tip dat dere was a killin' on, an' I axed Dick
Langdon if dere was anyt'ing doin'; an' Dick says to me, says he,
puttin' hot' t'umbs up"--and Mike held both hands out horizontally with
the thumbs stiff and vertical to illustrate this form of oath--"'there's
nottin' doin', Mike,' says he. What d'ye t'ink of that, sir, an' me
knowin' there was?" asked Mike, tragically.

"It's the biggest tip that always falls down, Gaynor; and they've got to
be pretty swift to beat Lucretia."

"That filly's all right; she's worked out well enough to do up that
field of stiffs. I ain't no rail bird, but I've hed me eye on her. But I
ain't doin' no stunt about horses, Mister Porter; I'm talkin' about men.
Th' filly's honest, and ye'r honest sir, but ye don't roide th' mare
yerself, do ye?"

"You think, Mike--" began Mr. Porter, questioningly; but Gaynor
interrupted him with: "I don't think nothin', sir, an' I ain't sayin'
nothin. I ain't never been before the Stewards yet for crooked work, or
crooked talk; but there's a boy ridin' in dat bunch to-day w'at got six
hundred for t'rowing me down once, see? S'elp me God! he pulled Blue
Smoke to a standstill on me, knowin' that it would break me. That was at
Coney Island, two years ago."

"And you don't remember his name, I suppose, Mike?"

"I don't remember not'in' but that I got it in th' neck. But ye keep yer
eye open, sir. Ye t'ink that none of the b'ys would t'row ye down cause
ye've been good to 'em; but some of 'em are that mean they'd steal th'
sugar from a fly. I know 'em. I hears 'em talk, cause they don't mind
me--t'ink I'm one of th' gang."

"Thank you very much, Gaynor; I appreciate your kindly warning; but I
hope you're mistaken, all the same," said Porter. Then he proceeded on
his way toward stall five, in which was Lauzanne.

"How are you, Mr. Porter?"

It was Philip Crane, standing just outside of the stall, who thus
addressed him. "Got something running today?" he continued, with vague
innocence.

Langdon, just inside the box, chuckled softly. Surely Crane was a past
master in duplicity.

"I'm starting Lucretia in this race," replied Honest John.

"Oh!" Then Crane took Porter gently by the sleeve and drew him half
within the stall. "Mr. Langdon, who trains a horse or two for me,
says this one'll win;" and he indicated the big chestnut colt that the
Trainer was binding tight to a light racing saddle. "You'd better have a
bit on, Mr. Porter," Crane added.

"Lucret