"The time has come," he said.

Without looking at him, Dolly nodded. She was far too tremulous to
speak.

For several weeks Dromedary had not been placed, and Carter hoped
for odds of at least ten to one. But, when he pushed his way into
the arena, he found so little was thought of his choice that as
high as twenty to one was being offered, and with few takers. The
fact shattered his confidence. Here were two hundred book-makers,
trained to their calling, anxious at absurd odds to back their
opinion that the horse he liked could not win. In the face of such
unanimous contempt, his dream became fantastic, fatuous. He decided
he would risk only half of his fortune. Then, should the horse win,
he still would be passing rich, and should he lose, he would, at
least, have all of fifty dollars.

With a book-maker he wagered that sum, and then, in unhappy
indecision, stood, in one hand clutching his ticket that called for
a potential thousand and fifty dollars, and in the other an actual
fifty. It was not a place for meditation. From every side men, more
or less sane, swept upon him, jostled him, and stamped upon him,
and still, struggling for a foothold, he swayed, hesitating. Then
he became conscious that the ring was nearly empty, that only a few
shrieking individuals still ran down the line. The horses were
going to the post. He must decide quickly. In front of him the
book- maker cleaned his board, and, as a final appeal, opposite the
names of three horses chalked thirty to one. Dromedary was among
them. Such odds could not be resisted. Carter shoved his fifty at