track had backed Delhi, the other
half, following Carter's luck and his confidence in proclaiming his
convictions, had backed Beldame. Many hundred had gone so far as to bet
that the three horses he had named would finish as he had foretold. But,
in spite of Carter's tip, Delhi still was the favorite, and when the
thousands saw the Keene polka-dots leap to the front, and by two lengths
stay there, for the quarter, the half, and for the three-quarters, the
air was shattered with jubilant, triumphant yells. And then suddenly,
with the swiftness of a moving picture, in the very moment of his
victory, Beldame crept up on the favorite, drew alongside, drew ahead
passed him, and left him beaten. It was at the mile.

The night before a man had risen in a theatre and said to two thousand
people: "The favorite will lead for the mile, and give way to Beldame."
Could they have believed him, the men who now cursed themselves might
for the rest of their lives have lived upon their winnings. Those who
had followed his prophecy faithfully, superstitiously, now shrieked in
happy, riotous self-congratulation. "At the MILE!" they yelled. "He TOLD
you, at the MILE!" They turned toward Carter and shook Panama hats at
him. "Oh, you Carter!" they shrieked lovingly.

It was more than a race the crowd was watching now, it was the working
out of a promise. And when Beldame stood off Proper's rush, and Proper
fell to second, and First Mason followed three lengths in the rear, and
in that order they flashed under the wire, the yells were not that a
race had been won, but that a prophecy had been fulfilled.

Of the thousands that cheered Carter and fell upon him and indeed did
tear his clothes off his back, one of his friends alone was sufficiently
unselfish to think of what it might, mean to Carter.

"Champ!" roared his friend, pounding him on both shoulders. "You old
wizard! I win ten thousand! How much do you win?"

Carter cast a swift glance at Dolly. He said, "I win much more than
that."

And Dolly, raising her eyes to his, nodded and smiled contentedly.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man Who Could Not Lose, by
Richard Harding Davis

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