sure
reached out and grabbed some adversity in that third race to-day,
what? I had a finnif bet on friend Isaiah--my own money, too; that's
how good I thought he was. They pretty near bumped the shoes off him
in the back stretch and they had him in a pocket all the way to the
paddock gate, and even so, he was only beat about the length of your
nose. Adversity is right!" Old Man Curry nodded. "Say," said the Kid,
lowering his voice, "I just wanted to tell you that next Tuesday the
Engle bunch will be levelling with Elisha."

Curry paused in his stride and eyed the youth intently.

"Who told you?" said he.

"Never you mind," said the Kid, airily. "I'm a kind of a private
information bureau and detective agency 'round this track, and my
hours are from twelve to twelve, twice a day. I shake hands with the
night watchman when he comes on duty and I'm here to give the
milkman the high sign in the morning. They tell me things they've
seen and heard. I've got a drag with the bartenders and the waiters
in the track cafe and the telegraph operator is my pal.

"Now Engle has had Elisha for two weeks. He's started him three times
and Elisha hasn't been in the money once. People are saying that when
Engle bought the horse he didn't buy the prescription that goes with
him.... Don't interrupt me; everybody knows you never had a hop horse
in your barn.... It's my notion that Elisha can win any time they get
ready to cut him loose for the kopecs. Engle has been cheating with
him to get a price and using the change of owners for an alibi.
They'll get their price the next time out and clean up a barrel of
money. You can gamble on this tip. It's straight as gospel."

"That's pretty straight, son." Old Man Curry squared his shoulders
and looked over the Kid's head toward the track, where the empty
grand stand loomed dark against the evening sky. "Next Tuesday!" said
he. "Just about what I thought ... but tell me, son, why did you
bring this to me?"

The Bald-faced Kid laughed harshly.

"Well, maybe it's because you're the only man 'round here that calls
me Frank--it's my name and I like to hear it once in a while. Maybe
it's because you staked me once when I was broke and didn't take my
right eye for security. Maybe it's because I figure we can both get
something out of it for ourselves. If Engle is going to cut a melon,
we might as well have a knife in it too."

"Ah!" said Old Man Curry, and he paced the entire length of the bar