he sat in his box, an eager crowd surged below. He had never known
such popularity. The crowd had read the newspapers, and such
head-lines as "He Cannot Lose!" "Young Carter Wins $70,000!" "Boy
Plunger Wins Again!" "Carter Makes Big Killing!" "The Ring Hit
Hard!" "The Man Who Cannot Lose!" "Carter Beats Book-makers!" had
whetted their curiosity and filled many with absolute faith in his
luck. Men he had not seen in years grasped him by the hand and
carelessly asked if he could tell of something good. Friends old
and new begged him to dine with them, to immediately have a drink
With them, at least to "try" a cigar. Men who protested they had
lost their all begged for just a hint which would help them to come
out even, and every one, without exception, assured him he was
going to buy his latest book.

"I tried to get it last night at a dozen news-stands," many of them
said, "but they told me the entire edition was exhausted."

The crowd of hungry-eyed race-goers waiting below the box, and
watching Carter's every movement, distressed Dolly.

"I hate it!" she cried. "They look at you like a lot of starved
dogs begging for a bone. Let's go home; we don't want to make any
more money, and we may lose what we have. And I want it all to
advertise the book."

"If you're not careful," said Carter, "some one will buy that book
and read it, and then you and Spink will have to take shelter in a
cyclone cellar."

When he arose to make his bet on Ambitious, his friends from the