y the start."

The Kid looked again at the betting ring; then he shook his head.
"Aw, what's the use?" said he irritably. "What's the use?"

Old Man Curry's countenance took on a look of deep concern.

"What ails you, son? Ain't you well?"

"Well enough, I guess. Why?"

"Because I never see you pass up a mortal cinch before."

The Kid chuckled mirthlessly. "Old-timer," said he, "I'm up against a
cinch of my own--but it's a cinch to lose."

He returned to his survey of the open field, but Old Man Curry
lingered. He stroked his beard meditatively.

"Son," said he at length, "Solomon says that a brother is born for
adversity. I don't know what a father is born for, but I reckon it's
to give advice. Where you been the last week or ten days? It's
mighty lonesome round the stable without you."

"I'm in a jam, and you can't help me."

"Mebbe not, but it might do some good to talk it all out of your
system. You know the number, Frank."

"You mean well, old-timer," said the Kid; "and your heart's in the
right place, but you--you don't understand."

"No, and how can I 'less you open up and tell me what's the matter?
If you've done anything wrong----"

"Forget it!" said the Kid shortly. "You're barking up the wrong tree.
I'm trying to figure out how to do right!"...

That night the door of Old Man Curry's tack room swung gently open,
and the aged horseman, looking up from his well-thumbed copy of the
Old Testament, nodded to an expected visitor.

"Set down, Frank, and take a load off your feet," said he hospitably.
"I sort of thought you'd come."

For a time they talked horse, usually an engrossing subject, but
after a bit the conversation flagged. The Kid rolled many cigarettes
which he tossed away unfinished, and the old man waited in silence
for that which he knew could not long be delayed. It came at last in
the form of a startling question. "Old-timer," said the Kid
abruptly, "you--you never got married, did you?"

Old Man Curry blinked a few times, passed his fingers through his
beard, and stared at his questioner. "Why, no, son." The old man
spoke slowly, and it was plain that he was puzzled. "Why, no; I never
did."

"Did you ever think of it--seriously, I mean?"

Old Man Curry met this added impertinence without resentment, for the
light was beginning to dawn on him. He drew out his packet of fine
cut and studied its wrappings carefully.

"I'm not kidding, old-timer. Did you ever think of it?"