and I had to accept--or be a quitter." Glass nodded appreciatively. "All the same," said he, "you've got more nerve than a burglar. How you goin' to side-step?" "I made the match for an 'unknown.'" Speed winked. "Covington will be here in a day or two. I'll wire him to hurry up. Fortunately I brought a lot of athletic clothes with me, so I'll go into training under your direction. When Covington gets here I'll let _him_ run." The fat man sighed with relief. "Now I'm hep. I was afraid you'd try to go through with it." "Hardly. I'll sprain an ankle, or something. She'll be there with the sympathy. See? Covington will run the race; the cowboys will get their phonograph; and I'll get--well, if I can beat out this Native Son tenor singer, I'll invite you to the wedding. There wasn't any other way out." Glass mopped his brow. "You had me wingin' for a while, but I plugged your game with the cowboys. Pawnee Bill and his Congress of Rough Riders think you're a cyclone." "It's the first chance I ever had to wear that silk running-suit. Who knows, maybe I _can_ run!" "Nix, now! Don't kid yourself too far. This thing is funny enough as it stands." "Oh, I dare say it looks like a joke to you, but it doesn't to me, Larry. If I don't marry that girl, I--I'll go off my balance, that's all, and I'm not going to overlook any advantage whatever. Fresno sings love-songs, and he's got a mint of money. Well, I'm going to work this athletic pose to death. I'm going into training, I'm going to talk, eat, sleep, live athletics for a week, and when I'm unexpectedly crippled on the eve of the race, it is going to break my heart. Understand! I am going to be so desperately disappointed that I'll have to choose between suicide and marriage. The way I feel now, I think I'll choose marriage. But you must help." "Leave it to me, Bo!" "In the first place, I want some training-quarters." "That's right, don't be a piker." "And I want you to boost." "I'm there! When do we begin?"