, but the Kid edged away. "I
wouldn't have thought it of you, old-timer," said he.

"Frank," said the old man gently, "you don't understand. You don't
know what I was figgerin' on."

"I know this," retorted the Kid: "if it hadn't been for you, I
wouldn't have to go to Butte alone!"

"You've told her, then?"

"Last night."

"And I was right about the forgivin' business, son?"

"Didn't I say she was going to Butte with me? We had it all fixed to
get married, but now----"

"Well, I don't see no reason for callin' it off." Old Man Curry's
cheerfulness had returned, and as he spoke he drew out his
old-fashioned leather wallet. "You know what I told you 'bout bad
money, son--tainted money? You wouldn't take my word for it that
gamblers' money brings bad luck; I just nachelly had to fix up some
scheme on you so that you wouldn't have no bad money to start out
with." He opened the wallet and extracted a check upon which the ink
was scarcely dry--the check of the Racing Association for the
winner's portion of the stake just decided. "I wouldn't want you to
have bad luck, son," the old man continued. "I wanted you to have
good luck--and a clean start. Here's some money that it wouldn't hurt
anybody to handle--an honest hoss went out and run for it and earned
it, an' he was runnin' for you every step of the way! Here, take it."
He thrust the check into the boy's hand--and let it stand to his
credit that he answered before looking at it.

"I--I had you wrong, old-timer," he stammered: "wrong from the start.
I--I can't take this. I ain't a pauper, and I--I----"

"Why of course you can take it, son," urged the old man. "You said
this game owed you a stake, and maybe it does, but the only money you
can afford to start out with is clean money, and the only clean money
on a race track is the money that an honest hoss can go out and run
for--and win. No, I can't take it back; it's indorsed over to you."

Then, and not before, did the Kid look at the figures on the check.

"Why," he gasped, "this--this is for twenty-four hundred and
something! I don't _need_ that much! I--we--_she_ says three hundred
would be plenty! I----"

"That's all right," interrupted Old Man Curry. "Money--clean
money--never comes amiss. You can call the three hundred the stake
that was owin' to you; the rest, well, I reckon that's just my
weddin' present. Good-bye, son, and good luck!"

A MORNING WORKOUT

"Well, boss, they sutny done it t