n, and plunged in
affright.

"You'll get enough of that to-morror," sneered the boy. "I hope you and
Ned both break your damn necks. Fer two cents I'd drop somethin' in your
feed-box that'd settle you right now; but it's the skunk as split on me
I want to get even with."

Shandy trudged back to where he nested in Brookfield and soon slept with
calm restfulness, as though no evil had ever homed in his heart. In the
first gray of the early morning he rose and went out to the race course.

XV

The course near Ringwood had formerly been a trotting track, and
was still used at irregular intervals for the harness horses. In its
primitive days a small, square, box-like structure had done duty as
a Judges' Stand. With other improvements a larger structure had been
erected a hundred yards higher up the stretch.

It was to the little old stand that Shandy took his way. Inside he
waited for the coming of Gaynor's string of gallopers as supremely happy
in his unrighteous work as any evil-minded boy might be at the prospect
of unlimited mischief.

"Ned'll ride Diablo, sure; there's nothin' else to it," he muttered.
"I hope he breaks his blasted neck. I'll pay 'em out fer turnin' me off
like a dog," he continued, savagely, the small ferret eyes blazing
with fury. "I'll learn the damn--Hello!" His sharp ears had caught the
muffled sound of hoofs thudding the turf in a slow, measured walk. He
peeped between the boards.

"Yes, it's Mike. And the girl, too--blast her! She blamed me fer near
bein' eat alive by that black devil of a dope horse. Hell!"

This ambiguous exclamation was occasioned by the sight of his former
master springing into the saddle on Diablo's back.

"That's the game, eh? God strike me dead! I hope you git enough of
him. My arms ache yet from bein' near pulled out of the sockets by that
leather-mouthed brute. Gee, if the boss hasn't got spurs on! If he ever
tickles the Black wit' 'em--say, boys, there'll be a merry hell to pay,
and no pitch hot."

The young Arab spoke to the boards as though they were partners in his
iniquity. Then he chuckled diabolically, as in fancy he saw Porter being
trampled by the horse.

"The girl's on Lauzanne," he muttered; "she's the best in the lot, if
she did run me down. A ridin' that sorrel mut, too, when she ought to be
in the house washin' dishes. A woman ain't got no more business hangin'
'round the stable than a man's got in the kitchen. Petticoats is the
devil