tewards' Stand. As he did so Langdon came back down the steps. One
of the Stewards, following him with quick eyes, saw Mike and beckoned
with a finger.

"There's an objection to the rider of Lauzanne," said the official;
"Trainer Langdon says Alan Porter rode the horse under a permit
belonging to a boy named Mayne."

"He's mistook, sir." answered Mike, respectfully; "there's Alan Porter
standin' down there in the crowd. I'll sind him up, sir, an' ye can ask
him yerself."

Gaynor passed hurriedly down the steps, seized Porter by the arm, and
whispered in his ear, "Tell the judge yer name--that a b'y named Mayne
rode Lauzanne. Quick now."

Then he stepped up to Langdon. The latter had seen Alan Porter go up
the steps, and realized he had made a mistake. Mike drew him inside the
little enclosure that surrounded the stand.

"There's Alan Porter wit' the Stewards," Gaynor whispered close to the
man's face; "an' ye'll withdraw the objection at once. If ye don't ye'll
have to settle wit' the Stewards fer tryin' to bribe the b'y Mayne to
pull Lauzanne. And Shandy has owned up that he was to get five hundred
dollars fer dosin' Lucretia. Ye'll withdraw now, or get ruled off fer
life; besides, p'isinin' a horse is jail business; an' I'll take me oath
before God I can prove this, too. Now go an' withdraw quick. Ye're a
damn blackguard."

Mike had meant to restrict himself to diplomatic pressure, but his Irish
was up like a flash, and he couldn't resist the final expression of
wrath.

A crowd of silent men had gathered about the box in a breathless wait.
Fortunes depended upon the brief consultation that was being held
between the Stewards.

As Alan Porter came down Langdon went up the steps with nervous haste.
"I've made a mistake, gentlemen," he said to the Stewards, "with your
permission I'll withdraw the objection."

"Yes, it's better that way," returned one of the Stewards; "the best
horse won, and that's what racing's for. It would be a pity to spoil
such a grand race on a technicality."

XXXVII

After his first burst of aboriginal glee, ecstatically uncouth as it
was, Old Bill's joy over the victory of Lauzanne took on a milder form
of expression.

"Let's line up fer a cash-in," he exclaimed to Mortimer, making a break
down the steps to the lawn. On the ground he stopped, his mind working
at fever heat, changing its methods quickly.

"Let's wait till de kid's passed de scales; dere's no hurry. Dere w