I guess the track's wide enough for
twelve."
"Wal, Brack, there'll likely be one hoss out in front an' some stretched out
behind," replied Bostil, dryly. "The track's sure wide enough."
"Won't thet be a grand race!" exclaimed an enthusiastic rider. "Wisht I had
about a million to bet!"
"Bostil, I 'most forgot," went on Brackton, "Cordts sent word by the Piutes
who come to-day thet he'd be here sure."
Bostil's face subtly changed. The light seemed to leave it. He did not reply
to Brackton--did not show that he heard the comment on all sides. Public
opinion was against Bostil's permission to allow Cordts and his horse-thieves
to attend the races. Bostil appeared grave, regretful. Yet it was known by all
that in the strangeness and perversity of his rider's nature he wanted Cordts
to see the King win that race. It was his rider's vanity and defiance in the
teeth of a great horse-thief. But no good would come of Cordts's presence
--that much was manifest.
There was a moment of silence. All these men, if they did not fear Bostil,
were sometimes uneasy when near him.
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