ch; then Garrison will cut him loose,
and beat 'em all in a grand-stand finish. Those dogs in front can't
hold that pace; they 'll throw up their tails and quit at a mile;" and
Checkers puffed the cigarette between his yellow, smoke-stained
fingers, with a look of placid unconcern which I myself was far from
feeling.

Suddenly he jumped to his feet with an exclamation of surprise. Grady
had suddenly gone to the front as though the others were standing
still, and it looked as though his jockey, Garrison, intended to make
it a runaway race. At the mile he led by a length and a half, and it
seemed to me he would surely win.

The crowds in their intense excitement bustled and buzzed like so many
bees. Cries of "Grady!" filled the air, and thousands yelled in
frenzied glee. I confess I lost my self-control and whooped as loudly
as any one.

"D 'ye see," said Checkers, "that's what it is to have reliable
information. Talk about Domino's winning, why, he can't beat a fat man
up a hill;" and he cast a pitying glance at Murray, and climbed on his
seat for a better view.

Across the level stretch of greensward the horses looked almost like
playthings. Up the back stretch on they went, with Grady now a length
in front. The others were rapidly closing up, and the final struggle
was soon to begin. At the further turn it seemed to me they slackened
up for a breathing spell; but on they came again faster and faster,
with Grady but half a length in front.

The noisy chatter suddenly ceased and an interested silence fell upon
all. My heart was beating a wild tattoo. I felt as though I were
burning up.

Murray was wholly occupied in helping Domino along, by calling his name
in a low, quick voice, and energetically snapping his fingers (a
process commonly known as "pulling," and thought by the cult to be
efficacious).

I glanced at Checkers. Disappointment was clearly written across his
face.

"We 're up against it," he said despondently. "Garrison 's give us the
double-cross. He had no business settin' the pace. There 's some one
going after him now. Go on, you Grady! Wiggle yourself! They 've
collared him! They 're passing him!" And sure enough some
fleet-limbed bay was drawing ahead of our beautiful brown in a way that
left us little hope of ever getting in front again.

Around the turn and into the stretch, nearer they raced in a cloud of
dust. The leader was gaining at every jump, but Grady hung to s