to say. He'd like to run that horse
in his colours next Saturday and win the Handicap with him."

"You're sure he ain't intending to lay him up with the books and have
him pulled, or something?"

"Not at this track, old-timer. You see, Engle is just the least
little bit leery of Pettigrew. They talked it all over and decided
that it wouldn't be healthy for him to buy a four-time winner and
make a bad showing with him the first time out. He wants the horse
for a gambling tool, all right enough, but he won't be foolish enough
to do any cheating with Eliphaz at this track. Engle says himself
that he don't dare take a chance--not with old Pettigrew laying for
him--on general principles. Engle thinks that if he buys the black
horse and wins a good race with him first time out it may pull the
wool over Pettigrew's eyes. He says Eliphaz is a cinch in the
Handicap next Saturday."

Old Man Curry fingered his beard for some time in silence.

"Blast the luck!" said he suddenly. "Why didn't I know Miles was
arepresentin' Al Engle?"

"You'd have said three thousand, eh?"

"No," said Old Man Curry. "No, son. Fifteen hundred."

"_Fifteen hundred!_ You're crazy!"

"Mebbe I am, but Solomon, he says that even a fool, if he keeps his
mouth shut tight enough, can pass for a wise man.... Frank, I wish
you'd go out and find Jimmy Miles. Sort of hint to him that if he
comes back here he won't be throwed out on his head. Do that for me,
and mebbe you won't lose nothing by it."

The negotiations for the purchase of Eliphaz were long drawn out, but
on Friday evening at dusk Old Man Curry went into the stall and said
good-bye to his four-time winner.

"Don't be so skittish!" said the old gentleman. "I ain't come to put
the strap on ye.... Habit is a great thing, black hoss, a great
thing. In this case I'm kind of dependin' on it. You know what the
dog done, don't ye? And the sow that was washed, she went wallerin'
in the mire, first chance she got. That's in the New Testament, but
Peter, he got the notion from Solomon and didn't give him credit
either.... Good-bye, black hoss, and whatever happens, good luck!"

This was at dusk, but it was close to eleven o'clock when the
transaction was completed by transfer of a fat roll of bills, which
Old Man Curry counted very carefully.

"Four hundred--five hundred--Jimmy, this hoss has got a engagement
for the Handicap to-morrow--seven hundred--seven-fifty--Was you
thinkin' of startin' him