The fact remained, however, that there were only two wagers against the King, and both were put up by Indians. Macomber was betting on second or third place for his horse in the big race. No odds of Bostil's tempted him.
"Say, where's Wetherby?" rolled out Bostil. "He'll back his hoss."
"Wetherby's ridin' over to-morrow," replied Macomber. "But you gotta bet him two to one."
"See hyar, Bostil," spoke up old Cal Blinn, "you jest wait till I git an eye on the King's runnin'. Mebbe I'll go you even money."
"An' as fer me, Bostil," said Colson, "I ain't set up yit which hoss I'll race."
Burthwait, an old rider, came forward to Brackton's desk and entered a wager against the field that made all the men gasp.
"By George! pard, you ain't a-limpin' along!" ejaculated Bostil, admiringly, and he put a hand on the other's shoulder.
"Bostil, I've a grand hoss," replied Burthwait. "He's four years old, I guess, fer he was born wild, an' you never seen him."
"Wild hoss? ... Huh!" growled Bostil. "You must think he can run."
"Why, Bostil, a streak of lightnin' ain't anywheres with him."