, though he's all right too, but" and he
looked about carefully to see that nobody was within ear-shot. Two men
were talking a little farther out in the paddock, and Redpath, motioning
to Allis, stepped close to the stall that was next to the one Lucretia
had occupied, "I could a-been in the money."

The girl started. Crane had said that the jockey had stopped riding.

"Yes, Miss; you mustn't blame me, for I took chances of bein' had up
afore the Stewards."

"You did wrong if you didn't try to win," exclaimed Allis, angrily.

"I did try to win, but I couldn't. I saw that I'd never catch that big
Black; he was going too strong; his long stride was just breaking the
little mare's heart. She's the gamest piece of horseflesh--say, Miss
Porter, believe me, it just hurt me to take it out of her, keeping up
with that long-legged devil. If I could a-headed him once, just got to
him once--I tried it when we turned into the straight--he'd have quit.
But it was no use--the mare couldn't do it. With him out of the race I'd
have won; I could a-been second or third as it was, but it might have
done the little mare up so she wouldn't be any good all season. I
thought a bit over this when I was galloping. I knew she was in the
Brooklyn Derby, an' when I had the others beat at a mile, thinks I, if
the public don't get onto it, Mr. Porter can get all his losses back in
the Brooklyn Derby. That's why I eased up on the little mare. You don't
think I could do anything crooked against you, Miss? Give me the mount
in the Derby, an' your father can bet his last dollar 'that Lucretia'll
win."

As he finished speaking Mike Gaynor shuffled moodily up to them. Usually
Mike's clothes suggested a general despondency; his wiry body, devoid of
roundness as a rat trap, seemed inadequate to the proper expression of
their original design. The habitual air of endeavorless decay had been
accentuated by the failure of Lucretia to win the Brooklyn. Mike had
shrunken into his allenveloping coat with pathetic moroseness. The
look of pity in his eye when it lighted upon Allis gave place to one
of rebellious accusation as he turned his head slowly and glared at
Redpath.

"Ye put up a bad ride there, b'y," he commenced, speaking in a hard,
dry, defiant tone; "a bad ride, an' no mistake. Mind I'm not sayin' ye
could a-won, but ye might a-tried," and he waited for Redpath's defense.

"She was all out, Mike, beat; what was the use of driving her to death
whe