Jeff had been running to win, that day, and he had taken odds on Skeeter that had seemed to him perfectly safe.
"I'll run yuh horse for horse!" he bellowed and spat out an epithet that sent Bud at him white-lipped.
"Damn yuh, ride down to the quarter post and I'll show you some running!" Bud yelled back.

"And after you've swallowed dust all the way up the track, you go with me to where the women can't see and I'll lick the living tar outa you!" Jeff swore and wheeled Skeeter toward the starting post, beckoning Bud to follow.

And Bud, hastily tucking in a flapping bulge of striped shirt, went after him.

At that moment he was not Bud, but Buddy in one of his fighting moods, with his plans forgotten while he avenged an insult.
Men lined up at the wire to judge for themselves the finish, and Dave Truman rode alone to start them.

No one doubted but that the start would be fair--Jeff and Bud would see to that! For the first time in months the rein-ends stung Smoky's flanks when he was in his third jump.