"Now, my beauty, they'll have to gallop," Porter was saying. They were
close up, and Crane could see that Lucretia had got to the bay colt's
head, and he was dying away. He smiled cynically as he watched Westley
go to the whip on The Dutchman, with Lucretia half a length in the lead.
Most certainly Langdon was an excellent trainer; The Dutchman was just
good enough to last into second place, and Lucretia had won handily.
What a win Crane had had!

A little smothered gasp distracted his momentary thought of success,
and, turning quickly, he saw tears in a pair of gray eyes that were set
in a smiling face.

"Like a babe on his neck I was sobbing," came back to Crane out of the
poem Allis had recited.

"I congratulate you, Miss Porter," he said, raising his hat. Then he
turned, and held out his hand to her father, saying: "I'm glad you've
won, Porter--I thought you would. The Dutchman quit when he was
pinched."

"It wasn't the colt's fault--he was short," said Porter. "I shouldn't
like to have horses in that man's stable--he's too good a trainer for
me."

There was a marked emphasis on Porter's words; he was trying to give
Crane a friendly hint.

"You mean it's a case of strawberries?" questioned Crane.

"Well I know it takes a lot of candles to find a lost quarter," remarked
Porter, somewhat ambiguously. Then he added, "I must go down to thank
Dixon; I guess this is his annual day for smiling."

"I'm coming, too, father," said Allis; "I want to thank Lucretia, and
give her a kiss, brave little sweetheart."

After Allis and her father had left Crane, he sat for a minute or two
waiting for the crowd of people that blocked the passageway after each
race to filter down on the lawn. The way seemed clearer presently,
and Crane fell in behind a knot of loud-talking men. The two of large
proportions who had sat behind Allis, were like huge gate posts jammed
there in the narrow way. As he moved along slowly he presently had
knowledge of a presence at his side--a familiar presence. Raising his
eyes from a contemplation of the heels in front of him, he saw Belle
Langdon. She nodded with patronizing freedom.

"I lost you," she said.

"I was sitting with some friends here," he explained.

"Yes, I saw her," she commented pointedly.

At that instant one of the stout men in front said, with a bear's snarl,
"Well that's the worst ever; I've seen some jobs in my time, but this
puts it over anything yet."

"Didn't you