Part 42 (1/2)

This information had been brought to Langdon, but he also had observed the gallop. And the same boy was to ride Lauzanne in the race, he understood, for Redpath had been released, and was looking for another mount. It wasn't in the natural order of things that one small stable would have in it two horses good enough to win the Derby, especially when one of them was a cast-off; but there was the gallop; time, like figures, didn't lie, not often; and as he thought of it Langdon admitted that he had never seen such an improvement in a horse as had been made in Lauzanne. Shandy had told him that it was Miss Porter's doing, that she had cured him of his sulky moods; the gallop Langdon had witnessed seemed to bear out the truth of this. What was he to do? They couldn't repeat the trick they had played on Lucretia. The Dutchman might win; he had worked the full Derby distance, a mile and a half, in 2:45, nearly all out at the finish. Lauzanne's gallop was only a mile and a quarter; he might not be able to stay the additional quarter. But there was ten thousand dollars at stake--for Langdon. He sought to discover the ident.i.ty of Lauzanne's rider; but n.o.body knew him--Dixon had picked him up somewhere. Perhaps he could be got at; that would simplify matters greatly.

The morning after her fast work on Lauzanne, Allis, draped as she was into the personification of Al Mayne, arrived at the course before their horses. As she was leaning over the paddock rail waiting for Lauzanne to come, Langdon, who had evidently determined upon a course of action, sauntered up carelessly to the girl and commenced to talk. After a free preliminary observation he said, ”You're the boy that's ridin' for Andy Dixon, ain't you?”

The small figure nodded its head.

”I seen you gallop that Chestnut yesterday. Where you been ridin--you're a stranger here, I reckon?”

”Out West,” answered Allis, at a hazard.

”Oh, San Francisco, eh? Are you engaged to Dixon?”

”I'm just on trial.”

”Goin' to ride the Chestnut in the race?”

Again the boy nodded; under the circ.u.mstances it wasn't wise to trust too much to speech.

”He ain't no good--he's a bad horse. I guess I've got the winner of that race in my stable. If he wins, I'd like to sign you for a year. I like the way you ride. I ain't got no good lightweight. I might give you a thousand for a contract, an' losin' and winnin' mounts when you had a leg up. How do you like ridin' for Dixon?” he continued, the little chap not answering his observations.

”I ain't goin' to ride no more for him after this race,” answered the other, quite truthfully enough, but possessed of a curiosity to discover the extent of the other's villainy.

”I don't blame you. He's no good; he don't never give his boys a chance.

If you win on the Chestnut, like as not they'll just give you the winnin' mount. That ain't no good to a boy. They ain't got no money, that's why. The owner of my candidate, The Dutchman, he's a rich man, an' won't think nothin' of givin' a retainer of a thousand if we won this race. That'll mean The Dutchman's a good horse, and we'll want a good light boy to ride him, see?”

Allis did see. Langdon was diplomatically giving her as A1 Mayne to understand that if she threw the race on Lauzanne, she would get a place in their stable at a retainer of a thousand dollars.

”We can afford it if we win the race,” he continued, ”for we stand a big stake. Come and see me any time you like to talk this over.”

After he had gone, just as Allis was leaving the rail, she was again accosted; this time by Shandy. She trembled an instant, fearing that the small red-lidded ferret eyes would discover her ident.i.ty. But the boy was too intent on trying to secure his ill-earned five hundred dollars to think of anything else.

”Good mornin', boy,” he said, cheerily. ”I used to be in Dixon's stable.

It's h.e.l.l; and he's a swipe. I see my boss talkin' to you just now. Did he put you next a good thing?”

Allis nodded her head, knowingly.

”He's all right. So's the other one--the guy as has got the mun; he's got a bank full of it. I'm on to him; his name's Crane--”

Allis started.

”You don't know him,” continued the imp; ”he's too slick to go messin'

about. But if the old man promised you anything, see, G.o.d blast me, you'll git it. Not like that other skin-flint hole where you don't git nothin'. I stand in five hundred if our horse wins the Derby.”

”Do you ride him?” asked Al Mayne.

”Ride nothin'. I don't have to. I've did my job already.”

”I don't believe they'll give you five hundred for nothin',” said Allis, doubtingly, knowing that the boy's obstinate nature, if he were crossed, would probably drive him into further explanation.

”Say, you're a stiff. What'd the ole man want you to do--pull Lauzanne?”