Ben Connor sighed.

"I watched four races. The wise guys with me were betting ten bucks on
every race and losing on red-hot tips; and every time I picked out the
horse that looked good to me, that horse ran in the money. Then they
came out for the Lorrimer. One of my friends was betting on King Charles
and the other on Miss Lazy. Both of them couldn't win, and the chance
was that neither of them would. So I looked over the line as it went by
the stand. King Charles was a little chestnut, one of those long fellows
that stretch like rubber when they commence running; Miss Lazy was a
gangling bay. Yes, they were both good horses, but I looked over the
rest, and pretty soon I saw a rangy chestnut with a white foreleg and a
midget of a boy up in the saddle. 'No. 7--Tip-Top Second,' said the wise
guy on my right when I asked him; 'a lame one.' Come to look at him
again, he was doing a catch step with his front feet, but I had an idea
that when he got going he'd forget all about that catch and run like the
wind. Understand?"

"Just a hunch," said the girl. "Yes!"

She stepped closer to the counter and leaned across it. Her eyes were
bright. Connor knew that she was seeing that picture of the hot day, the
crowd of straw hats stirring wildly, the murmur and cry that went up as
the string of racers jogged past.

"They went to the post," said Connor, "and I got down my bet--a hundred
dollars, my whole wad--on Tip-Top Second. The bookie looked just once at
me, and I'll never forget how his eyebrows went together. I went back to
my seat."

"You were shaking all over, I guess," suggested the girl, and her hands
were quivering.

"I was not," said Ben Connor, "I was cold through and through, and never
moved my eyes off Tip-Top Second. His jockey had a green jacket with two
stripes through it, and the green was easy to watch. I saw the crowd go
off, and I saw Tip-Top left flat-footed at the post."

The girl drew a breath. Connor smiled at her. The hot evening had
flushed his face, but now a small spot of white appeared in either
cheek, and his dull eyes had grown expressionless. She knew what he
meant when he said that he was cold when he saw the string go to the
post.

"It--it must have made you sick!" said the girl.

"Not a bit. I knew the green jacket was going to finish ahead of the
rest as well as I knew that my name was Ben Connor. I said he was left
at the post. Well, it wasn't exactly that, but when the bunch came
s