And how wonderful a
place! It can't be more than twenty miles from home. . . . I must be going
soon. I'm forgetting Sage King. Did I tell you I was training him for the
races?"
"No, you didn't. What races? Tell me," he replied, with keen interest.
Then Lucy told him about the great passion of her father--about the long,
time-honored custom of free-for-all races, and the great races that had been
run in the past; about the Creeches and their swift horses; about the rivalry
and speculation and betting; and lastly about the races to be run in a few
weeks--races so wonderful in prospect that even the horse-thief, Cordts, had
begged to be allowed to attend.
"I'm going to see the King beat Creech's roan," shouted the rider, with red in
his cheeks and a flash in his eye.
His enthusiasm warmed Lucy's interest, yet it made her thoughtful. Ideas
flashed into her mind. If the rider attended the races he would have that
fleet stallion with him. He could not be separated from the horse that had
cost him so dearly. What would Bostil and Holley and Farlane say at sight of
Wildfire? Suppose Wildfire was to enter the races! It was probable that he
could run away from the whole field--even beat the King.
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