d give the snap away."

"Huh!" growled the saturnine O'Connor. "Needn't worry about tipping
anything off to them judges. They're both blind. Here's what bothers
me: Old Man Curry is in that same race with Isaiah."

"Well, what of that?" said Engle. "That old fool is all same as a
nightmare to you, ain't he?"

"Call him a fool if you want to," was the stubborn rejoinder, "but he
made an awful sucker out of you with that trick horse of his. An
awful sucker. If Old Man Curry is a fool, there's a lot of wise
people locked up in the bug houses. That's all I've got to say!"

"He's had your goat ever since the meeting opened," grinned the
Sharpshooter.

"That's all right," said O'Connor. "That's a whole lot better than my
buying a goat from him--for a thousand dollars." This by way of
reminding the Sharpshooter of something which he preferred to forget.
Engle reddened.

"Aw, what's the good of chewing the fat?" interrupted the fourth man
briskly. This was Ab Mears, of whom it was said that he trained his
horses to look into the betting ring on their way to the post and to
run in accordance with the figures they saw upon the bookmakers'
slates. "Let's not have any arguments, boys. All little pals
together, eh?... Now, getting down to business, as the fellow said
when he was digging the well, Isaiah is a pretty shifty old selling
plater when he's at himself; but you know and I know that the best
day he ever saw he couldn't beat Fieldmouse at a mile with a feather
on her back. She'll walk home alone. The most Isaiah can do is to
come second----"

"He'll be lucky if he does that well," interrupted Engle. "The mare
will be in front of him all the way.... Same old stuff; wait for the
closing betting. Weaver, you keep on hollering your head off about
the weight; it'll scare the outsiders and they won't play her. Then,
at the last minute, cut loose and load up the books with all they'll
take."

"Just the same," muttered O'Connor, "I'd feel a lot more comfortable
if Curry wasn't in the race. That old boy is poison, that's what he
is. The last couple of times----"

"Oh, shut up!" rasped Engle. "Elisha was the horse he trimmed us
with--Elisha! Get that through your head. This is Isaiah. There's as
much difference in horses as there is in prophets. What you need is
one of those portable Japanese foot warmers."

The paddock is the place to go for information, particularly after
the saddling bell rings. The owners are usually