CHAPTER X
BEFORE THE RACE
A few days before the race Dorgan moved Chief to one of half a dozensheds on the fair grounds, which a load of lumber and another of strawmade comfortable. There he dwelt with him, giving him easy exercise andsizing up the other horses.
"Outside this Flambeau there ain't much to worry about," he concluded."Only with a field of seven, like there will be in this race, there'salways the chance of something going wrong. Chief ain't wise to starts,nor to running in company."
"You catch 'um good start," Paul Sam advised.
"You're a wise Injun," Dorgan told him. "I'll try to be somewhere's onthe line--or in front of it. Still, I ain't quite burglar-proof."
At the fair Angus had a number of exhibits of ranch produce, cattle, andhis team of young drivers. The night before the race he had beenarranging his exhibits. This done he had supper, strolled around for anhour, and then returned to the National House, which was the leadinghotel, in search of a man to whom he hoped to sell a few head of cattle.He got the number of his prospective customer's room, but apparently hehad been misinformed, for the room held a poker game in full blast, theplayers being Gavin and Gerald French, two somewhat hard-facedstrangers, and a young fellow about his own age whom he set down as anEnglishman.
The French boys nodded a greeting.
"Hold on a minute," said Gerald as Angus would have withdrawn. "I wantto see you."
So Angus remained, and standing behind Gerald watched the play.
One of the strangers dealt. On the draw Gerald held a full house; andyet he dropped out, as did Gavin. The Englishman who stayed lost most ofhis remaining stack. But the winning stranger did not seem elated. Hescowled at the pot as he took it in.
Wondering what intuition had bade Gerald lay down a full--for the pothad been won by fours--Angus continued to watch the game. The deal cameto Gerald, who riffled the cards.
"Time we had a drink," said he and rising brushed past Angus to touch awall button. Reseating himself he began to deal.
One of the strangers opened. Gerald, as Angus could see, had nothing.Nevertheless he stayed, drawing three cards. Everybody stayed. Thebetting was brisk, and the pile of chips in the center grew. Gerald wasthe first to drop out. One of the strangers and the Englishman followedsuit. Thus it was between the remaining stranger and Gavin. Theyproceeded to raise each other.
"If the limit was something worth while," said the stranger, "I couldget proper action on this hand."
"It's high enough for these ranchers," the other stranger observed."They don't like a hard game."
"What would you like?" Gavin queried.
"If you're game to lift it, you can come after a hundred."
Gavin, reaching into his pocket, brought forth a sheaf of currency fromwhich he stripped two bills.
"_And_ a hundred," he said.
The stranger's breath sucked hard through his teeth. His companionglanced swiftly and suspiciously at him and then at Gerald.
"This started out as a friendly game," he observed, a note of warning inhis voice.
"Well, there's his hundred," the player said. "What you got? Comeon--show 'em." He leaned forward.
"All the bullets," Gavin replied. He spread four aces face up, while hisother hand reached for the pot.
The other stranger leaned forward, also, peering at the cards. Suddenlyhe started and his hand shot toward them. But Gavin's fell on it,pinning it to the table.
"What are you trying to do?" he demanded. Beneath the coldness of histone there was something hard and menacing. The stranger wrenched tofree his hand. It remained pinned in Gavin's grasp.
"I want to see those cards!" he cried with an oath.
"Where do you come in?" Gavin asked. "You didn't call me."
"But I did," the losing stranger broke in. "I want to see those cards,and I'm going to."
"You're looking at them now," Gavin pointed out.
Gerald coolly swept up the cards.
"I dealt them," he said. "They look all right to me. Four aces and aclub seven. Take a look at them, Mackay, and see if this man hasanything to kick at."
Thus appealed to, Angus took the cards. "I don't see anything wrong withthem," he said.
"You don't, hey?" cried the loser. "I'm wise to you now. You did it, didyou?"
"Did what?" Angus queried.
"Slipped him a cold deck!" the other roared. "You did it when he got upto press the button."
"I did nothing of the sort!" Angus denied in amazement.
"You're a liar!" the other shrilled. "D'ye think we're going to becold-decked by a bunch of hicks?" He turned to Gavin. "Come through withthat money, or----"
"Or what?" Gavin asked.
By way of bluff or otherwise the stranger resorted to the old, cogentargument. His right hand dropped swiftly. But as it did so Gavin thrustthe table forward violently. The man went backward, chair and all.Gerald pounced on him like a leopard, caught his arm and twisted ashort-barreled gun from the clutching fingers. Gavin, with equalquickness and less effort, caught and disarmed the other man, whowithout a word had reached for his gun to back his friend.
"Bad actors, you two!" Gerald sneered. "Gamblers--gunmen. Shocking!What'll we do with them, Gan?"
"Let 'em go," said the big man contemptuously, releasing his captive andflipping the cartridges from the gun. "Beat it, you blighters, and pickout easier marks next time."
"You big crook!" snarled the owner of the gun, "I'll get you----"
He never finished the sentence, for Gavin was on him. He caught him bythe clothes above his breast, lifted him clear and slammed him backagainst the wall. There he held him, pinned with one hand, like a mothin a show-case.
"Get me, will you?" he growled hoarsely. "If I hit you, you cheaptinhorn, you'd never get me or anybody else. Try to get me, and I'llbreak your back over my knee. Like this!"
He plucked the man away from the wall as if he had been a doll, andthrew him, back down, across his knee. For an instant he held him, andthen set him on his feet. The man's face was the dead gray of asbestospaper.
"Git!" Gavin commanded. "Don't fool around here or make any more bluffs.Get out of town."
When the two strangers had gone, Gerald laughed gently.
"This breaks up our game, I guess," he said. "By the way--AngusMackay--Mr. Chetwood."
The two young men shook hands. Chetwood was a long-limbed young fellowwith the old-country color fresh in his cheeks, frank blue eyes with ababy stare which would have been a credit to any ingenue, but which heldan occasional twinkle quite at variance with their ordinary expression.Angus was inclined to like him. Chetwood, on his part, eyed the lean,hard, sinewy bulk of Angus with admiration.
"I say, what was all the row about?" he asked Gerald. "They accused youof cheating, what?"
"Old game," said Gerald carelessly. "They went up against an unbeatablehand, lost more than they could afford, and tried to run a bluff. Theywere both crooks, anyway."
"But if you knew that, why the deuce did you play with them?"
"You can't be too particular if you want a game," Gerald laughed.
"You do things so dam' casual out here," Chetwood complainedwhimsically. "Now when they tried to draw revolvers--'guns' you callthem out here--I should have given them in charge."
"Too much trouble and no police force handy," said Gerald. "But I wantedto ask you about that horse you've been training for the Indians,Mackay. Are you betting on him?"
"I haven't been training him, and I don't think I'll bet. The Indianswill, though."
"Tell 'em we'll take all the money they have, at evens."
"Even money against the field?"
"Exactly. You'd better take a little yourself."
But Angus refused, principally because he had no money to lose. Theywent down to the lobby. This was crowded. Blake French, standing on achair, was flourishing a sheaf of bills, offering even money as hisbrothers had done. He had been drinking, and his remarks seemed to bedirected at so
me certain person or persons.
Looking over the heads of the crowd, Angus saw Dorgan and Paul Samstanding together. The old Indian, bare-headed, his gray braids hangingin front of either shoulder, wearing a blanket coat, skin-tight legginsand brand-new moccasins, made an incongruous figure. The two, seeingAngus, made their way toward him.
"That bird," said Dorgan nodding toward Blake, "is makin' a cinch offer.Take all you can get. The old boy, here, was just waitin' for you tohold the bets."
"S'pose you hold money, me bet him now," Paul Sam confirmed.
"Come on, come on!" Blake vociferated from his perch. "Put up a bet onyour--cayuse. Here's real money. Come and get it!"
Dorgan turned to face him.
"You're makin' a whole lot of noise on that handful of chicken feed," heobserved.
"Come and take it then," Blake retorted. "They tell me you used to ridefor white men once."
"Well, that never gave _you_ no first call on me!" Dorgan shot back.
Somebody laughed, and Blake's temper, always ugly, flared up.
"Keep a civil tongue in your head, you down-and-outer, or I'll throw youout!" he rasped.
But Dorgan was not awed by the threat, nor by the size of the man whomade it.
"Your own tongue ain't workin' none too smooth," he retorted. "Throw meout, hey? About all you'll throw will be a D. T. fit. A hunk of micebait, that's about what you are, color and all."
With an oath Blake leaped from his chair, sending it crashing behindhim. Perfectly game, little Dorgan crouched to meet the rush, in anattitude which showed a certain experience.
But Angus, cursing the luck which seemed to lead him athwart Blake,stepped between them.
"Hold on, now," he said. "You mustn't----"
"Get out of my way!" Blake roared.
"Now wait!" Angus insisted pacifically. "It wouldn't----"
But Blake struck at him. Angus dodged and clinched. But as he began toshove Blake back Gavin's great arms were thrust between them.
"Let go, Mackay," he said. "Quit it!" he commanded Blake.
"I'll show that runt he can't insult me!" the latter frothed. "Yes, andMackay, too. Turn me loose, Gan----"
"You can't beat up their jockey before the race," his brother told him."Too raw. Mackay? Mackay'd make a mess of you. Quit it, I tell you."
"I'll----" Blake began. But Gavin suddenly cursed him.
"Do you want me to handle you?" he demanded. In his voice came thehoarse, growling note it had held when he had spoken to the man pinnedagainst the wall. His hand clamped his brother's wrist and his eyesblazed. Half drunk as he was, Blake apparently recognized these dangersignals.
"Let go," he said. "I won't start anything."
His brother eyed him for a moment and turned to Paul Sam.
"How much do you want to bet?"
For answer the Indian pulled forth a huge roll of bills bound by abuckskin thong. They represented sales of steers, cayuses, skins ofmarten, beaver, bear and lynx, bounties on coyotes and mountain lion.
"Bet um all!" he announced succinctly.
"See what he's got," Gavin said to Angus, "and we'll cover it."
Angus sorted out the currency. It was in bills of various denominationsand various stages of dilapidation. The amount totaled a little overtwelve hundred dollars.
"We'll put up a check," said Gerald.
But when this was explained to Paul Sam, he interposed a decidednegative. He himself was putting up real, tangible money, that could behandled and counted. Similar money must be put up against it. And whenthis was procured, with considerable difficulty at that time of night,he would not hear of it being put in the hotel safe, but insisted thatAngus should hold it literally.
"Ha-a-lo put um in skookum box," he declared positively. "Me know you.S'pose you keep money, s'pose me win, me catch um sure. S'pose him putin skookum box, mebbe so me no catch um. You keep um money."
Reluctantly, Angus accepted its custody, but privately he made up hismind to deposit it in the safe as soon as the old Indian had gone. Soonafter, Chetwood drew him aside.
"I've a fancy to have a little on the old buster's horse," he announced."What do you say?"
"I don't say anything; it's your money."
"Quite so. But what sort of a run do you think I'll get for it?"
"The best the horse has in him, whatever that is."
"Then I've a notion to have a go at it."
"Do you know anything about the horses?"
"Not a thing," Chetwood replied cheerfully. "In the expressive languageof the country, I'm playing a hunch. That old Indian takes my eye,rather."
"He's foxy enough. But the Indians have entered a horse every year, andnever won yet."
"But a chap can't lose all the time," Chetwood observed. "And then theFrenches are offering even money against the field. No end sporting of'em, but risky. That little ex-jockey knows his business?"
"I think so. Perhaps you'd like to have a talk with him and see thehorse. He's going out now, and we'll go with him, if you care to."
"Thanks," Chetwood acknowledged. "That's very decent of you, Mackay. I'dlike it very much."
The Land of Strong Men Page 10