I like game horses,
and men, too--that'll take the gaff and try."

"I don't know as the owner'd sell him."

"Do you remember the buying of Silver Foot, Langdon?"

"Yes."

"He was a good horse."

"The best handicap horse in the country, an' he was sold for a
song--seven thousand."

"Less than that, the first time," corrected Crane.

"Yes, they stole him from old Walters; made him believe the horse was no
good."

"Just so," commented Crane; "I've heard that story," and his smooth,
putty-like face remained blank and devoid of all meaning, as his eyes
peered vacantly over their lower lids at the Trainer.

Langdon waited for the other to continue, but the Banker seemed wrapped
up in a retrospect of the Silver Foot deal.

"I know Billy Smith, that trains The Dutchman," hazarded Langdon; "he's
a boozer."

"I'm glad of that--I mean, that you know Smith," declared Crane. "I
happen to know the owner--his name is Baker. His racing is what might be
called indiscriminate, and like men of that class he sometimes blunders
upon a good horse without knowing it; and I doubt very much but that if
he knew all about the other race--how bad Lauzanne really is; how the
mare, Lucretia--well--got shut off, and couldn't get through her horses,
say--of course his own trainer, Smith, would have to tell these things,
you understand. In fact, if he knew the exact truth, he might take a
reasonable offer for The Dutchman."

Langdon nodded approvingly. He loved his subtle master; cards up his
sleeves tingled his nerves, and loaded dice were a joy for evermore.

Crane proceeded to unwind the silken cord. "Naturally Smith would hate
to lose a fair horse out of his stable, and would, perhaps, attempt to
thwart any deal; so I think you might remunerate him for his loss."

"When Silver Foot was sold, they gave him a bad trial before the sale--"

"I'm not interested in Silver Foot," interrupted Crane; "and I shouldn't
like to have anything--well, I don't want my name associated with
anything shady, you understand, Langdon? You are to buy The Dutchman as
cheap as you can, and run him as your own horse in the Eclipse. I
think Porter's mare will win it, so we needn't lose anything over The
Dutchman."

Langdon started. With all his racing finesse he was a babe. The smooth,
complacent-faced man in front of him made him realize this.

"But," he gasped, "there was a row over Lauzanne's race. If The Dutchman
runs in my name, an' a lot o' mugs