"Look here, Andy," said the owner, "there isn't a man with a horse in
this stake that doesn't think he's going to win; and when it's all over
we'll see Lucretia's number go up. Grant's a fool," he added,
viciously. "Didn't he break Fisher-didn't he break every other man that
ever stuck to him?"

"It's not Grant at all," replied Dixon, rubbing the palms of his hands
together thoughtfully--a way he had when he wished to concentrate in
concrete form the result of some deep cogitation--"it's Langdon, an'
he's several blocks away from an asylum."

"Langdon makes mistakes too."

"He cashes in often when he's credited with a mistake," retorted the
other.

"Well, I've played the little mare," asserted Porter.

"Much, sir?" asked Dixon, solicitously.

"All I can stand--and a little more," he added, falteringly; "I needed a
win, a good win," he offered, in an explanatory voice. "I want to clear
Ringwood--but never mind about that, Andy. The mare's well--ain't she?
There can't be anything doing with McKay--we've only put him up a few
times, but he seems all right."

"I think we'll win," answered the Trainer; "I didn't get anythin'
straight--just that there seemed a deuced strong tip on Lauzanne,
considerin' that he'd never showed any form to warrant it. Yonder he is,
sir, in number five--go and have a look at him."