cross the youth's shoulders. "How's the wife, Frank?"

"Just bully! She would have been here with me, but she couldn't leave
the kid: couldn't leave Curry----"

The patriarch of the Jungle Circuit reached hastily for his fine-cut.

"It--it was a boy, then?" he asked.

The Bald-faced Kid grinned.

"Better than that; it was a girl! We had the name picked out in
advance. The wife wouldn't have it any other way."

Old Man Curry shook his head solemnly. "Frank," said he, "you know
that ain't treat-in' a little girl right! Curry! It sounds like the
stuff you eat with rice! When she gits old enough to know she'll hate
it, and me, too."

"Any kid of mine is going to _love_ the name of Curry, and call you
grandpa! What do you think of that? You don't need to worry, and I
won't even argue the point with you. My wife says----"

"Anything your wife says is right," interrupted the old man, blowing
his nose lustily. "Why, it kind of seems as if I had some folks----"

"If you don't think you've got a ready-made family," said the Kid,
"come over to Butte any time and I'll win a bet from you. But I can
tell you about that later. What I want to know is this: I met a
couple of hustlers here to-day--boys I used to team with--and they
told me Pharaoh didn't have a chance because he went right from the
box car to the paddock. He gets off the train, where he's been for
five days and nights, and comes so close to the American record that
there ain't any fun in it. Now, you know that can't be done.
Old-timer, you pulled many a miracle on me before I quit the turf;
give me an inside on this one!"

Old Man Curry smiled benignantly.

"Well, son, mebbe I kind of took advantage of 'em there."

"It wouldn't be the first time, dad. Let's have it."

"All right. To start with, I bought this hoss for little or nothing.
Mostly nothing. I knew he was a freak. He couldn't begin to untrack
himself till he had gone a mile, but after that it seemed like every
mile he went he got better. I held a watch on him an' he ran four
miles close enough to the record to show me that he had a chance in
the Thornton Stakes. Five weeks ago I shipped him out to Port Costa
an' took him off the train there----"

"Holy Moses!" breathed the Kid. "I begin to get it, but go on!"

"I knew a man there an' he let me train Pharaoh at his place, Little
Mose givin' him a gallop every day. That Benicia road is as good as
any race track. Then I did some close figgerin' o