Thoroughbreds Part 6

John Porter stood irresolutely for a minute, not answering the girl, as though he were loath to go close to the contaminating influence that seemed part and parcel of Lauzanne, and which was stretching out to envelop him. He was thinking moodily that he had played against a man who used loaded dice, and had lost through his own rashness. He had staked so much on the race that the loss would cut cripplingly into his affairs.

"I guess you're right, Allis," he said; "a man's got to keep his word, no matter what happens. I never owned a dope horse yet, and unless I'm mistaken this yellow skate is one to-day. I'll take him though, girl; but he'll get nothing but oats from me to make him gallop."

Then Porter went resolutely down the steps, smothering in his heart the just rebellion that was tempting him to repudiate his bargain.

As he reached the lawn, a lad swung eagerly up the steps, threw his eye inquiringly along row after row of seats until it stopped at Allis. Then he darted to her side.

"h.e.l.lo, Sis--been looking for you. Where's Dad?"

"Gone to get Lauzanne."

"Lauzanne!" and the boy's eyes that were exactly like her own, opened wide in astonishment.

"Yes; father bought him."

"The deuce! I say, Allis, that won't do. Don't you know there's something wrong about this race? I just saved myself. I backed the little mare for a V--then I heard something. This Langdon's a deuce of a queer fish, I can tell you. I wonder Crane has anything to do with him, for the Boss is straight as they make them."

"Did you back Lauzanne then, Alan?"

"You bet I did; quick, too; and was hunting all over for the gov'nor to tell him. You see, I know Langdon--he comes to the bank sometimes. He's that slick he'll hardly say 'Good-day,' for fear of giving something away."

"Then how did you--how did people know there was something wrong?"

"Oh, a woman, of course--she blabbed. I think she's d.i.c.k Langdon's sister, and--"

"Hush-hh!" and Allis laid her hand on the boy's arm, indicating with her eyes the woman in the seat behind.

"I'd better go and tell father--"

"You needn't bother; he knows. It's a question of honor. Father said he'd buy the horse, and he's gone to make good."

"I wouldn't; that sort of thing will break a man."

"It's a good way to go broke, Alan. Perhaps we'd all be richer if it wasn't so strong in the Porter blood; but all the same, brother, you do just as father is doing to-day--always keep your word. I tell you what it is, boy"--and her face lighted up as she spoke--"father is a hero--that's what he is; he's just the biggest, bravest man ever lived.

He couldn't do a mean act. How did you get away from the bank, Alan?"

she said, changing the subject; "I didn't know you were coming to-day."

"Mortimer was light, and took on my work. He's a good sort."

"Does he bet?"

The boy laughed. "Mortimer bet? That's rich. We call him 'Old Solemnity'

in the bank; but he doesn't mean any harm by it--he just can't help it, that's all. If he had a stiff ruff about his neck, you could pose him for a picture of one of those old Dutch burgomasters."

"He's doing your work, and you're making fun of him, boy."

"You can't make fun of him, at him, or with him; he's a grave digger; but you can trust him."

"That's better."

"If I'd killed a man and needed a friend to help me out, I'd go straight to Mortimer; he's got that kind of eyes. Do you know why he's doing my work to-day?"

"Because you're away, I suppose."

"Because you recited that doggerel about The Run of Crusader."

"Alan! I've never spoken to Mr. Mortimer."

"That's why he choked the butcher the night of the concert--I mean--"

"You're talking nonsense, Alan."

"I'm not, I know when a man's interested. h.e.l.lo. Blest if the Boss isn't coming this way--there's Crane. See, Allis? I've a notion to tell him that his trainer is a crook."

"No, you won't, Alan--you're too young to gabble."

Philip Crane had evidently intended going higher up in the stand, but his eye lighting on the brother and sister, he stopped, and turned in to where they were sitting.

"Good afternoon, Miss Porter."

Allis started. Was the stand possessed of unpleasant voices? There was a metallic ring in Crane's voice that affected her disagreeably. He was almost a stranger to her; she hardly remembered ever having spoken to him.

He turned and nodded pleasantly to Alan, saying, "May I take this seat?

I'm tired. The Cashier let you oft for the day, eh?" he continued. "Came up to see your father's mare run, I suppose--I'm deuced sorry she was beaten."

"What are they waiting for--why have they taken the horses' numbers down again? Are they trying to steal the race from Lauzanne now?" It was the woman's voice behind them, petulantly exclaiming.

Crane turned in his seat, looked over his shoulder, and raised his hat.

"The impatient lady is my trainer's sister," he explained in a modulated tone to Allis. "A trainer is quite an autocrat, I a.s.sure you, and one must be very careful not to forget any of the obvious courtesies."

Allis wondered why he should find it necessary to make any explanation at all.

"I want to thank you, Miss Porter, for that reading about Crusader."

Allis's eyes opened wide.

"Yes, I was there," Crane added, answering the question that was in them.

As he said this a man came hurriedly up the steps, spoke to a policeman on guard, and searched the faces with his eyes. Catching sight of Crane, he came quickly forward and whispered something in his ear.

"Excuse me, I must go--I'm wanted," Crane said to Allis.

As he turned, the Trainer's sister spoke to him.

"What's the matter, Mr. Crane--there's something going on up in the Stewards' Stand?"

"I fancy there's an objection, though I don't know anything about it,"