Omaha daily bee., 1902-07-20

head solemnIy.
"Herel ave to two-how much" but
Lewis was gone.
He burrowed like a mole most indus
t~riousiy, regardless of peoples toes, their
ribs, their dark looks and even angry ex-
presslons Of strong disspproval. and when
he had gained the greensward OF the lawn
hurried to his friends box.
Did you get It on ?" queried the latter.
"No, / don't like the look OF It. Faust
is holding out Lausanne and stretched me
half a point about the mare. He and
Langdon are in the sam boat"
but that won't win the race remon
strated Dandy. 'LauEanne is a maiden and
Porter doesn't often make a mistake about
any Of hts own stock"
IL thought ia come back and tell you
said Bob Lewis. apologetically.
"And you did right. but II the mare wins
and I'm not on, after getting IL straight
from Porter. I'd want to 60 out and kick
myself good and hard. But put 1t on
straight and place, then IL Lauzsnne's the
goods well save"
Lewis was gone about four minutes.
You're on" he said when he returned.
Nv two hundred on the chestnut for my
self"
'Lau1anneT'
IT'S booked that way, but I'm backin'
the trainer, Langdon. I went on my up
pers two years ago backing horses; I'm
following men now"
bad business objected his stout
friend. TITS bad business to back any
thing that talks"
When John Porter reached the saddling
paddock his brown mare, Lucretia, was
= - - - -.
corner. AS he walked down toward her
his trainer, Andy Dixon, came forward a
few PAGES to meet him.
"Are they hammerin' Cranes horse In
the ring, sir?' he asked, smoothing down
the grass with the toe of one foot, watch
ing this physical process with extreme In
terest.
Just what you'd notice" replied Por-
ter. "Fwhy?"
well, I don't like the look Of 1t a lit
tie bit. Here's this Lausanne, runs like
a dog the last time out-last by the length
of a street-and now rye got 1t pretty
straight they're out for the stun"
They'd a stable boy up on him that
time"
THAT just IT," cried Dixon. Grant
comes to me that day-you know Grant;
he works the commission for Dick Langdon
and tells me to leave the horse alone,
and today he comes and. he hesitated.
IAN what?"
TELLS me TO go light on our mare"
isn't Grant broke % asked Porter. with
seeming irrelevance.
Hes close next It," answered the
trainer.
AREN'T his friends that follow him all
broker"
"a good many Of them have their address,
In Queer street"
Look here, Andy" said the owner,
there isn't a man with a horse in this
stake that doesn't think he's going to
win, and when it's all over well see
Lucretia's number so up. Grants q fool
he added viciously. Didn't he break
Fisher-dldn't he break every other man
that ever stuck to him?"
'It's not Grant at ALL" replied Dixon,
rubbing the palms of his hands together
thoughtfully-a way he had when he
wished to concentrate in concrete form the
result Of some deep c~ogitation-"it's Lang
don an he's several blocks away from an
asylum"
"Langdon makes mistakes. too"
HE oashes In often when he's credited
with a mistake retorted the other.
well, I've played. the little mare" as
serted Porter.
Much, sir?" asked Dixon solicitously.
"All / can standard a bit more" he
added falteringly. 81 need & win, a good
win," he offered in an explanatory voice.
II want to clear Ringwood-but never
mind about that. Andy. The mares well,
amt she? There can't be anything doing
with McRay-we,ve only put him up a few
times, but he seems all right
81 think we'll win," answered the
trainer. 81 didn't get anything straight
Just that there seemed a deuced strong
tip on Lausanne, considerin' that he'd
never showed any form TO warrant 1t.
Yonder he is. sir, in No. b-go and have
a look at him"
As John Porter walked across the pad
dock a horseman touched the fingers of
his right hand to his cap. There was a
half-concealed look Of interest in the mans
eye that Porter knew by experience meant
something.
what do you know, Mixer" he asked
.carelessly, only half halting in his stride.
''Nottin', sir, but dere's something In de
know dis trip. Your mares a good little
nlly wen she's right, but you ire up against
it."
HOTl6T SlOppCu II "
man. He was Mike Gaynor, a trainer, and
more than once Porter had stood his
friend. Mike always had on hand three or
four horses Of inconceivable slowness and
uncertainty Of wind and limb; consequently
there was an ever-recurring inability to
pay feed bills, so he had every chance to
know Just who was his friend and who
was not. for he tried them most sorely.
Porter knew all this quite well, also thai
In spite of Mikes chronic impecuniostty hS
was honest and true as steel to q benefactor
He waited. feeling sure that Gaynor had
something to tell.
There's a strong play on Lausanne ain
there. sirT"
Porter nodded.
Sure ting. That Langdon's a crook.
knowed him when he was ridin' on freigh
cars; now he's a swell, though he's a lonl
sprint from bein' a gentleman. l got de til
dat dere was a KILN on, an axed Dicl
/ angdon II deTe was anything doin'' ant
Dick says to me. Gays he, putin bot
thumbs up"-and Mike held both hands on
horizontally with the thumbs stin ant
vertical to IL ustrate this form OF oath
" there's nottin' dom, Mike says he. Wha
dye t'ink Of that, sir, an me KNOWN Their
was? ?" asked Mike tragically.
'It's tie biggest tip that always fall
down. GaynoT, and they've got to be prett!
.utt. a. haat Ta,cratfa