Thoroughbreds Part 40

x.x.x

Allis's visit to Ringwood was a flying one. Filial devotion to her father had been one motive, but not the only one. Her brother Alan's wardrobe received a visitation from hands not too well acquainted with the intricacies of its make-up.

John Porter was undoubtedly brightened by the daughter's visit.

Lucretia's defeat in the Handicap had increased his despondency. To prepare him gradually for further reverses Allis intimated, rather than a.s.serted, that Lucretia might possibly have a slight cold--Digon wasn't sure; but they were going to run Lauzanne also. Like the Trainer, her father had but a very poor opinion of the Chestnut's powers in any other hands but in that of the girl's.

"Who'll ride him?" he asked, petulantly. "It seems you can't trust any of the boys now-a-days. If they're not pin-headed, they're crooked as a corkscrew. Crane tells me that Redpath didn't ride Lucretia out in the Handicap, and whether he rides the mare or Lauzanne it seems all one--we'll get beat anyway."

"Another boy will have the mount on Lauzanne," Allis answered.

"What difference will that make? You can't trust him."

"You can trust this boy, father, as you might your own son, Alan."

"I don't know about that. Alan in the bank is all right, but Alan as a jockey would be a different thing."

"Father, you would trust me, wouldn't you?"

"I guess I would, in the tightest corner ever was chiseled out."

"Well, you can trust the jockey that's going to ride Lauzanne just as much. I know him, and he's all right. He's been riding Lauzanne some, and the horse likes him."

"It's all Lauzanne," objected Porter, the discussion having thrown him into a petulant mood. "Is Lucretia that bad--is she sick?"

"She galloped to-day," answered the girl, evasively. "But if anything happens her we're going to win with the horse. Just think of that, father, and cheer up. Dixon has backed the stable to win a lot of money, enough to-enough to--well, to wipe out all these little things that are bothering you, dad."

She leaned over and kissed her father in a hopeful, pretty way. The contact of her brave lips drove a magnetic flow of confidence into the man. "You're a brick, little woman, if ever there was one. Just a tiny bunch of pluck, ain't you, girl? And, Allis," he continued, "if you don't win the Derby, come and tell me about it yourself, won't you?

You're sure to have some other scheme for bracing me up. I'm just a worthless hulk, sitting here in the house a cripple while you fight the battles. Perhaps Providence, as your mother says, will see you through your hard task."

"I won't come and tell you that we've lost, dad; I'll come and tell you that we've won; and then we'll all have the biggest kind of a blow-out right here in the house. We'll have a champagne supper, with cider for champagne, eh, dad? Alan, and Dixon, and old Mike, and perhaps we'll even bring Lauzanne in for the nuts and raisins at desert."

"And the Rev. Dolman,--you've left him out," added the father.

They were both laughing. Just a tiny little ray of sunshine had dispelled all the gloom for a minute.

"Now I must go back to my horses," declared Allis, with another kiss.

"Good-bye, dad--cheer up;" and as she went up to her room the smile of hope vanished from her lips, and in its place came one of firm, dogged resolve. Allis needed much determination before she had accomplished the task she had set herself--before she stood in front of a mirror, arrayed in the purple and fine linen of her brother. She had thought Alan small, and he was for a boy, but his clothes bore a terribly suggestive impression of misfit--they hung loose.

Mentally thanking the fashion which condoned it, she turned the trousers up at the bottom. "I'll use my scissors and needle on them to-night,"

she said, ruthlessly. Thank goodness, the jockeys are all little chaps, and the racing clothes will fit better.

The coat was of summer wear, therefore somewhat close-fitting for Alan; but why did it hang so loosely on her? She was sure her brother was not so much bigger. A little thought given to this question of foreign apparel brought a possible solution. The undergarments she had tumbled about in her search were much heavier than her own. Her crusade had its side of comedy; she chuckled as, muttering, "In for a penny, in for a pound," she reincarnated herself completely, so far as outward adornment was concerned. Then she examined herself critically in the gla.s.s. The mirror declared she was a pa.s.sable counterfeit of her brother; all but the glorious crown of luxuriant hair. Perhaps she had better leave it as it was until she had met with the approval of Dixon--the terrible sacrifice might be for nothing. She wavered only for an instant--no half measure would do. "In for a penny, in for a pound." The slightest weakness in carrying out her bold plan might cause it to fail.

Twice she took up a pair of scissors, and each time laid them down again, wondering if it were little short of a madcap freak; then, shrinking from the grinding hiss of the cutting blades, she clipped with feverish haste the hair that had been her pride. It was a difficult task, and but a rough job at best when finished, but the change in her appearance was marvelous; the metamorphosis, so successful, almost drowned the lingering regret. She drew a cap over her shorn head, packed her own garments and a few of her brother's in a large bag, b.u.t.toned her newmarket coat tight up to her throat, and once more surveyed herself in the gla.s.s. From head to foot she was ready. Ah, the truthful gla.s.s betrayed the weak point in her armor--the boots. In an instant she had exchanged them for a pair of Alan's. Now she was ready to pa.s.s her mother as Allis in her own long cloak, and appear before Dixon without it as a boy. That was her clever little scheme.

Before going up to her room she had asked that the stableman might be at the door with a buggy when she came down, to take her to the station.

When she descended he was waiting.

"I'm taking some clothes back with me, mother," she said. "Let Thomas bring the bag down, please."

"You're getting dreadfully mannish in your appearance, daughter; it's that cap."

"I have to wear something like this about in the open;" answered Allis.

"But for traveling, girl, it seems out of place. Let me put a hat on you. I declare I thought it was Alan when you came into the room."

"I can't wait; this will do. I must be off to catch my train. Goodbye, mother; wish me good luck," and she hurried out and took her seat in the buggy.

x.x.xI

Some hours later Dixon, sitting in his cottage, oppressed by the misfortune that had come to his stable, heard a knock at the door. When he opened it a neatly dressed, slim youth stepped into the uncertain light that stretched out reluctantly from a rather unfit lamp on the center table.

"Is this Mr. Dixon?" the boy's voice piped modestly.

"Yes, lad, it is. Will you sit down?"

The boy removed his cap, took the proffered chair, and said somewhat hesitatingly, "I heard you wanted a riding boy."

"Well, I do, an' I don't. I don't know as I said I did, but,"--and he scanned the little figure closely, "if I could get a decent lightweight that hadn't the hands of a blacksmith, an' the morals of a burglar, I might give him a trial. Did you ever do any ridin'--what stable was you in?"

"I've rode a good deal," answered the little visitor, ignoring the second half of the question.

"What's your name?"

"Mayne."

"Main what?"

"Al Mayne," the other replied.

"Well, s'posin' you show up at the course paddocks to-morrow mornin'

early, an' I'll see you shape on a horse. D'you live about here--can you bring your father, so if I like your style we can have things fixed proper?"

The boy's face appealed to Dixon as being an honest one. Evidently the lad was not a street gamin, a tough. If he had hands--the head promised well--and could sit a horse, he might be a find. A good boy was rarer than a good horse, and of more actual value.

"I guess I'll stay here to-night so as to be ready for the mornin',"

said the caller, to Dixon's astonishment; and then the little fellow broke into a silvery laugh.

"By Jimminy! If it isn't--well, I give in, Miss Allis, you fooled me."

"Can I ride Lauzanne now?" the girl asked, and her voice choked a little--it might have been the nervous excitement, or thankfulness at the success of her plan in this its first stage.

"Do they know at home?" the Trainer asked.