" Crane answered, looking dreamily out of
the window. "I bought him to--"

He paused in reflection; he couldn't tell Langdon why he had bought him,
and he hardly cared to have his prestige with the Trainer destroyed. He
continued, shifting the subject--matter a trifle, "You did John Porter
up over Lauzanne last summer, Langdon--"

"Me?" questioned 'the Trainer. Was Crane forgetting his share in the
matter?

"Yes, you!" affirmed the other, looking him steadily in the eye. "You
sold him Lauzanne, and Lauzanne was loaded."

Langdon said nothing. What the devil was coming?

"Well," drawled Crane, "Porter's badly hurt; he's out of the race for
some time to come. They're friends of mine."

"They're friends," mused Langdon; "who in thunder are they?"

"They're friends of mine, and I offered to buy Lauzanne back, just to
help them out; but the old man's daughter has got the Chestnut for a
hack, and she won't sell him. It was Diablo's fault that Porter got the
fall, so they were willing to part with him, and I took the brute."

This was certainly a new role for Crane to play, Langdon thought;
his employer helping people out when they were in difficulties was
a revelation. The Trainer felt inclined to laugh. No doubt there was
something back of it all; some tout must have given Crane information
of a fast gallop Diablo had done, and he had gone to Ringwood to buy the
horse, thinking that Porter would be selling some of his racers owing to
the accident.

Langdon tried to remember what Shandy had said about Diablo, or whether
the boy had mentioned his name at all.

"I wonder what condition he's in?" the Trainer remarked, questioningly.

"Physically I think he's all right; it seems he galloped something under
forty miles with Porter before he came a cropper. But I understand they
had an imp of a boy, Sheedy, or 'Shaney'--"

"Shandy," corrected Langdon.

"Yes, that's the name," affirmed Crane, drawing a semicircle in the air
with his cigar, "and he's a devil on wheels, by all accounts. Diablo's
no angel, as you've said, Langdon, and this boy made him a heap worse.
You've handled some bad horses in your time, and know more about it than
I do; but I'd suggest that you put Westley--he's a patient lad--to look
after the Black; give him quite a bit of work, and when you've got him
right, try him out with something, and if he shows any form we'll pick
out a soft spot for him. Let me see, he's a maiden--fancy that, buying a