spoke of? Mulled it over? It don't take much thinking, I guess." He was
paring his mourning fringed nails with great indifference.

"No, it doesn't take much thinking, Dan," agreed Garrison slowly, his
eyes narrowed. "I'll rot first before I touch it."

"Yes?" The trainer raised his thick eyebrows and lowered his thin voice.
"Kind of tony, ain't yeh? Beggars can't be choosers."

"They needn't be crooks, Dan. I know you meant it all right enough,"
said Garrison bitterly. "You think I'm crooked, and that I'd take
anything--anything; dirt of any kind, so long's there's money under it."

"Aw, sneeze!" said Crimmins savagely. Then he checked himself. "It
ain't my game. I only knew the man. There's nothing in it for me. Suit
yourself;" and he shrugged his shoulders. "It ain't Crimmins' way to
hump his services on any man. Take it or leave it."

"You wanted me to go crooked, Dan," said Garrison steadily. "Was it
friendship--"

"Huh! Wanted you to go crooked?" flashed the trainer with a sneer. "What
are y' talking about? Ain't yeh a welcher now? Ain't yeh crooked--hair,
teeth, an' skin?"

"You mean that, Dan?" Garrison's face was white. "You've trained me,
and yet you, too, believe I was in on those lost races? You know I lost
every cent on Sis--"

"It ain't one race, it's six," snorted Crimmins. "It's Crimmins' way to