wered for both.

"No, nothing private. I've been tryin' to tell Curry here that he
kind of took a mean advantage of me when he bought Fairfax so cheap."

"Eliphaz," corrected the old man, "and it wa'n't no advantage because
you was crazy to sell."

"I'd been drinkin' or I wouldn't have been such a fool," whined
Miles. "Booze in--brains out: the old story. If I hadn't been right
up against it, I wouldn't have sold the horse at all--attached to him
the way I was. I'd worked with him a long time, gettin' him ready to
win, and it was a mistake to let him go just when he was shapin' up.
I--I'd like to buy him back. Put a price on him, old man."

Miles stooped to extinguish a burning match end which the Kid had
thrown on the floor, and in that instant the Bald-faced Kid caught
Old Man Curry's eye and shook his head ever so slightly.

"He ain't for sale," said the owner of Eliphaz.

"Not for cash--and your own figure?" persisted Miles. Again a
wordless message flashed across the tackle-room. This time the Kid,
yawning, stretched one hand high over his head.

"Two thousand dollars!" said Old Man Curry promptly.

Miles gulped his astonishment.

"Why--why, you _got_ him for a hundred and fifty!" he cried.

"He's a better hoss than when I got him," said the old man, "and he's
won four races. Maybe he'll win four more. You asked for my figure.
You got it. Two thousand. Not a cent less."

Miles argued and pleaded, but the old man was firm.

"It ain't as if I was wantin' to sell," he explained. "I never want
to sell--when the other man wants to buy. That's business, ain't it?
Two thousand--take it or leave it."

"I'll see you later," said Miles. "You might come down some."

Hardly was he out of the room before Old Man Curry turned to his
remaining guest.

"Well, Frank," said he, "you know something. What is it?"

"I know Miles is trying to buy the black horse for Al Engle."

Old Man Curry's fist thumped upon his knee.

"Engle! How did you find that out, son?"

The Bald-faced Kid grinned.

"Everybody ain't as close-mouthed as you are, old-timer. Engle,
O'Connor, and Jimmy Miles split a quart of wine in the restaurant
under the grand stand after the last race to-day and the waiter hung
around and got an earful. O'Connor was against the deal from the
jump. He says nobody can win any money on a Bible horse without
queering his luck. Engle knows you wouldn't sell to him so he sent
Miles after you and told him what