t more money than was involved in his
present venture and stood it stoically; but never before had his need
been so great, and he had reason to know that necessity and luck have
at best little more than a speaking acquaintance. Exultantly,
therefore, he skipped down the stairs into the betting-ring. "You can
't keep a squirrel on the ground," he chuckled. "They 've got to stop
printing money when I ain't got some." The next minute he was in line
behind the stand where he had made his purchase, tightly grasping the
ticket which was to give him back his gold-piece and four hundred
dollars.

Four hundred dollars! It was a snug little sum. The gold-piece had
proved a mascot after all. Now, he would "get out" his overcoat and
purchase some other necessary articles. He decided to pay off his
landlady and find some more inviting quarters. But the pleasantest
thought of all was that now he could write to Pert. The delight he
found in this reflection could only have been surpassed by the joy of
seeing her in person. He did not know what he should say; but he knew
that with this load off his heart, and with the return to self-respect
which this success had brought him, he would be able to write a letter
which would encourage and cheer her--it should be his first task. He
longed to be at it, and he began to chafe at what seemed an unusual
delay in announcing "the official."

Turning, he glanced toward the judge's stand. There was a surging,
interested crowd around it. A presentiment of sudden misfortune came
over him. Almost at the same moment the air was rent by joyous yells
from hundreds of throats.

The crowd turned about, and with one accord made a rush for the
betting-ring.

In the van was Checkers' surly acquaintance--surly no longer, but
radiant with a smile which extended from ear to ear. Checkers broke
from the line, and grabbed him by the arm. "What 's up?" he exclaimed.
"What's the yelling about?"

"All bets off," was the glad rejoinder; "the favorite was 'pulled.'
The judges are onto a job in the race. It was 'fixed' for Remorse. We
all get our money back. Let go--I 'm in a hurry."

Checkers stood as though paralyzed from an actual blow. His eyes were
fixed and his lips were colorless. "By the bald-headed, knock-kneed
Jove!" he exclaimed, suddenly rousing himself with a vehement gesture;
"if my luck ain't--" But he felt it impossible to do the occasion
justice.

With a set face and a he