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. . . An' see here, girl, Wildfire can beat this gray
racer of your father's."
"Oh!" cried Lucy.
"Wildfire can beat the King," repeated the rider, intensely. "The tame horse
doesn't step on this earth that can run with Wildfire. He's a stallion. He has
been a killer of horses. It's in him to KILL. If he ran a race it would be
that instinct in him."
"How can we plan it?" went on Lucy, impulsively. She had forgotten to withdraw
her hands from his. "It must be a surprise--a complete surprise. If you came
to the Ford we couldn't keep it secret. And Dad or Farlane would prevent me,
somehow."
"It's easy. Ride out here as often as you can. Bring a light saddle an' let me
put you up on Wildfire. You'll run him, train him, get him in shape. Then the
day of the races or the night before I'll go in an' hide out in the sage till
you come or send for Wildfire."
"Oh, it'll be glorious," she cried, with eyes like stars. "I know just where
to have you hide. A pile of rocks near the racecourse. There's a spring and
good grass.


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