A very tightly folded scrap of paper slid into his palm.
"Oh, all right--I have the five here in my pocket," called Marian, and laughed quite convincingly.

"Go on and run! We won't be able to breathe freely until the race is over." Wherefore Bud turned back, puzzled and with his heart jumping.

For some reason Marian had taken this means of getting a message into his hands.
What it could be he did not conjecture; but he had a vague, unreasoning hope that she trusted him and was asking him to help her somehow.

He did not think that it concerned the race, so he did not risk opening the note then, with so many people about.
A slim, narrow-eyed youth of about Bud's weight was chosen to ride Skeeter, and together they went back over the course to the quarter post, with Dave to start them and two or three others to make sure that the race was fair.

Smoky was full now of little prancing steps, and held his neck arched while his nostrils flared in excitement, showing pink within.