n
before he spoke again.

"Well, you see, son, it's this way about cutting a melon. You want to
be sure it ain't green ... or rotten."

"Huh?"

Old Man Curry placed his hand on the Kid's shoulder.

"My boy," said he, kindly, "you make a living by--by sort of advising
folks what to bet on, don't you? If they're kind of halting between
two opinions, as the Book says, you sort of--help 'em out, eh!"

The Bald-faced Kid grinned broadly.

"I guess that's about the size of it," said he.

"Well, if you've got any reg'lar customers, don't invite 'em to have
a slice of Engle's melon next Tuesday. It might disagree with 'em."

"But I don't see how you're going to get away from Elisha! He's fit
and ready and right on edge. You can throw out his last three races.
He's good enough to win without any framing."

"I know he is, son. Didn't I train him? Now you've told me something
that I've been trying to find out, and I've told you something you
never could find out. Don't ask me any more.... No use talking,
Frank, Solomon was a great man. Some time I hope to have a race hoss
fit to be named after him. I've never seen one yet."

"Where does Solomon get in on this proposition?" demanded the youth.

Old Man Curry chuckled.

"You don't read him," he said. "Solomon wrote a lot of advice that
hossmen can use. For instance: 'A prudent man foreseeth the evil and
hideth himself, but the simple pass on and are punished.' I've told
you this Engle melon ain't as ripe as they think it is. You be
prudent and don't ask me how I know."

"If the frame-up goes wrong, what'll win?" asked the Kid.

"Well," said the old man, "my hoss Elijah's in that same race, but
it's a little far for him. I ain't going to bet anything. Sometimes
it comes handy to know these things."

"You spoke an armful then!" said the Kid. "Well, I've got to be
going. I'll keep this under my hat."

"So do, son," said Old Man Curry. "So do. Good night."

The Bald-faced Kid reflected aloud as he departed.

"And some people think that old fellow don't know the right way of
the track!" he murmured. "Gee! I'd give something to be in with what
he's got up his sleeve!"

Old Man Curry was still tramping up and down when little Mose
returned from his nightly foray upon the crap games of the
neighbourhood. The boy approached silently and with lagging gait,
sure signs that fortune had not been kind to him. When the dice
behaved well it was his habit to return with song