"Sure! Strange tracks. Man's tracks." "What does that signify?" "We ain't altogether certain. Carara says he seen a stranger hangin' around night before last, and jest now we found where a hoss had been picketed out in the ravine. Looks like he'd stood there more'n once." "Why, this is decidedly mysterious." "We figured we'd ought to tell you." "It has nothing to do with me." "I ain't sure. It looks to us like it's somebody from the Centipede. They're equal to any devilment." Speed showed an utter lack of comprehension, so Willie explained. "Understand, we've made this race pay or play. Mebbe they aim to cripple you." "Me!" Speed started. "Good Heavens!" "Oh, they'd do it quick enough! I wouldn't put it past 'em to drop a .45 through your winder if it could be done safe." "Shoot me, you mean?" "Allah!" said Glass, devoutly from his corner. Stover and Willie nodded. "If I was you, I'd keep the lamp between me and the winder every night." "Why, this is abominable!" exclaimed the young college man, stiffly. "I--I can't stand for this, it's getting too serious." "There ain't nothin' to fear," said Willie, soothingly. "Remember, I told you at the start that we'd see there wasn't no crooked work done. Well, I'm goin' to ride herd on you, constant, Mr. Speed." He smiled in a manner to reassure. "If there's any shootin' comes off, I'll be in on it." "S--say, what's to prevent us being murdered when we're out for a run?" queried Glass. "Me!" declared the little man. "I'll saddle my bronc' an' lope along with you. We'll keep to the open country." Instantly Speed saw the direful consequences of such a procedure,