day." The aged horseman combed his white beard
with his fingers and regarded his impatient young friend with benign
tolerance. "You--got many clients, so far?" Thus tactfully did Old
Man Curry recognise the fact that the Bald-faced Kid was what another
man might have called a tout.

"A few, yes," said the Kid. "Pikers."

"Well, sort of whisper to 'em that Eliphaz'll be a good bet the next
time out."

"If it's a dog race, there won't be any price on him," was the sulky
response.

"It won't be a dog race," said Old Man Curry. "It'll be a hoss race."

A few days afterward the Bald-faced Kid picked up the overnight entry
slip and there found something which caused him to emit a long, low
whistle.

"Well, the poor old nut!" murmured the Kid. "Just because he thinks
well of the black horse, he's got no license to slip him in against
the real ones.... Too much class here for Eliphaz. He may be able to
beat dogs and nonwinners, but Topaz and Miss Louise will run the
eyeballs out of him. Let's see--Topaz won his last start----" and the
Bald-faced Kid fell to thumbing his form charts.

Topaz and Miss Louise did not run the eyeballs out of Eliphaz; the
supposed contenders never got near enough to the black horse to give
him a race. Eliphaz burst out in front when the barrier rose and
stayed there, triumphantly kicking clods in the faces of his
pursuers. To quote from the form chart notes: "Eliphaz much too good;
surprised the talent by winning as he pleased."

He certainly surprised the Bald-faced Kid, and grieved him too, for
that youth had persuaded a most promising client to bet his last
dollar on Topaz. Topaz was second, which was some consolation, but
the horse without any license to start in such company passed under
the wire with three lengths to spare, his mouth wide open because of
a strong pull. That night Old Man Curry poured vinegar into the
wound.

"Well, son," said he, "I hope and trust you remembered what I said
and cashed in on the black hoss to-day. They was offerin' 10 to 1 on
him in the openin' betting. He's an improved hoss, ain't he?"

"He's _another_ horse!" grunted the Kid. "Mose had to choke him all
the way down the stretch to keep him from breaking a track record!
What on earth have you done to him?"

"That's what they'd all like to know," chuckled the old man. "'A word
spoken in due season, how good it is!' I spoke one a few days ago.
Did you heed it, Frank?"

"How in hell could I figure