at
kind of booking is this, anyway? Miss Amber, 2 to 1.

"Make 'em _all_ odds on and be done with it!" sneered the gamblers.
"Talk about your syndicate books! Beat five races at this track and
if your money holds out you may beat the sixth, too. Huh!"

One bookmaker, more adventurous than his fellows, offered 4 to 5 on
Black Bill and was immediately mobbed. Then came the prices on the
outsiders. Simple Simon, 8 to 1; Pepper and Salt, 12 to 1; Ted
Mitchell and Everhardt, 15 to 1; and so on. Last of all, the chalk
paused at Elisha--40 to 1.

"Aw, be game!" taunted Al Engle. "Only 40--with what you know about
him? He ought to be 100, 40, and 20! Be game!"

"Who's doing this?" demanded Goldmark. "Come on, gentlemen! Make your
bets! We haven't got all day. Black Bill, 6 to 10. Simple Simon, 40
to 5. Thank _you_, sir."

Out in the paddock Old Man Curry rubbed the red flannel bandage on
Elisha's leg, stopping now and then to answer questions.

"Eh? Yes, been a little lame. Will he last? Well, it's this way; you
can't never tell. If it comes back on him--no, I didn't warm him up.
Why not? That's _my_ business, young man."

The Bald-faced Kid came also, alert as a fox, eager for any scrap of
information which might be converted into coin. He shook his head
reprovingly at Old Man Curry.

"I didn't think you'd have the heart, old-timer," said he. "Honest to
Pete, I didn't! Don't you care what happens to this horse or what?"

"Son," said the patriarch simply, "I care a lot. I care a-plenty. If
you've got any of that seven dollars left, you might put it on his
nose."

"Him? To win? You're daffy as a cuckoo bird! Why, last night he
couldn't put that foot on the ground!"

"Well, of course, Frank, if you know that much about it, don't let me
advise you. If I had seven dollars and was looking for a soft spot
I'd put it square on 'Lisha's nose."

"You've been losing too much sleep lately," said the Kid, edging
away. "You want to win this race so much that you've bulled yourself
into thinking that you can."

"Mebbe so, Frank, mebbe so," was the mild response, "but don't let me
influence you none whatever. Go play Black Bill. What's his price?"

"Three to five. One to two in some books."

"False price!" said the old man. "He ain't got no license to be odds
on."

"See you later!" said the Bald-faced Kid, and went away with a
pitying grin upon his face. The pity was evenly divided between
Elisha and his owner.

Old Ma