, like
as not the owner hasn't a penny on them; but the public'll howl; they'll
call it in-an'-out runnin'; an' the scribblers'll get their paper to
print a notice that the stable ought to be ruled off; an' all the time
you're breakin' your heart trying to get him to give his true--Hello!
there's Colley out on The Dutchman; mount your horse, Westley--wait,
you don't need no spurs; yes, carry a whip, an' give the guys that is
watchin' a stage play with it; but don't hit the Black. We'll just see
what he'll do himself, this trip," he added, addressing Crane.

Taking Westley's small-booted foot in his hand, he lifted the lad to
Diablo's back, and led the horse out through a gate to the course.

XX

The two boys cantered their mounts down to the quarter post carelessly,
as though they were going around to the far side.

"Look at 'em!" cried the Trainer; "isn't he a little gentleman?"

To the uninitiated this might have been taken as a tribute to one of the
boys, Westley, perhaps; but the Trainer was not even thinking of them.
They were of no moment. It was the wine-red bay, The Dutchman, cantering
with gentle, lazy grace, that had drawn forth this encomium. His head,
somewhat high carried, was held straight and true in front, and his big
eyes searched the course with gentle inquisitiveness, for others of his
kind, perhaps.

"He's a lovely horse," commented Crane, knowing quite well to what
Langdon referred.

"He's all that, but just look at the other devil."

Diablo was throwing his nose fretfully up and down, up and down;
grabbing at the bit; pirouetting from one side the course to the other;
nearly pulling Westley over his neck one minute, as with lowered head he
sought to break away, and the next dashing forward for a few yards with
it stuck foolishly high, like a badmouthed Indian cayuse.

"But Westley'll manage him," Langdon confided to Crane, after a period
of silent observation; "he'll get his belly full of runnin' when he's
gone a mile and a quarter with The Dutchman. Gad! that was neat; here
they come;" for the two boys had whirled with sudden skill at the
quarter post, and broke away, with Diablo slightly in the lead. "My God!
he can move," muttered Langdon, abstractedly, and quite to himself. The
man at his side had floated into oblivion. He saw only a great striding
black horse coming wide-mouthed up the stretch. At the Black's heels,
with dogged lope, hung the Bay.

"Take him back, take him