just a friendly
visit to Langdon.

As far as Crane was concerned, the Trainer and the Bookmaker were like
two burglars suddenly coming upon each other while robbing the same
house; they were somewhat in a condition of armed neutrality, toward
each other.

Faust hoped that Langdon would talk about Diablo; but the Trainer was
like most of his guild generally, a close-mouthed man, so Jakey had to
make his own running.

"What's the boss goin' to do with Diablo?" he asked Langdon.

"Must 've bought him for a work horse, I guess," the Trainer answered.

"Is he any good?"

"He can eat; that's all I see from him yet."

"What did he buy him for?"

"To help a snoozer that was sittin' in bad luck."

Faust had an odd habit of causing his fat sides to ripple like troubled
water when he wished to convey the impression that he was amused; he
never laughed, just the rib ripple.

"What's funny?" Langdon asked, eying Jakey, with querulous disfavor.

"Crane buying a horse to help a man," answered the Cherub, wondering if
Langdon was so devoid of humor as to take it seriously.

"Crane told me so himself," said the Trainer; "Porter's hurt, an' I
guess they're in a hole, an' the boss took over Diablo."

"Say, Dick," and Faust edged close enough to tap the other man's ribs
with his thumb, "were you born yesterday? I say," continued the Cherub,
for Langdon had turned away somewhat impatiently, "what's the good av
givin' me that gup; you didn't stand for it yourself--not on yer life.
Th' old man's pretty slick; buys a bad horse to help a poor mutt, an'
enters him in the Brooklyn, eh?"

"The Brooklyn!" exclaimed Langdon, thrown off his guard.

With corpulent intensity the Cherub melodramatically drew from his
pocket the Telegraph clipping and tendered it to Langdon, watching the
latter's face closely. "That's the pea, Dick, eh?" he asked.

Langdon was thinking. Was Crane doubling on him all around? Why the
devil hadn't he told him?

"Now you ain't takin' in that fairy tale of Crane's any more'n I am,
Dick. Why can't we do a bit for ourselves over this; it won't hurt the
boss none. Won't throw him down. This horse was a good youngster, an'
Crane didn't get him without seein' him do somethin'. You jest keep me
posted, an' if he shapes good I can back 'm fer an old-time killin',
see? I'll divvy up straight."

Langdon didn't answer at once--not with satisfaction to Faust; he knew
that Crane held the butter for his bread, even