Thoroughbreds Part 38

"Don't you think she'll win, sir?" Alan asked, emboldened by his employer's freedom of speech.

"I do not. My horse, The Dutchman, is almost certain to win, my trainer tells me." Then he added, apologetic of his confidential mood, "I tell you this, lest through loyalty to your own people you should lose your money. Racing, I fancy, is very uncertain, even when it seems most certain."

Again Crane had cause to congratulate himself upon the somewhat clever manipulation of a difficult situation. He had scored again in his diplomatic love endeavor. He knew quite well that Allis's determined stand was only made possible by her expectation of gaining financial relief for her father through Lucretia's winning the Derby. Should she fail, they would be almost forced to turn to him in their difficulties.

That was what he wanted. He knew that the money won over Diablo, if accepted, must always be considered as coming from him. The gradual persistent dropping of water would wear away the hardest stone; he would attain to his wishes yet.

He was no bungler to attempt other than the most gently delicate methods.

XXIX

Encouraged by Jockey Redpath's explanation of his ride on Lucretia, Allis was anxious that Dixon should take the money her father had set aside for that purpose and back their mare for the Brooklyn Derby.

"We had better wait a day or two," Dixon had advised, "until we see the effect the hard gallop in the Handicap has had on the little mare. She ain't cleanin' up her oats just as well as she might; she's a bit off her feed, but it's only natural, though; a gallop like that takes it out of them a bit."

It was the day after Crane's visit to Ringwood that Dixon advised Allis that Lucretia seemed none the worse for her exertion.

"Perhaps we'd better put the money on right away," he said. "She's sure to keep well, and we'll be forced to take a much shorter price race day."

"Back the stable," advised Allis, "then if anything happens Lucretia we can start Lauzanne."

The Trainer laughed in good-natured derision. "That wouldn't do much good; we'd be out of the frying pan into the fire; we'd be just that much more money out for jockey an' startin' fees; he'd oughter been struck out on the first of January to save fifty dollars, but I guess you all had your troubles about that time an' wasn't thinkin' of declarations."

"It may have been luck; if Lauzanne would only try, something tells me he'd win," contended the girl.

"And somethin' tells me he wouldn't try a yard," answered Dixon, in good-humored opposition. "But I don't think it'll make no difference in the odds we get whether we back the stable or Lucretia alone; they won't take no stock in the Chestnut's prospects."

So Dixon made a little pilgrimage among the pencilers. He was somewhat dismayed and greatly astonished that these gentry also had a somewhat rosy opinion of Lucretia's chances. Her good gallop in the Brooklyn Handicap had been observed by other eyes than Crane's. Ten to one was the best offer he could get.

Dixon was remonstrating with a bookmaker, Ulmer, when the latter answered, "Ten's the best I'll lay--I'd rather take it myself; in fact, I have backed your mare because I think she's got a great chance; she'll be at fours race day. But I'll give you a tip--it's my game to see the owner's money on," and he winked at the Trainer as much as to say, "I'll feel happier about it if we're both in the same boat."

"It'll be on, sure thing, if I can get a decent price."

"Well, you go to Cherub Faust; he'll lay you longer odds. I put my bit on with him at twelve, see? If I didn't know that you an' Porter was always on the straight I'd a-thought there was somethin' doin', an'

Faust was next it, stretchin' the odds that way. How's the mare doin--is she none the worse?" Ullmer asked, a suspicious thought crossing his mind.

"We're backin' her--an' money talks," said Dixon, with quiet a.s.surance.

"Well, Faust is wise to somethin'--he stands in with Langdon, an' I suppose they think they've got a cinch in The Dutchman. Yes, that must be it," he added, reflectively; "they made a killin' over Diablo, an'

likely they got a good line on The Dutchman through him in a trial.

But a three-year-old mare that runs as prominent in the big Handicap as Lucretia did, will take a lot of beatin. She's good enough for my money."

Thanking him, Dixon found Faust, and asked of him a quotation against Porter's stable.

"Twelve is the best I can do," answered the Cherub.

"I'll take fifteen to one," declared Dixon.

"Can't lay it; some of the talent--men as doesn't make no mistake, is takin' twelve to one in my book fast as I open my mouth."

"I want fifteen," replied Dixon, doggedly. "Surely the owner is ent.i.tled to a shade the best of it."

"What's the size of your bet?" queried the Cherub.

"If you lay me fifteen, I'll take it to a thousand."

"But you want it ag'in' the stable, an' you've two in; with two horses twelve is a long price."

"I'm takin' it against the stable just because it's the usual thing to couple it in the bettin. It's a million to one against Lauzanne's starting if Lucretia keeps well."

Faust gave a little start and searched Dixon's face, furtively. The Trainer's stolid look rea.s.sured him, and in a most sudden burst of generosity he said: "Well, I'll stretch a point for you, Dixon. Your boss is up ag'in' a frost good and hard. I'll lay you fifteen thousand to one ag'in' the stable, an' if Lauzanne wins you'll buy me a nice tiepin."

His round, fat sides heaved spasmodically with suppressed merriment at the idea of Lauzanne in the Brooklyn Derby.

"They must have a pretty good opinion of The Dutchman," Dixon thought, as he moved away after concluding the bet. "I'm naturally suspicious of that gang, when they get frisky with their money. It's a bit like I've heard about the Sultan of Turkey always givin' a present to a man before cutting his head off."

The Trainer told Allis what he had done. He even spoke of his distrust at finding Faust laying longer odds against their mare than the other bookmakers. "But I don't see what they can do," he said, reflectively, studying the gra.s.s at his feet, his brow quite wrinkled in deep thought.

"The mare's well, and we can trust the boy this time, I think."

"Yes, you can trust Redpath," affirmed Allis, decisively. "If Faust is in with Langdon, as you say, it just means that they're goin' on their luck, and think their colt, The Dutchman, can't lose."

"It must be that," concurred the Trainer, but in a hesitating tone that showed he was not more than half satisfied.

"You backed the stable?" queried Allis, as an afterthought.

"Yes, an' Lauzanne'll have a chance to-day to show whether he's worth the pencil that wrote his name beside Lucretia's."

"You are starting him to-day? I had almost forgotten that he was entered."

"Yes, it'll give him a fair trial--it's a mile, an' there ain't no good horses, that is, stake horses, in the race. I'll put Redpath up on him, an' you might have a talk with the boy, if you like. You're onto Lauzanne's notions better'n I am."

Allis gave Jockey Redpath the benefit of her knowledge of Lauzanne's peculiarities.

"I'm afraid he won't take kindly to you," she said, regretfully; "he's as notional as most of his sire's line. But if he won't try he won't, and the more you fight him the sulkier he'll get. I wish I could ride him myself," she added, playfully; then fearing that she had hurt the boy's feelings by discounting his ability, added, hastily: "I'm afraid I've spoiled Lauzanne; he has taken a liking to me, and I've learned how to make him think he's having his own way when he's really doing just what I want him to do."

Redpath's admiration for Allis Porter was limited to his admiration for her as a young lady. Being young, and a jockey, he naturally had notions; and a very prominent, all-absorbing notion was that he could manage his mount in a race much better than most boys. Constrained to silent acquiescence by respect for Allis, he a.s.sured himself, mentally, that, in the race his experience and readiness of judgment would render him far better service than orders--perhaps prompted by a sentimental regard for Lauzanne.

The Chestnut was a slow beginner; that was a trait which even Allis's seductive handling had failed to eradicate.

When the starter sent Lauzanne off trailing behind the other seven runners in the race that afternoon, Redpath made a faint essay, experimentally, to hold to Allis's orders, by patiently nestling over the Chestnut's strong withers in a vain hope that his mount would speedily seek to overtake the leaders. But evidently Lauzanne had no such intention; he seemed quite satisfied with things as they were. That the horses galloping so frantically in front interested him slightly was evidenced by his c.o.c.ked ears; but beyond that he might as well have been the starter's hack bringing that gentleman along placidly in the rear.

"Just as I thought," muttered the boy; "this skate's kiddin' me just as he does the gal. He's a lazy brute--it's the bud he wants."

Convinced that he was right, and that his orders were all wrong, the jockey a.s.serted himself. He proceeded to ride Lauzanne most energetically.