Eyes narrowing, vibrant with quick suspicion, Dorgan took the horse's
head on his shoulder and leaned his ear to the nostrils, listening
intently. Suddenly he swore, a single, tremendous expletive, deep with
venom, turning on Rennie.

"Did you go to see that fight you was speakin' of?"

"Sure. But I wasn't away five minutes."

"Was the horse uneasy before that?"

"I didn't notice it till I come back," Rennie admitted, and Dorgan swore
again.

"They got to us somehow. Wait now. Hold still, Chief. So--o, lad! Quiet,
boy!" Gently he laid his face against the muzzle. "By----, it's
sponges!" he exclaimed suddenly.

"Sponges?" Angus repeated, puzzled.

"Sure--sponges! One of the bloody, dirtiest, meanest, surest-fire tricks
in the whole box. A little, soft sponge shot up each nostril. A horse
can't blow 'em out. He can breathe all right when he's quiet, but when
he starts to run he can't get wind enough through 'em to feed his lungs,
and they choke him off. It don't take a minute to work the trick on a
quiet horse. It can be put over five minutes or a day before a race. A
rider can do his best and get no speed. A crooked owner can fix his own
horse and tell his boy to ride to win. That's what somebody's put over
on us, and I'll gamble on it. Dave, fetch me my little black bag."

The bag contained a kit of veterinary instruments, and from them Dorgan
selected a pair of long, slender forceps. But Chief objected and had to
be thrown. Angus sat on his head while Dorgan worked. In the end he got
the sponges, and Chief released, struggled up snorting, but apparently
relieved and glad to be able to fill his lungs full once more.

"And a devil of a note a night before a race!" Dorgan commented. "Some
horses it would put clean up in the air. But I'll bet Chief will fix
this French bunch now, in spite of their dirty work."

"What makes you think they did it?"

"Ain't they givin' even money against the field? That means they think
they got us fixed. That big stiff that tried to beat me up to-night
would have fixed me if he could. They framed that fight to get Dave away
from here. Well, there's no use makin' a roar, because we got nothin' on
them. We're lucky to get wise." He nodded to Chetwood. "I dunno's we
would if it hadn't been for you. I didn't think you knew a thing about
the game, but I guess you do."

"Even if I am a pilgrim?" Chetwood laughed. "But you know we have
horses and a few races in England."

"The smo