is surroundings, but he saw Pitkin
as soon as that fox-faced gentleman entered the paddock, and
thereafter he watched the disciple of the double-cross closely. It
was plain that Pitkin's visit had no business significance; he was
not the sort of man to play a maiden race, and after a few bantering
remarks addressed to old Gabe he drifted back into the betting ring,
where he made a casual note of the fact that on most of the slates
General Duval was quoted at 40 to 1.

"Anybody betting on the nigger's skate?" asked Pitkin of a black man
whom he knew.

"Not a soul," was the reply. "What does the old fool start him for?"

"Because that's what he is--an old fool," answered Pitkin briefly as
he moved away.

When the first bookmaker chalked up 50 to 1 on the General, a bulky,
flat-footed negro, dressed in a screaming plaid suit with an ancient
straw hat tilted sportively over one eye, fished a wrinkled
two-dollar bill out of his vest pocket, and bet it on Gabriel
Johnson's horse. "You like that one, do you?" grinned the bookmaker.

"No, suh, not 'specially," chuckled the negro, "but I sutny likes
that long price!"

Soon there was more 50 to 1 in sight, and the flat-footed negro began
to shuffle about the betting-ring, bringing to light other wrinkled
two-dollar bills. The bookmakers were glad to take in a few dollars
on General Duval, if for no other reason than to round out their
sheets. The flat-footed negro continued to bet until he arrived at
the bottom of his vest pocket, and then he began to draw upon a fund
concealed in the fob pocket of his trousers. When the first bugle
call sounded he was betting from the right hip--and never more than
two dollars at a time.

Jockey Moseby Jones, gorgeous as a tropical butterfly in the cherry
jacket with green sleeves and the red, white and blue cap, pranced
into General Duval's paddock stall and listened intently as old Gabe
bent over him.

"Yo' ain't fo'got whut we tole yo' last night, son?" asked Gabe in
anxious tones.

"Ain't fo'got nuthin'," was the sober answer.

"'Cause eve'ything 'pend on how it _look_."

"Uh huh," replied little Mose. "I make it _look_ all right."

"This hoss, he might take a notion to run off an' leave 'em soon as
the barrier go up," cautioned Gabe. "Keep him folded up in yo' lap to
the las' minute."

"An' then set him down," supplemented Mose. "Yo' jus' be watchin' me,
thass all!"

"Lot of folks'll be watchin' yo'," warned Gabe. "Them