one more snicker out of either of you,' he says, ''n' I lead my
hoss to the depot!'

"I see he means it 'n' I gets my head down in the straw 'n' holds my
breath. Butsy stands there a-lookin' at us.

"'Has Alf come yet?' says Peewee, but he don't look at me.

"'Not yet, but he's expected,' I says, 'n' Peewee sticks his head down
in the straw 'n' makes a noise like Harry Evans' machine. I does the
same.

"As soon as I can see again, there's Butsy leadin' his hoss fur the
gate.

"'Now you've done it,' I says to Peewee.

"Peewee sets up 'n' takes a look.

"'Hi, Butsy!' he yells, 'come on back here! We weren't laughin' at
you!'

"But Butsy keeps right on a-goin'."

THE BIG TRAIN

The moon had acted as a stimulant to my thoughts, and the contented
munching sound as the "string" of horses consumed their hay was not
sedative enough to calm my utter wide-awake-ness.

"Why have you put bars across the door of that stall?" I asked Blister
Jones, trying to rouse him from his placid mood. He pulled a straw
from the bale upon which we sat, before replying.

"The Big Train's in there," he said quietly.

"No; is that a fact?" I cried, as I jumped to my feet and walked to the
door across which were the heavy wooden bars that had attracted my
attention. Peering through these I could see nothing, nor was there
any sound toward which I might have strained my eyes.

"I guess he's not at home," I said. "I can't see him."

"Stick around that door 'n' you'll see him all right!" Blister assured
me. Scarcely had he finished when the straw rustled and a huge head
shot forward into the planes of moonlight that slanted between the bars
into the black mystery of the stall.

Never had I seen anything so malevolent as this head. Its eyes were
green flame, holding the hate of hell in their depths. The mouth was
open, and the great white teeth closed with a snap on one of the bars
and shook it in its socket.

So this was the noted man-killer, nicknamed because of his size and his
astonishing ability to carry weight--The Big Train! His fame had been
borne by leaded column beyond the racing, and to the more general
public; for on several occasions he had succeeded in furnishing the
yellow newspapers with gory copy.

He had begun his career as a man-killer in his three-year-old form. An
unscrupulous owner had directed the jockey to carry an electric battery
during an important race. Under the current The Big Train