“Say, Fred, what is this secret you’re keeping from us?” demanded Jack Rover, as he walked out on the piazza of the old farmhouse where his cousin sat reading a magazine.
“Who said I had a secret?” questioned the youngest of the Rover boys, as he laid down the magazine. “I’m sure I didn’t say a word about it.”
“Nonsense, Fred, you’ve got something up your sleeve, and you know it!”
“Of course he’s got something up his sleeve,” put in Andy Rover, who sat on the steps munching an apple. “It’s his arm.”
“We know well enough, Fred, that you’re not roaming around this farm singing ‘Down on the Ocean Bottom’ day and night for nothing,” added Andy’s twin brother, Randy.
“What are you talking about—‘ocean bottom?’ I don’t know any such song.” But there was a twinkle in Fred Rover’s eyes as he spoke.
“We ought to pound the secret out of him—that’s what we ought to do,” announced Randy. “Come on, you old reprobate, let us in on this, and be quick about it!” and, reaching over, he caught hold of Fred’s foot and attempted to drag his cousin from the chair.
“Hi! Let up!” cried Fred, and aimed the magazine at Randy’s head. Then he leaped up, broke away from his cousin, and vaulted the piazza railing. An instant later he was dashing across the lawn with the others in pursuit.
As the four boys tore over the grass at Valley Brook Farm three girls came from the house to witness what was going on. They were Mary and Martha Rover and their old school chum, Ruth Stevenson.
“Is it a race?” questioned Mary, Fred’s sister.
“No; I think they’re teasing Fred,” answered Martha. “They said something about Fred having a secret.”
“And he has a secret, too,” answered Ruth Stevenson.
“What is it, Ruth?” demanded the other girls quickly.
“Oh, I can’t tell you that—at least, not yet. Fred told me not to say a word about it.”
Across the lawn and down the lane shaded with big trees tore Fred Rover with his three cousins in close pursuit. Then Fred reached the barn, passed through an open doorway, and quickly rolled the door shut behind him.
“Hi, you! Let us in!” cried Jack.
“You keep out of here!” answered Fred merrily. “If you don’t I’ll go for a ride on Carrots.”
“Don’t you dare touch Carrots!” exclaimed Jack, in alarm. “You leave that horse alone!”
“Maybe he can put some pep in Carrots, Jack, so you’ll win the race,” suggested Andy.
“Carrots has got pep enough,” answered the oldest of the Rover boys. “And, anyway, what exercise he needs he’s going to get from me.”
“Oh, it’s too hot to run any more, anyway,” came from Randy. “Let’s call it off.”
“Fred, don’t touch that horse, do you hear?” cried Jack.
“Will you promise to leave me alone?” questioned his cousin through the closed door.
“Yes. Just the same, I think you ought to let us in on that secret of yours.”
“Oh, I’m holding back for your own good,” answered Fred, and then he allowed the others to pull the door open and they came into the barn.
It was a perfect midsummer day, with a bright blue sky overhead and a gentle breeze blowing from the west. One end of the big barn was already half filled with sweet-scented hay and beyond the building could be seen many acres of growing fields and orchards, all in the best condition.
It was Jack who led the way to where the horse stalls were located. Here, in a box stall, stood a small, wiry, sorrel horse with a white blaze on his forehead. The horse gave a look of recognition as Jack approached and stretched out his head in expectation of some tidbit, and Jack handed him half an apple which he munched contentedly.
“He certainly is a fine-looking animal,” was Randy’s comment, as the four boys gazed at Carrots. “You certainly ought to win that race, Jack.”
“Well, I’m going to try, anyway,” was the answer.
“Jack has got to win that race,” put in Andy. “If he doesn’t he won’t dare face Ruth again,” and he winked one eye suggestively.
“Oh, say, Andy, you leave Ruth out of this race, will you?” burst out Jack, his face growing red.
“Humph! As if we didn’t all know that Joe Sedley is going to race you solely on Ruth’s account,” went on Andy, who was the tease of the crowd.
“He’s going to race me because he thinks his Black Diamond is a better horse than Carrots,” returned Jack, “and because he thinks he can ride better than I can!”
“Just the same, Jack, he’s got his eyes on Ruth,” broke in Randy. “I guess he thinks it would be a grand thing to link the Sedley estate to the new Stevenson estate.”
“Oh, you fellows are talking nonsense!” answered their cousin, but at the same time Jack’s face took on a look of concern.
Valley Brook Farm, where the Rover boys were spending a vacation, was located in the heart of New York State and was the property of their great-uncle, Randolph Rover, after whom Randy had been named. The neighborhood for miles around was exceedingly picturesque and since a new state highway had been put through the land had been in active demand for country residences, by people of means. Below the farm a young man named Joe Sedley, who had inherited a large amount of money from his parents, had purchased an estate of two hundred acres and built himself rather pretentious bachelor’s quarters. Directly opposite and adjoining Valley Brook Farm, Mr. Stevenson, the father of Ruth, had purchased another two hundred acres and had now started to put up a large country home.
Because Ruth was so well acquainted with the Rover girls she had often stopped at Valley Brook Farm and her parents had occasionally stayed there overnight while inspecting the work done on the new place next door.
It was on one of her visits to the farm that Ruth one day met Joe Sedley. He had proved himself an agreeable young man and had invited Ruth and the other girls, as well as the boys, to visit his estate and “give it the once over,” as he expressed it. Since that time he had been exceedingly attentive to Ruth, much to Jack’s discomfiture, for ever since he had known the girl the oldest of the Rover boys had thought Ruth just the finest girl in all the world.
Although Joe Sedley owned both an enclosed car and a sport model, he also possessed several saddle horses, one of them, named Black Diamond, being his especial favorite.
“For a crosscountry racer, I’ll wager he can beat anything in this neighborhood,” Sedley had once told the Rover boys and the girls.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jack had answered rather carelessly. “A few months ago Uncle Randolph bought a fine sorrel called Carrots. And believe me, that horse can make some speed!”
“I don’t believe he could keep up with Black Diamond—not in a two-mile race, anyway,” the young man from across the highway had replied. “Your sorrel may be good enough for a half mile across the country, but after that he’ll lag behind.”
This talk had led to a spirited conversation in which not only the boys but also the girls took part. Then Randy had suggested a race, and this challenge had been quickly accepted by Sedley and as quickly agreed to by Jack, who usually rode Carrots when he was at the farm and who that morning had been rather nettled by Sedley’s constant attention to Ruth. This had been three days before, and the race was to come off on the morrow in the morning, Sedley in the meantime having to go away on business to Rochester.
“Why don’t you take Carrots out and exercise him?” said Andy.
“That’s what I intend to do,” answered Jack. “But I won’t run him too hard—just enough to make him feel active.”
Jack Ness, the old man-of-all-work around the farm, had cleaned the sorrel until Carrots fairly shone from the tip of his nose to the end of his flowing tail.
“He’s the best nag in these parts, barring none!” declared Jack Ness emphatically, as he placed the saddle on the sorrel’s back. “You sure are going to win that race, Jack.”
“I certainly hope to,” was the reply. “By the way, has the news leaked out to those living around here?”
“It certainly has, Jack,” said the hired man. “Everybody at Dexter’s Corners knows about it. Mr. Sedley was down to Woddie’s store before he left and also at the railroad station and he told everybody how he was going to put it over you. You’ll have quite a crowd to witness the run. Some folks are putting quite some wagers on it,” added the old man.
Joe Sedley, having perhaps more money than was good for him, had done his best to draw Jack and his cousins into making a bet for a large amount, but this the boys had declined.
“He could clean us out easily enough,” was the way Fred had expressed it, “while the loss of one or two thousand dollars—or even more—wouldn’t make him wink.”
“Well, I’m not in the betting business,” Jack had answered briefly. He did not add that he had promised his father not to bet on horse races of any kind.
Early the next morning Joe Sedley telephoned over asking for Ruth and then invited her and the girls to use his sporting car in following the finish of the race, which was to take place on a road ending near the two farms. The invitation rather pleased Ruth, but nevertheless she declined, stating that she had already arranged to go out with Martha and Mary.
“He’s got a crust to telephone over to Ruth!” was the way Fred expressed himself when he heard of this. “He knows well enough how matters stand between her and Jack.”
“Well, I guess he thinks it’s a case of the best man winning,” answered Randy. “And you’ve got to admit that he’s rather a nice sort, too, although I think his money is spoiling him a little.”
Of course Jack was not present at this conversation. But he, too, heard of how Sedley had telephoned, the news being conveyed to him by his sister.
“Jack, you’ve got to keep your eye on that fellow,” declared Martha. “He’s doing everything he can to get into Ruth’s good graces.”
“I know it, Martha, and it makes me mad to think of it! But what can I do to prevent it?”
“You don’t think Ruth cares for him, do you, Jack?”
“I don’t know. He’s got a barrel of money—I know that!”
“You don’t suppose Ruth would let that influence her, do you?”
“You ought to know better than I do, Martha.”
“Well, I wouldn’t if it was me!” answered the sister loyally.
It was another perfect day, and when the time for the race came several hundred people were found lining the course which led around several roads in something of a circle, starting at the lower end of the Sedley farm and finishing on a roadway between Valley Brook Farm and the new Stevenson estate.
Both of the horses, as well as their riders, looked in the best of condition as they came forward to begin the race. The course had been carefully mapped out and watchers were stationed along the route to see that no short cuts might be taken by either participant. Even old Uncle Randolph was present and likewise the old colored servitor of the Rovers, Aleck Pop.
“I done got a rabbit’s foot fur you, Massah Jack,” whispered Aleck just before the race, and brought forth the foot in question, wrapped in a handkerchief. “Dat am suah good luck fur you.”
“Thank you, Aleck. I’ll be sure to win now,” answered Jack.
But even though he spoke thus confidently, Jack realized that he had a hard contest before him. Joe Sedley was an experienced rider and Black Diamond a horse that had won more than one crosscountry contest. Jack knew he could take two of the streams which were to be crossed and also several hedges as well as any horse in that neighborhood. Carrots could jump well also, but Jack relied more on his steed’s running than anything else.
“All ready?” shouted the starter presently, and then, an instant later, came the report of a pistol and the two contestants were off.