t racing plates on to-day, and that cholo kid sits him like he
intended to ride him," his companion added. "Joe, I have a suspicion
that nag is a ringer. _He looks like a champion_."

"If he wins we'll _know_ he's a ringer," Joe replied complacently.
"We'll register a protest at once. Of course, the horse is royally
bred, but he hasn't been trained, he's never been on a track before and
even if he has speed, both early and late, he'll probably be left at
the post. He's carrying one hundred and eighteen pounds and a green
_cholo_ kid has the leg up. No chance, I tell you. Forget it."

Don Mike, returning from the paddock after saddling Panchito and giving
Allesandro his final instructions, sat majestically in his seat, but
Father Dominic, Brother Anthony, Pablo and Carolina paid vociferous
tribute to their favorite and the little lad who rode him.
Allesandro's swarthy hands and face were sharply outlined against a
plain white jockey suit; somebody had loaned him a pair of riding boots
and a cap of red, white and blue silk. This much had Don Mike
sacrificed for convention, but not the willow switch. Allesandro waved
it at his master and his grandparents as he filed past.

Pablo stood up and roared in English: "_Kai_! Allesandro! Eef you
don' win those race you grandfather hee's goin' cut you throat sure. I
look to you all the time, _muchacho_. You keep the mind on the
bus-i-ness. You hear, Allesandro _mio_?"

Allesandro nodded, the crowd laughed and the horses went to the post.
They were at the post a minute, but got away to a perfect start.

"Sancho Panza leads on Panchito!" the book-maker, Joe, declared as the
field swept past the grand-stand. He was following the flying horses
through his racing glasses. "Quarter horse," he informed his
companion. "Beat the gate like a shot out of a gun. King Agrippa, the
favorite, second by two lengths. Sir Galahad third. At the quarter!
Panchito leads by half a length, Sir Galahad second. King Agrippa
third! At the half! Sir Galahad first, Panchito second, King Agrippa
third! At the three-quarter pole! King Agrippa first, Panchito
second, Polly P. third. Galahad's out of it. Polly P's making her
spurt, but she can't last. Into the stretch with Panchito on the rail
and coming like he'd been sent for and delayed. Oh, Lord, Jim, that's
a horse--and we thought he was a goat! Look at him come! He's an open
length in front of Agrippa and the _cholo_ hasn't