ew boy, I'm tryin'," Dixon explained to Gaynor, after he lifted
a little lad to Lauzanne's back at the paddock gate, and they stood
watching the big Chestnut swing along with his usual sluggish stride.

"He's got good hands," said Mike, critically, "though he seems a bit
awkward in the saddle. Ye couldn't have a better trial horse fer a new
b'y. If Lauzanne's satisfied with him he can roide onythin'."

When Allis, who was now Al Mayne, the boy, came around and back to the
paddock, she slipped quietly from the horse, loitered carelessly about
for a few minutes, and then made her way back to Dixon's quarters.
Nobody had paid any attention to the modest little boy. Riding lads were
as plentiful as sparrows; one more or less called for no comment, no
investigation. Even Mike lost interest in the new boy in wondering why
Miss Allis had not made her usual appearance.

"How did the horse like it?" Dixon asked of the girl when he returned
home.

"Oh, he knew. I whispered in his ear as we cantered along, and he'll be
all right--he'll keep my secret."

"Well, I think he's due for a pipe opener to-morrow. It's just three
days till the Derby, an' we've got to give him a strong workout.
Besides, it'll put you next what you've got to do in the race. To-morrow
mornin' you had better canter him just slow around once, an' then send
him a full mile-an'-aquarter as though there was money hung up for it.
I'll catch his time, an' we'll get wise to what he can do."

This programme was carried out; and as Dixon looked thrice at his watch
after the gallop to make sure that he was not mistaken in the time,
2:11, he began to wonder if, after all, the girl was not nearly right
in her prophetic hope that the despised Lauzanne would win the Brooklyn
Derby.

"He can move; he surprised me," the Trainer said to Allis as she
dismounted. "He's not blown, either; he's as fresh as a daisy. Gad!
we'll do those blackguards up yet, I believe."

The gallop had attracted Mike's attention also. As Allis moved away
he called after her, "I say, b'y, hould on a minute. What's yer name,
ennyway?"

"Al," answered the small voice.

"Well, by me faith, ye didn't put up no bad roide. Ye handled that horse
foine. Don't run away, lad," he added, hurrying after the retreating
Allis.

Before she could escape him, he had her by the arm, and turned about
face to face. Even then he didn't recognize her, for Allis had taken a
most subtle precaution in her make-up