"No!" Creech turned pale and swallowed hard.

"Two thousand an' Dusty Ben along with the others?" This was an unheard-of
price to pay for any horse. Creech saw that Bostil was desperate. It was an
almost overpowering temptation. Evidently Creech resisted it only by applying
all his mind to the thought of his clean-limbed, soft-eyed, noble horse.

Bostil did not give Creech time to speak. "Twenty-five hundred an' Two Face
along with the rest!"

"My God, Bostil--stop it! I can't PART with Blue Roan. You're rich an' you've
no heart. Thet I always knew. At least to me you never had, since I owned them
two racers. Didn't I beg you, a little time back, to lend me a few hundred? To
meet thet debt? An' you wouldn't, unless I'd sell the hosses. An' I had to
lose my sheep. Now I'm a poor man--gettin' poorer all the time. But I won't
sell or trade Blue Roan, not for all you've got!"

Creech seemed to gain strength with his speech and passion with the strength.
His eyes glinted at the hard, paling face of his rival. He raised a clenching
fist.

"An' by G--d, I'm goin' to win thet race!"

During that week Lucy had heard many things about Joel Creech, and some of
them were disquieting.

Some rider had not only found Joel's clothes on the trail, but he had
recognized the track of the horse Lucy rode, and at once connected her with
the singular discovery. Coupling that with Joel's appearance in the village
incased in a heaving armor of adobe, the riders guessed pretty close to the