w, an' there'll be somethin'
to settle between us, John Porter, at some other time and some other
place," blustered Langdon, threateningly.

Porter looked at him with a half-amused, half-tolerant expression on his
square face, and said, speaking in a very dry convincing voice: "I guess
the check will close out all deals between us; it will pay you to keep
out of my way, I think."

As they moved toward the Secretary's office, Porter was accosted by his
trainer.

"The Stewards want to speak to you, sir," said Dixon.

"All right. Send a boy over to this man's stable for Lauzanne--I've
bought him."

The Trainer stared in amazement.

"I'll give you the check when I come back," Porter continued, speaking
to Langdon.

"There's trouble on, sir," said Dixon, as they moved toward the
Stewards' box.

"There always is," commented Porter, dryly.

"The Stewards think Lucretia didn't run up to her form. They've had me
up, an' her jock, McKay, is there now. Starter Carson swears he couldn't
get her away from the post--says McKay fair anchored the mare. He fined
the boy fifty dollars at the start."

"I think they've got the wrong pig by the ear--why don't they yank
Langdon? he's at the bottom of it. It a pretty rich, Andy, isn't it?
They hit me heavy over the race, and now they'd like to rule me off for
that thief's work," and he jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the
direction of Langdon.

"Yes, racin's hell now," commented Dixon with laconic directness. "It
seems just no use workin' over a good horse when any mut of a crook who
is takin' a turn at plungin' can get at the boy. I believe Boston Bill's
game of gettin' a straight boy to play, an' lettin' the horses go hang,
is the proper racket."

"Yes, a good boy is better than a good horse nowadays; but they're like
North Poles--hard to come by."

"Some mug give the Stewards a yarn that you'd bought Lauzanne, sir, an'
sez that's why you didn't win with the mare."

Porter stopped, and gasped in astonishment. What next?

"You see," continued Dixon, apologetically, "I didn't know you was
meanin' to buy that skate, so I says it was all a damned lie."

"Things are mixed, Andy, ain't they?"

"I didn't know, sir."

"Of course not--I didn't mention it to you--it was all a fluke. But I
don't blame you, Andy. I'll go and talk to the Stewards--they're all
right; they only want to get at the truth of it."

As Porter went up the steps of the Stewards' Stand, he felt how