Jake's hand closed upon him. He was smiling a little but there was something relentless behind his smile. "Oh, just to please me," he said. "That's all." Bunny stared at him. "Chuck racing!" he said again. "Jake, you're mad!" "No, I guess not," said Jake imperturbably. "I'm not arguing any against racing. Played straight, it's the best game in the world. I'm just asking a personal favour of you. There's nothing to be hurt about in that." There was an ominous gleam in Bunny's eyes. He looked as if he were on the verge of open rebellion, but with his last words Jake's steady arm suddenly went round his shoulders and gave him a hard, brotherly squeeze. "Don't do it if you're going to hate me for it!" he said. "Reckon I can't afford that. I knew it was a gamble when I started. If I can't win, I'll back out right now." "Jake!" Quick feeling sounded in Bunny's voice. He turned sharply, and for an instant his cheek was against the kindly hand with the old boyish gesture of affection. Then he looked Jake full in the eyes and laughed. "Jake, I say, don't be a beast! You know I'll do anything under the sun to please you." "You'll do this?" said Jake. "Tell me why first!" said Bunny. "Because I want to know if you've got the grit for one thing. And for another--that girl who has just come here is a gambler to the backbone, and I won't have her encouraged." "How on earth do you know that?" said Bunny. "Did Charlie tell you?" "No." Jake's voice was grim. "You don't suppose I'd take his word for anything, do you? I saw it in her face this afternoon. I know that gambling fever, and she--well, I'm inclined to think she's had it in one form or another all her life." "She's quite a nice kid," said Bunny condescendingly. Jake smiled, but the firmness remained. "She's not your sort, Sir Bernard Brian," he remarked. "And I rather guess she could teach you more than you could teach her." "What do you mean?" said Bunny. Jake turned aside to shut the window in preparation for departure. "Well, sonny," he said in a marked drawl, "I guess I mean just that. If you aren't sharp enough to draw your own conclusions, that's none of my business." He turned round and looked at Bunny with absolute directness. "And that other proposition of mine,--did I understand you to fall in with it?" "Chuck racing for a year, you mean?" Bunny got up. His face was still red, but it showed no resentment. "It's rather much, isn't it, Jake?" "Too much?" questioned Jake. Bunny hesitated. "Well, a year! Make it three months!" he said coaxingly. Jake came to him, square and resolute. "I'll make it six months, Bunny," he said, "if you can tell me you didn't drop more than fifty pounds this afternoon." Bunny turned crimson. "This afternoon was an exception," he said hastily. "I thought so," said Jake dryly. "But--damn it!--it's rather a heavy penalty to pay," protested Bunny. He thrust out an impulsive hand. "I say, let me off, old feller! I won't do it again."