dusky young mulatto, clad in a
ragged striped sweater, recently discharged as a stable-boy. "What wus
the time then? Why 'n't you read the book?"

This was a dig at Robin, for he was "no great hand at reading," and the
crowd knew it and laughed. The old man turned on the speaker.

"Races now ain't no mo' than quarter-dashes. Let 'em try 'em in fo'-mile
heats if they want to see what 's in a hoss. Dat 's the test o' wind
an' bottom. _Our_ hosses used to run fo'-mile heats from New York to New
Orleans, an' come in with their heads up high enough to look over dis
gate."

"Why 'n't you read the books?" persisted the other, facing him.

"I can't read not much better than you ken _ride_," retorted Robin.
This was a crusher in that company, where riding stood high above any
literary attainment; for the other had been a failure as a jockey.

He tried to rally.

"I 'll bet you a hundred dollars I can----"

Robin gazed at him witheringly.

"You ain' got a hunderd dollars; you ain't got a hunderd cents! You
would n't 'a' been wuth a hunderd dollars in slave-times, an' I know you
ain' wuth it now."

The old man, with a final observation that he did n't want to have to
go to court as a witness when folks were taken up for stealing their
master's money, took out and consulted his big gold stop-watch. That
was his conclusive and clinching argument. It was surprising what an
influence that watch exercised. Everyone who knew Robin knew that watch
had been given him before the war as a testimonial by the stewards of
the Jockey Club. It had the indisputable record engraved on the case,
and had been held over the greatest race-horses of the country. Robin
could go up to the front door of the club and ask for the president--he
possessed this exclusive privilege--and be received with an open hand
and a smile, and dismissed with a jest. Had not Major McDowell met him,
and introduced him to a duke as one of his oldest friends on the turf,
and one who could give the duke more interesting information about the
horses of the past than any other man he knew? Did not Colonel Clark
always shake hands with him when they met, and compare watches? So now,
when, as the throng of horse-boys and stable-attendants stood about him,
Robin drew his watch and consulted it, it concluded his argument and
left him the victor. The old trainer himself, however, was somewhat
disturbed, and once more he gazed up the road anxiously. The ground on
which he h