“Pardon me! but there is forty-five dollars more coming to me, as winner of the ladies’ race.”
“You don’t mean to tell me that you are the one who rode in the ladies’ race—that you are claiming the first money on both the ladies’ and squaw races?” he exclaimed with fierce bluster.
“Yes, I rode in both races! Did all that I could to add to their interest.”
“And you now have the effrontery to claim both prizes?”
“Why not? I won both of them.”
“Which was irregular and will not be allowed. A protest has already been filed against you in this race, in behalf of Miss Webster, to whom the first prize money will be paid. You never would have led coming in had you not quirted her horse over the head. You will get only the prize for the squaw race. Here Sam!” speaking to his assistant for the second time, “pay this squaw the twenty five dollars as I directed. It is the money she won in the squaw race. Pay her that and no more.”
Cogewea again demurred, when Jim, who still sat his horse, interposed:
“Here! Sis, you take this here money as the Judge offers it. The prizes are different and you don’t want to get the two mixed.”
Cogewea did as directed and the judge turned away to greet some newly arrived friends: The Westerner accosted him:
“This here business should be settled fair. Everyone who saw the race know how the quirt fightin’ come ’bout. If the money don’t belong to the little gal, why then she ain’t goin’ to ask for it. But if she won it, then it’s hers and you ought give it to her. I am willin’ you decide, as you’re the proper judge.”
“I have decided it and she has been given all the money that she will get.” was the emphatic reply. “No Injun can come around here and dictate to me in regard to judging these races. Do you savey that?”
“The white man’s rulin’ is law,” rejoined Jim calmly, “but maybe you’ll tell the little gal just why she’s not to have this here prize she won so fairly in the ladies’ race.”
“Because,” sneered the now irate judge, “she is a squaw and had no right to ride in the ladies’ race. I would advise you,” he added in a menacing tone, “to get away from here if you do not want trouble. This thing is settled and settled for keeps!”
“That’s right, pardner,” exclaimed a heavy-faced man who, with a group of followers edged his way through the crowd of spectators. “When it comes to the pass that a squaw can enter a ladies’ race and be permitted to win over a girl like Verona Webster, and that too, by quirting her horse over the head, then it is time that white people step out and let the damned Injuns run the races! For one, I’m not goin’ stand for it and all the boys are with me! If any low born breed is looking for trouble, he can now find it in sight!”
The last words were directed to Jim, and the speaker’s hand rested dangerously near his pistol’s grip. But the half-blood, who had been brought up amid the rough elements of the range, displayed no perturbation at this tirade from the newcomer, who stood to the right and apart from the disputants. The position was strategic and Jim was at a disadvantage, should there be gunplay. With stoical disregard, he again addressed the judicial dispenser of prizes:
“Only one word more, Judge, and I ain’t trailin’ for no disagreeableness. You paid the little gal the twenty five dollars ’cause she’s a squaw?”
“Yes, and I am not going to pay her the forty five dollars for the same reason; that she is a squaw! Do you get that?”
“Stay by it, Judge! We’re with you to the last cartridge!” vociferated the heavy face and his backers.
“My hearin’ ain’t no ways defective,” came the serene reply without notice to this side clamor, “But I may be locoed as to your meanin’. I take it that the little gal bein’ a squaw, she can’t be a lady! Is that it? She’s a waitin’ to hear you say that. Tell these here people your ’cisin regardin’ the character of the little gal.”
The judge was astounded. Here, contrary to all precedents, was a tribesman persistently contending against a deal—however unfair—meted out by his, in every way—“superior.” Sitting sidewise his saddle and chewing at a scant moustache, he was looking into the eyes of his antagonist with exasperating calmness. The brazen effrontery of the breed was maddening. The judge, a man of tried nerve in more than one gun fight, like a storm-cloud about to pour its wrath upon a waiting world, paused; choking with livid rage. Addressing a stalky individual wearing a police badge of exaggerated dimensions, who had just stepped within the circle, he brusquely ordered:
“Here, Marshal, put the irons on this rider and lock him up as a dangerous character! He is charged with malicious interference with an honest distribution of race awards, by coming here armed and attempting intimidation of the program officials. There will be plenty of witnesses to make the complaint stick, and he can consider himself fortunate in spending a few months behind bars rather than dangling at a rope’s end, which would have happened within a very few seconds had you not so opportunely arrived.”
“Slide down from that hoss, Injun, while I ornament yo’ with the bracelets,” blustered the constable, advancing as he produced a pair of burnished handcuffs. “An’ don’t make a mistake by thinkin’ it only a joke, savey?”
Jim remained immobile, and something in his demeanor caused the minion of the law to hesitate. It was at this moment that Cogewea, with swift dexterity, dashed the wadded bills which she had received, full in the
