That was a terrible hour for J. Wallingford Speed. As for Larry,
once he had grasped the full significance of the telegram, he
became a different person. Some fierce electric charge wrought a
chemical alteration in his every fibre; he became a domineering,
iron-willed autocrat, obsessed by the one idea of his own
preservation, and not hesitating to use physical force when force
became necessary to lessen his peril.
Repeatedly Speed folded his arms over his stomach, rocked in the
throes of anguish, and wailed that he was perishing of cramps;
the trainer only snorted with derision. When he refused to don
the clothes selected for him, Glass fell upon him like a raging
grizzly.
"You won't, eh? We'll see!" Then Speed took refuge in anger, but
the other cried:
"Never mind the hysterics, Bo. You're going to run off some
blubber to-day."
"But I have _to go riding_!"
"Not a chance!"
"I tell you I'll run when I come back," maintained the youth,
almost tearfully beseeching. "They're waiting for me."
"Let 'em gallop--you can run alongside."
"With all these sweaters? I'd have a sunstroke."
"It's the best thing for you. I never thought of that."
As Glass forced his protege toward the house, the other young
people appeared clad for their excursion; their horses were
tethered to the porch. And it was an ideal day for a ride--warm,
bright, and inviting. Over to the northward the hills,
mysteriously purple, invited exploration; to the south and east
the golden prairie undulated gently into a hazy realm of infinite
possibilities; the animals themselves turned friendly eyes upon
their riders, champing and whinnying as if eager to bear them out
into the distances.
"We are ready!" called Jean gayly.
"What in the world--" Helen paused at sight of the swathed
figure. "Are you cold, Mr. Speed?"
"Climb on your horses and get a start," panted the burly trainer;
"he's goin' to race you ten miles."
"I'm going to do nothing of the sort. I'm going to--"
But Glass jerked him violently, crying:
"And no talkin' to gals, neither. You're trainin'. Now, get a
move!"
Speed halted stubbornly.
"Hit her up, Wally! G'wan, now--faster! No loafing, Bo, or I'll
wallop you!" Nor did he cease until they both paused from
exhaustion. Even then he would not allow his charge to do more
than regain his breath before urging him onward.
"See here," Wally stormed at last, "what's the use? I can't--"
"What's the use? That's the use!" Glass pointed to the north,
where a lone horseman was watching them from a knoll. "D'you know
who that is?"
The rider was small and stoop-shouldered.
"Willie!"
"That's who."
"He's following us!"
With knees trembling beneath him Speed jogged feebly on down the
road, Glass puffing at his heels.
When, after covering five miles, they finally returned to the
Flying Heart, it was with difficulty that they could drag one
foot after another. Wally Speed was drenched with perspiration,
and Glass resembled nothing so much as a steaming pudding;
rivulets of sweat ran down his neck, his face was purple, his
lips swollen.
"Y-you'll have--to run alone--this afternoon," panted the
tormentor.
"This afternoon? Haven't I run enough for--one day?" the victim
pleaded. "Glass, old man, I--I'm all in, I tell you; I'm ready to
die."
"Got to--fry off some more--leaf-lard," declared the trainer with
vulgarity. He lumbered into the cook-house, radiating heat waves,
puffing like a traction-engine, while his companion staggered to
the gymnasium, and sank into a chair. A moment later he appeared
with two bottles of beer, one glued to his lips. Both were
evidently ice cold, judging from the fog that covered them.
Speed rose with a cry.
"Gee! That looks good!"
But the other, thrusting him aside without removing the neck of
the bottle from his lips, gurgled:
"No booze, Wally! You're trainin'!"
"But I'm thirsty!" shouted the athlete, laying hands upon the
full bottle, and trying to wrench it free.
"Have a little sense. If you're thirsty, hit the sink." Glass
still maintained his hold, mumbling indistinctly: "Water's the
worst thing in the world. Wait! I'll get you some."
He stepped into the bunk-room, to return an instant later with a
cup half full. "Rinse out your mouth, and don't swallow it all."
"All! There isn't that much. Ugh! It's lukewarm. I want a bucket
of ice-water--_ice-water_!"
"Nothing doing! I won't stand to have your epictetus chilled."
"My what?"
"Never mind now. Off with them clothes, and get under that
shower. I guess it'll feel pretty good to-day."
Speed obeyed instructions sullenly, while his trainer, reclining
in the cosey-corner, uncorked the second bottle. From behind the
blanket curtains where the barrel stood, the former demanded:
"What did you mean by saying I'd have to run again this
afternoon?"
"Starts!" said Glass, shortly.
"Starts?"
"Fast work. We been loafing so far; you got to get some ginger."
"Rats! What's the use?"
"No use at all. You couldn't outrun a steam-roller, but if you
won't duck out, I've got to do my best. I'd as lief die of a
gunshot-wound as starve to death in the desert."
"Do you suppose we _could_ run away?"
"Could we!" Glass propped himself eagerly upon one elbow. "Leave
it to me."
"No!" Wally resumed rubbing himself down. "I can't leave without
looking like a quitter. Fresno would get her sure."
"What's the difference if you're astraddle of a cloud with a gold
guitar in your lap?"
"Oh, they won't _kill_ us."
"I tell you these cow-persons is desp'rate. If you stay here and
run that race next Saturday, she'll tiptoe up on Sunday and put a
rose in your hand, sure. I can see her now, all in black. Take it
from me, Wally, we ain't goin' to have no luck in this thing."
"My dear fellow, the simplest way out of the difficulty is for me
to injure myself--"
"Here!" Glass hopped to his feet and dove through the blankets.
"None of that! Have a little regard for me. If you go lame it's
my curtain."
All that day the trainer stayed close to his charge, never
allowing him out of his sight, and when, late in the afternoon,
Speed rebelled at the espionage, Glass merely shrugged his fat
shoulders. "But I want to be alone--with _her_. Can't you
see?"
"I can, but I won't. Go as far as you like. I'll close my eyes."
"Or _I'll_ close them for you!" The lad scowled; his
companion laughed mirthlessly.
"Don't start nothin' like that--I'd ruin you. Gals is bad for a
man in trainin' anyhow."
"I suppose I'm not to see her--"
"You can _see_ her, but I want to hear what you say to her.
No emotion till after this race, Wally."
"You're an idiot! This whole affair is preposterous--ridiculous."
"And yet it don't make us laugh, does it?" Glass mocked.
"If these cowboys make me run that race, they'll be sorry--mark
my words, they'll be sorry."
Speed lighted a cigarette and inhaled deeply, but only once. The
other lunged at him with a cry and snatched it. "Give me that
cigarette!"
"I've had enough of this foolishness," Wally stormed. "You are
discharged!"
"I wish I was."
"You are!"
"_Not!_"
"I say you are fired!" Glass stared at him. "Oh, I mean it! I
won't be bullied."
"Very well." Glass rose ponderously. "I'll wise up that queen of
yours, Mr. Speed."
"You aren't going to talk to Miss Blake? Wait!" Speed wilted
miserably. "She mustn't know. I--I hire you over again."
"Suit yourself."
"You see, don't you? My love for Helen is the only serious thing
I ever experienced," said the boy. "I--can't lose her. You've got
to help me out."
And so it was agreed.
That evening, when the clock struck nine, J. Wallingford Speed
was ready and willing to drag himself off to bed, in spite of the
knowledge that Fresno was waiting to take his place in the
hammock. He was racked by a thousand pains, his muscles were
sore, his back lame. He was consumed by a thirst which Glass
stoutly refused to let him quench, and possessed by a fearful
longing for a smoke. When he dozed off, regardless of the snores
from the bunk-house adjoining, Berkeley Fresno's musical tenor
was sounding in his ears. And Helen Blake was vaguely surprised.
For the first time in their acquaintance Mr. Speed had yawned
openly in her presence, and she wondered if he were tiring of
her.
It seemed to Speed that he had barely closed his eyes when he
felt a rough hand shaking him, and heard his trainer's voice
calling, in a half-whisper: "Come on, Cull! Get up!"
When he turned over it was only to be shaken into complete
wakefulness.
"Hurry up, it's daylight!"
"Where?"
"Come, now, you got to run five miles before breakfast!"
Speed sat up with a groan. "If I run five miles," he said, "I
won't want any breakfast," and laid himself down again
gratefully--he was very sore--whereat his companion fairly
dragged him out of bed. As yet the room was black, although the
windows were grayed by the first faint streaks of dawn. From the
adjoining room came a chorus of distress: snores of every size,
volume, and degree of intensity, from the last harrowing gasp of
strangulation to the bold trumpetings of a bull moose. There were
long drawn sighs, groans of torture, rumbling blasts. Speed
shuddered.
"They sound like a troop of trained sea-lions," said he.
"Don't wake 'em up. Here!" Glass yawned widely, and tossed a
bundle of sweaters at his companion.
"Ugh! These clothes are all wet and cold, and--it feels like
blood!"
"Nothin' but the mornin' dew."
"It's perspiration."
"Well, a little sweat won't hurt you."
"Nasty word." Speed yawned in turn. "Perspiration! I can't wear
wet clothes," and would have crept back into his bed.
This time Glass deposited him upon a stool beside the table, and
then lighted a candle, by the sickly glare of which he selected a
pair of running-shoes.
"Why didn't you leave me alone?" grumbled the younger man. "The
only pleasure I get is in sleep--I forget things then."
"Yes," retorted the former, sarcastically, "and you also seem to
forget that these are our last days among the living. Saturday
the big thing comes off."
"Forget! I dreamed about it!" The boy sighed heavily. It was the
hour in which hope reaches its lowest ebb and vitality is
weakest. He was very cold and very miserable.
"You ain't got no edge on me," the other acknowledged,
mournfully. "I'm too young to die, and that's a bet."
Suddenly the pandemonium in the bunk-house was pierced by the
brazen jangle of an alarm-clock, whereat a sleepy voice cried:
"Cloudy, kill that damn clock!"
The Indian uttered some indistinguishable epithet, and the next
instant there came a crash as the offending timepiece was hurled
violently against the wall. In silence Glass shoved his unsteady
victim ahead of him out into the dawn. In the east the sun was
rising amid a riotous splendor. At any other time, under any
other conditions, Speed could not have restrained his admiration,
for the whole world was a glorious sparkling panoply of color.
The tumbled masses of the hills were blazing at their crests, the
valleys dark and cool. In the east the limb of the sun was just
rearing itself, the air was heady with the scent of growing
things, and so clear that the distances were magically shortened;
a certain wild, intoxicating exuberance surcharged the out-of-
doors. But to the stiff and wearied Eastern lad it was all
cruelly mocking. When he halted listlessly to view its beauties
he was goaded forward, ever forward, faster and faster, until
finally, amid protests and sighs and complaining joints, he broke
into a heavy, flat-footed jog-trot that jolted the artistic sense
entirely out of him.