rience that you spoke about
the other day."

"Solomon says----" began Old Man Curry, but the Kid beat a hasty
retreat.

"Put him on ice till to-morrow!" he called back over his shoulder.
"This is my busy day!"

For a horse that had never won a race, Last Chance made a gay
appearance in the paddock. Little Calamity, conscious of his
shortcomings as a trainer, had done his best to offset them by extra
activities in his capacity as stable hand. The big chestnut had been
groomed and polished until his smooth coat shone like satin and blue
ribbons were braided in his mane. The other nonwinners were a
sorry-looking lot of dogs when compared with Last Chance, and the
owner's bosom swelled with proud anticipation.

"Look at the fire in his eye!" said Hopwood to the Bald-faced Kid.
"See how lively he is!"

"Uh-huh," said the Kid, who was present in the role of adviser. "He
seems to be full of pep to-day."

As a matter of fact, Last Chance was nervous. He knew that a trip to
the paddock was usually followed by a beating with a rawhide whip and
a prodding with blunt spurs, hence the skittishness of his behaviour
and the fire in his eye. Given a decent opportunity he would have
jumped the fence and gone home to his stall.

When the bell rang Little Calamity came out of the jockeys' room,
radiant as a butterfly in his new silks; he had the audacity to wink
when he saw the Kid looking at him.

"What do we do now?" demanded Hopwood, all in a flutter. "This is new
to me, you know."

"Well," said the Kid, "I'd say it would be a right pious idea to get
this fiery steed saddled up, unless Calamity here is figuring on
riding him bareback, which I don't think the judges would stand for."

Later it was the Kid who gave Calamity his riding orders. "All right,
boy," said he. "Nothing in here to beat but a lot of lizards. Never
look back and make every post a winning one. He can tow-rope this
field and drag 'em to death!"

"_Pzzt!_" whispered the jockey. "Not so strong with it, not so
strong!"

While the horses were on their way to the post the Bald-faced Kid
escorted Hopwood to a position in front of the grand stand.

"You want to be handy in case he wins," said the Kid. "You'll have to
go down in the ring if he does. It's a selling race and they might
try to run him up on you."

"In the ring, eh?" said Hopwood, straightening his collar and
plucking at his tie. "Do I look all right?" But the Kid was coughing
so hard that h