"Bully for the governor!" cried George, grabbing his father's hand. "Why, I didn't know anything about this, myself."
"It was a 'dark horse,'" chuckled Mr. Lorry. "Come on, now, and let's go home and get out of this hubbub. Matt, you and McGlory will come with us. We're going to have a spread."
[CHAPTER XVI.]
CONCLUSION.
All that happened, after Matt received that check for $2,000, was a good deal like a dream to him. He remembered descending into the Sprite for a return to the clubhouse, and finding Ping Pong in the boat.
Where Ping Pong had come from no one seemed to know. Not much attention had been paid to him after Matt boarded the Sprite and started for the stake boat. Yet there the little Chinaman was, kneeling at the bulkhead of the boat, fondling the steering wheel, patting the levers, laying his yellow cheek against the gunwale, and all the while crooning a lot of heathen gibberish.
"What's the blooming idiot trying to do?" McGlory shouted.
It seemed impossible for the cowboy to do anything but yell. His exultation suggested noise, and he talked at the top of his lungs.
"Don't you understand, Joe?" said Lorry. "He's trying to thank the Sprite for winning the race."