! I'd say they ought to crawl
your cupola for loose shingles!"

"And if you didn't know me at all, Frank, you'd say I was just plain
crazy, eh?" Old Man Curry regarded his young friend with thoughtful
gravity. Here were two wise men of the turf approaching truth from
widely varying standpoints, yet able to meet on common ground and
exchange convictions to mutual profit. "Spit it out, son," said Old
Man Curry. "I'd sort of like to know how crazy I am."

"Fair enough!" said the Bald-faced Kid. "Elisha's a good horse--a
cracking good horse--but to-morrow's the end of the meeting and
you've gone and saved him up to slip him into the toughest race on
the card--on a day when all the burglars at the track will be
levelling for the get-away money! You could have found a softer spot
for him to pick up a purse, and, take it from me, the winner's end is
about all you'll get around here. The bookmakers lost a lot of
confidence in human nature when you pulled that horsehair stunt on
'em, and they wouldn't give you a price now, not even if you started
a nice motherly old cow against stake horses. As for Elisha--the
bookies begin reaching for the erasers the minute they hear his
name! You couldn't bet 'em diamonds against doughnuts on that horse.
They've been stung too often."

"Maybe I wasn't aiming to bet on him," was the mild reply.

"Then why put him up against such a hard game?"

"Oh, it was a kind of a notion I had. I know it'll be a tough race.
Engle is in there, and O'Connor and a lot more that have been under
cover. 'Lisha is goin' a mile this morning. Better catch him when he
breaks. He's off!"

Whatever Jockey Moseby Jones thought of his orders, he knew better
than to disobey them. He sent Elisha the distance, driving him hard
from the half-mile pole to the wire, and the Bald-faced Kid's
astounded comments furnished a profane obbligato.

"Take a look at that!" said he, thrusting the watch under Old Man
Curry's nose. "Pretty close to the track record for a mile, ain't it?
And every clocker on the track got him too! If I was you I'd peel the
hide off that nigger for showing a horse up like that!"

"No-o," said Old Man Curry, "I reckon I won't lick Mose--this time.
You forgot that Jeremiah is goin' in the last race to-morrow, didn't
you?"

"Jeremiah!" The Bald-faced Kid spoke with scorn. "Why, he bleeds
every time out! It's a shame to start him!"

"Maybe he won't bleed to-morrow, Frank."

"He won't, eh?" The Bal