es the wisdom of age. The boys made it a point to humor him
without taking him seriously. Honey pampered him and called him Poppy,
while in Marian's chill courtesy, in her averted glances, Bud had read
her dislike of Pop. He had seen her hand shrink away from contact with
his hand when she set his coffee beside his plate.

But Bud had heard others speak respectfully of Boise, and regret that
he was too fast to run. Pop might be childish on some subjects, but
Bud rather banked on his judgment of horses--and Pop was penurious and
anxious to win money.

"What are you thinking about?" Honey demanded when the music stopped.
"Something awful important, I guess, to make you want to keep right on
dancing!"

"I was thinking of horse-racing," Bud confessed, glad that he could tell
her the truth.

"Ah, you! Don't let them make a fool of you. Some of the fellows would
bet the shirt off their backs on a horse-race! You look out for them,
Bud."

"They wouldn't bet any more than I would," Bud boldly declared. "I've
bet already against a horse I've never seen. How 's that?"

"That's crazy. You'll lose, and serve you right." She went off to dance
with someone else, and Bud turned smiling to find a passable partner
amongst the older women--for he was inclined to caution where strange
girls were concerned. Much trouble could come to a stranger who danced
with a girl who happened to have a jealous sweetheart, and Bud did
not court trouble of that kind. He much preferred to fight over other
things. Besides, he had no wish to antagonize Honey.

But his dance with some faded, heavy-footed woman was not to be. Jerry
once more signalled him and drew him outside for a little private
conference. Jerry was ill at ease and inclined to be reproachful and
even condemnatory.

He wanted first to know why Bud had been such a many kinds of a fool as
to make that bet with Jeff Hall. All the fellows were talking about it.
"They was asking me what kind of a horse you've got--and I wouldn't put
it past Jeff and his bunch to pull some kind of a dirty trick on you,"
he complained. "Bud, on the square, I like you a whole lot. You seem
kinda innocent, in some ways, and in other ways you don't. I wish you'd
tell me just one thing, so I can sleep comfortable. Have you got some
scheme of your own? Or what the devil ails you?"

"Well, I've just got a notion," Bud admitted. "I'm going to have some
fun watching those fellows perform, whether I win or lose.