its expression, but delicate enough in its motive, he reasoned
that his knowledge might make her uncomfortable.

"I see that fly-by-night divil Shandy talkin' to ye as I come in. What
new mischief is he up to now?"

"He wants me to pull Lauzanne."

"He ain't got no gall, has he? That come from headquarters; it's Langdon
put him up to that."

"He was talkin' to me, too."

"I t'ought he would be. But he didn't know ye, Miss Allis--"

Heavens! It was out. Mike's sun-tanned face turned brick-red; he
could have bitten off his unruly Irish tongue. The girl stared at him
helplessly, her cheeks, that were scarlet, tingling under the hot rush
of blood.

"There ye are, an' believe me, I didn't mean it. I was goin' to keep me
mouth shut, but I never could do that."

"You knew then, yesterday?"

"Indade I didn't, an' that's a good sign to ye nobody'll know. But whin
I t'ought wit' meself I knowed that Alan couldn't ride Lauzanne the way
ye did; an' ye didn't deny ye was him, an' if ye wasn't him ye must be
yerself, see?" which more or less lucid explanation seemed to relieve
Mike's mind mightily. "I think ye're Jes doin' roight, Miss--Al, I mean;
I must get used to that name; s'help me, I believe ye'll win on the
Chestnut--that gallop was good enough."

"Do you think I can do it, Mike, among all those jockeys?"

"Sure thing, ye can, A--Al, me b'y; he won't need no ridin' in yer
hands; all ye'll have to do is sit still an' keep him straight.
He'll win the race in the stretch, an' there won't be many there to
bother--they'll all be beat off. Now, it's a good thing that I do know
about this, for I'll just kape close to ye an' kape any wan that's
likely to spot ye away, if I have to knock him down."

Mike had worked himself up to a fine frenzy of projected endeavor; he
cast about for further services he could render his admired mistress.

"An' ye know Carson the starter; he's jes the loveliest Irishman; there
isn't a b'y on earth could git an inch the best av it from him on a
start, not if they was to give him gold enough to weigh a horse down.
But I'll jes' tip him the wink that ye'r a gurl, and--"

"Mike, what are you saying? Do you mean to ruin everything?"

The rosy hue of eager joyousness that had crept into Gaynor's suntanned
face vanished; his jaw drooped, and a pathetic look of sheepish apology
followed.

"That's so," he ejaculated, mournfully; "bot' tumbs up! but it's a pity.
Carson's an Irish gintleman, an