"Not with me!" they laughed. From stand to stand the layers of odds
taunted him, or each other. "Don't touch it, it's tainted!" they
shouted. "Look out, Joe, he's the Jonah man?" Or, "Come at me
again!" they called. "And, once more!" they challenged as they
reached for a thousand-dollar bill.

And, when in time, each shook his head and grumbled: "That's all I
want," or looked the other way, the mob around Carter jeered.

"He's fought 'em to a stand-still!" they shouted jubilantly. In
their eyes a man who alone was able and willing to wipe the name of
a horse off the blackboards was a hero.

To the horror of Dolly, instead of watching the horses parade past,
the crowd gathered in front of her box and pointed and stared at
her. From the club-house her men friends and acquaintances invaded
it.

"Has Carter gone mad?" they demanded. "He's dealing out
thousand-dollar bills like cigarettes. He's turned the ring into a
wheat Pit!"

When he reached the box a sun-burned man in a sombrero blocked his
way.

"I'm the owner of Red Wing," he explained, "bred him and trained
him myself. I know he'll be lucky if he gets the place. You're
backing him in thousands to WIN. What do you know about him?"