s face was averted, eyes on floor, hands tensely clasping those of
her father. Absolute stillness held the room. The colonel was staring at
the girl's bent head.

"It's--it's all right, girlie. All right, don't fret," he murmured
thickly. "The Rogue will win--bound to win. You don't understand--you're
only a girl--only a child----"

"Of course, Daddy," agreed Sue slowly, wide-eyed. "I'm only a child. I
don't understand."

But she understood more than her father. She was thinking of Billy
Garrison.

CHAPTER IX.

A BREATH OF THE OLD LIFE.

Major Calvert's really interested desire to see his pseudo nephew
astride a mount afforded Garrison the legitimate opportunity of keeping
clear of Mr. Waterbury for the next few days. The track was situated
some three miles from Calvert House--a modern racing-stable in every
sense of the word--and early the next morning Garrison started forth,
accompanied by the indefatigable major.

Curiosity was stirring in the latter's heart. He had long been searching
for a fitting rider for the erratic and sensitive Dixie--whimsical and
uncertain of taste as any woman--and though he could not bring himself
to believe in Crimmins' eulogy of Garrison's riding ability, he was
anxious to ascertain how far the trainer had erred.

Crimmins was not given to airing his abortive sense of humor overmuch,
and he was a sound judge of horse and man. If he was right--but the
major had to laugh at such a possibility. Garrison to ride like that!
He who had confessed he had never thrown a leg over a horse before! By a
freak of nature he might possess the instinct but not the ability.

Perhaps he even might possess the qualifications of an exercise-boy; he
had the build--a stripling who possessed both sinew and muscle, but who
looked fatty tissue. But the major well knew that it is one thing
to qualify as an exercise-boy and quite another to toe the mark as a
jockey. For the former it is only necessary to have good hands, a good
seat in the saddle, and to implicitly obey a trainer's instructions. No
initiative is required. But it is absolutely essential that a boy
should own all these adjuncts and many others--quickness of perception,
unlimited daring, and alertness to make a jockey. No truer summing up
of the necessary qualifications is there than the old and famous "Father
Bill" Daly's doggerel and appended note:

"Just a tinge of wickedness,
With a touch of devil-may-care;
Just a