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Lucky Broad likewise discouraged the ex-jockey by saying, "If you call her hand, Danny, I'll bust you where you're biggest." The Countess still held the muzzle of her revolver close to the chief's body. Now she said, peremptorily: "You're going to end this joke right now. Order their packs off, QUICK!"
One by one the greater part of the boys, after adoring and hoping, saw for themselves that Miss Brown could never be expected to change her name at their solicitation. Sadder but better men, they retired from the contest, and solaced themselves by betting on the chances of those still "on the track," as an ex-jockey tersely expressed the situation.
And when the respectable lawyer wrote that the contract had been delivered, do you know what would happen to you?" The ex-jockey shuddered. "But you've only told me part of what I want to know," I pursued. "You got me side-tracked. This daughter of the dead pardner this girl, what about her? Where is she now?" "Europe, I believe." "When did she go?" "About three months ago."
McCloud's hotel never did much of a room business. By midnight the cowboys would be on their way for the ranches. Brower and myself were the only occupants of the second floor. For two hours I smoked and read. The ex-jockey did not move a muscle.
The ex-jockey was not accustomed to a stock saddle. He had shortened his stirrups beyond all reason so that his knees and his pointed shoes and his elbows stuck out at all angles. He had thrust his derby hat far down over his ears, and buttoned his inadequate coat tightly.
Blanc, 45 victories; Hislop, 39; Hudson, ex-jockey to M. Lupin, who gained last year the Grand Prix de Paris, 36 victories; Rolf, 35; Carratt, 32; Goater, who rides for the comte de Lagrange, and who is well known in England; and Edwards, whose "mount" was at one time quite the mode, and whose tragical death on the 3d of October last created a painful sensation.
Inquiry of McCloud elicited the fact that the ex-jockey had swallowed a hasty meal and had immediately retired to Room 4. I found Room 4 unlocked, and Brower lying fully clothed sound asleep across the bed. I did not disturb him, except that I robbed him of his pistol. All looked safe for awhile; but just to be certain I took Room 6, across the narrow hall, and left both doors open.
If Sam was able to ride soon, he would need those. And the rest of them could take their chances at getting more arms. Boyd opened his mouth as if to protest, but he did not say anything as Drew refused the Colts. "You keep 'em for him." The ex-jockey nodded. "Better be riding on, Mr. Rennie. They'll come looking, and I don't fancy having any fight here.
So if Hooper were to destroy those papers, he'd still have the cash that had been paid him, and an equal share in the property. That plain?" "Perfectly," she replied, composedly. "Why didn't he destroy them?" "Because they had been stolen by this man Brower I asked you about an ex-jockey of Hooper's. Brower held them for blackmail. Unless Hooper came through Brower would record the papers."
"I see," said the ex-jockey, very much subdued. "What's your idea? What do you want me to do?" That stumped me. To tell the truth I had no idea at all what to do. "I don't want you to go out to Hooper's ranch alone," said I. "Trust me!" he rejoined, fervently. "I reckon the first best thing is to get along out of town," I suggested. "That black bag all the plunder you got?" "That's it."
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