Garrison.



CHAPTER IX.

A BREATH OF THE OLD LIFE.

Major Calvert's really interested desire to see his pseudo nephew
astride a mount afforded Garrison the legitimate opportunity of keeping
clear of Mr. Waterbury for the next few days. The track was situated
some three miles from Calvert House--a modern racing-stable in every
sense of the word--and early the next morning Garrison started forth,
accompanied by the indefatigable major.

Curiosity was stirring in the latter's heart. He had long been searching
for a fitting rider for the erratic and sensitive Dixie--whimsical and
uncertain of taste as any woman--and though he could not bring himself
to believe in Crimmins' eulogy of Garrison's riding ability, he was
anxious to ascertain how far the trainer had erred.

Crimmins was not given to airing his abortive sense of humor overmuch,
and he was a sound judge of horse and man. If he was right--but the
major had to laugh at such a possibility. Garrison to ride like that!
He who had confessed he had never thrown a leg over a horse before! By a
freak of nature he might possess the instinct but not the ability.

Perhaps he even might possess the qualifications of an exercise-boy; he
had the build--a stripling who possessed both sinew and muscle, but who
looked fatty tissue. But the major well knew that it is one thing