Going Some | Page 3

gloomily; then after a moment,
during which the only sound was that of the muffled hoof- beats: "Well,
what we goin' to do about it?"
"Humph! I've laid awake nights figurin' that out. I reckon we'll just
have to git another foot-racer and beat Skinner. He ain't the fastest in
the world."
"That takes coin. We're broke."
"Mebbe Mr. Chapin would lend a helpin' hand."
"No chance!" said Stover, grimly. "He's sore on foot-racin'. Says it
disturbs us and upsets our equalubrium."
Carara fetched a deep sigh.
"It's ver' bad t'ing, Senor. I don' feel no worse w'en my gran'mother
die."
The three men loped onward through the darkness, weighted heavily
with disappointment.
Affairs at the Flying Heart Ranch were not all to Jack Chapin's liking.
Ever since that memorable foot-race, more than a month before, a
gloom had brooded over the place which even the presence of two
Smith College girls, not to mention that of Mr. Fresno, was unable to
dissipate. The cowboys moped about like melancholy shades, and
neglected their work to discuss the disgrace that had fallen upon them.
It was a task to get any of them out in the morning, several had quit, the

rest were quarrelling among themselves, and the bunk-house had
already been the scene of more than one encounter, altogether too
sanguinary to have originated from such a trivial cause as a foot-race. It
was not exactly an auspicious atmosphere in which to entertain a
houseful of college boys and girls, all unversed in the ways of the
West.
The master of the ranch sought his sister Jean, to tell her frankly what
was on his mind.
"See here, Sis," he began, "I don't want to cast a cloud over your little
house-party, but I think you'd better keep your friends away from my
men."
"Why, what is the matter?" she demanded.
"Things are at a pretty high tension just now, and the boys have had
two or three rows among themselves. Yesterday Fresno tried to 'kid'
Willie about _The Holy City;_ said it was written as a coon song, and
wasn't sung in good society. If he hadn't been a guest, I guess Willie
would have murdered him."
"Oh, Jack! You won't let Willie murder anybody, not even Berkeley,
while the people are here, will you?" coaxed Miss Chapin, anxiously.
"What made you invite Berkeley Fresno, anyhow?" was the rejoinder.
"This is no gilded novelty to him. He is a Western man."
Miss Chapin numbered her reasons sagely. "In the first place-- Helen.
Then there had to be enough men to go around. Last and best, he is the
most adorable man I ever saw at a house-party. He's an angel at
breakfast, sings perfectly beautifully--you know he was on the Stanford
Glee Club--"
"Humph!" Jack was unimpressed. "If you roped him for Helen Blake to
brand, why have you sent for Wally Speed?"
"Well, you see, Berkeley and Helen didn't quite hit it off, and Mr.

Speed is--a friend of Culver's." Miss Chapin blushed prettily.
"Oh, I see! I thought myself that this affair had something to do with
you and Culver Covington, but I didn't know it had lapsed into a sort of
matrimonial round-up. Suppose Miss Blake shouldn't care for Speed
after he gets here?"
"Oh, but she will! That's where Berkeley Fresno comes in. When two
men begin to fight for her, she'll have to begin to form a preference,
and I'm sure it will be for Wally Speed. Don't you see?"
The brother looked at his sister shrewdly. "It seems to me you learned a
lot at Smith."
Jean tossed her head. "How absurd! That sort of knowledge is perfectly
natural for a girl to have." Then she teased: "But you admit that my
selection of a chaperon was excellent, don't you, Jack?"
"Mrs. Keap and I are the best of friends," Jack averred, with supreme
dignity. "I'm not in the market, and a man doesn't marry a widow,
anyhow. It's too old and experienced a beginning."
"Nonsense! Roberta Keap is only twenty-three. Why, she hardly knew
her husband, even! It was one of those sudden, impulsive affairs that
would overwhelm any girl who hadn't seen a man for four years. And
then he enlisted in the Spanish War, and was killed."
"Considerate chap!"
"Roberta, you know, is my best friend, after Helen. Do be nice to her,
Jack." Miss Chapin sighed. "It is too bad the others couldn't come."
"Yes, a small house-party has its disadvantages. By-the-way, what's
that gold thing on your frock?"
"It's a medal. Culver sent it to me."
"Another?"

"Yes, he won the intercollegiate championship again." Miss Chapin
proudly extended the emblem on its ribbon.
"I wish to goodness Covington had been here to take Humpy Joe's
place," said the young cattle-man as