain't no joke—we don't joke with the Centipede—and we've relied on you. The Mex here would do murder for that saddle," Carara nodded, and breathed something in his own tongue. "I have parted with my honor, and Willie is gamblin' just as high."
"But I notice Mr.—Willie still has his revolver."
"Sure I got it!" Willie laughed, abruptly. "And I don't give it up till we lose, neither. That's the understandin'." His voice was surprisingly harsh for one so high-pitched. He looked more like a professor than ever.
"Willie has reasons for his caution which we respect," explained the spokesman.
J. Wallingford Speed, face to face with these serious-minded gentlemen, began to reflect that this foot-race was not a thing to be taken too lightly.
"I can't understand," he declared, with a touch of irritation, "why you should risk such priceless things upon a friendly encounter."
"Friendly!" cried Willie and Stover in a tone that made their listeners gasp. "The Centipede and the Flying Heart is just as friendly as a pair of wild boars."
"You see, it's a good thing we wised you up," added the latter.
Carara muttered fiercely: "Senor, I works five year' for that saddle. I am a good gambler, si, si! but I keel somebody biffore I lose it to the Centipede."