Part 6 (1/2)

John Porter stood irresolutely for a minute, not answering the girl, as though he were loath to go close to the contaminating influence that seemed part and parcel of Lauzanne, and which was stretching out to envelop him. He was thinking moodily that he had played against a man who used loaded dice, and had lost through his own rashness. He had staked so much on the race that the loss would cut cripplingly into his affairs.

”I guess you're right, Allis,” he said; ”a man's got to keep his word, no matter what happens. I never owned a dope horse yet, and unless I'm mistaken this yellow skate is one to-day. I'll take him though, girl; but he'll get nothing but oats from me to make him gallop.”

Then Porter went resolutely down the steps, smothering in his heart the just rebellion that was tempting him to repudiate his bargain.

As he reached the lawn, a lad swung eagerly up the steps, threw his eye inquiringly along row after row of seats until it stopped at Allis. Then he darted to her side.

”h.e.l.lo, Sis--been looking for you. Where's Dad?”

”Gone to get Lauzanne.”

”Lauzanne!” and the boy's eyes that were exactly like her own, opened wide in astonishment.

”Yes; father bought him.”

”The deuce! I say, Allis, that won't do. Don't you know there's something wrong about this race? I just saved myself. I backed the little mare for a V--then I heard something. This Langdon's a deuce of a queer fish, I can tell you. I wonder Crane has anything to do with him, for the Boss is straight as they make them.”

”Did you back Lauzanne then, Alan?”

”You bet I did; quick, too; and was hunting all over for the gov'nor to tell him. You see, I know Langdon--he comes to the bank sometimes. He's that slick he'll hardly say 'Good-day,' for fear of giving something away.”

”Then how did you--how did people know there was something wrong?”

”Oh, a woman, of course--she blabbed. I think she's d.i.c.k Langdon's sister, and--”

”Hush-hh!” and Allis laid her hand on the boy's arm, indicating with her eyes the woman in the seat behind.

”I'd better go and tell father--”

”You needn't bother; he knows. It's a question of honor. Father said he'd buy the horse, and he's gone to make good.”

”I wouldn't; that sort of thing will break a man.”

”It's a good way to go broke, Alan. Perhaps we'd all be richer if it wasn't so strong in the Porter blood; but all the same, brother, you do just as father is doing to-day--always keep your word. I tell you what it is, boy”--and her face lighted up as she spoke--”father is a hero--that's what he is; he's just the biggest, bravest man ever lived.

He couldn't do a mean act. How did you get away from the bank, Alan?”

she said, changing the subject; ”I didn't know you were coming to-day.”

”Mortimer was light, and took on my work. He's a good sort.”

”Does he bet?”

The boy laughed. ”Mortimer bet? That's rich. We call him 'Old Solemnity'

in the bank; but he doesn't mean any harm by it--he just can't help it, that's all. If he had a stiff ruff about his neck, you could pose him for a picture of one of those old Dutch burgomasters.”

”He's doing your work, and you're making fun of him, boy.”

”You can't make fun of him, at him, or with him; he's a grave digger; but you can trust him.”

”That's better.”