"Fair enough!" said the Bald-faced Kid. "Elisha's a good horse--a cracking good horse--but to-morrow's the end of the meeting and you've gone and saved him up to slip him into the toughest race on the card--on a day when all the burglars at the track will be levelling for the get-away money! You could have found a softer spot for him to pick up a purse, and, take it from me, the winner's end is about all you'll get around here. The bookmakers lost a lot of confidence in human nature when you pulled that horsehair stunt on 'em, and they wouldn't give you a price now, not even if you started a nice motherly old cow against stake horses. As for Elisha--the bookies begin reaching for the erasers the minute they hear his name! You couldn't bet 'em diamonds against doughnuts on that horse. They've been stung too often." "Maybe I wasn't aiming to bet on him," was the mild reply. "Then why put him up against such a hard game?" "Oh, it was a kind of a notion I had. I know it'll be a tough race. Engle is in there, and O'Connor and a lot more that have been under cover. 'Lisha is goin' a mile this morning. Better catch him when he breaks. He's off!" Whatever Jockey Moseby Jones thought of his orders, he knew better than to disobey them. He sent Elisha the distance, driving him hard from the half-mile pole to the wire, and the Bald-faced Kid's astounded comments furnished a profane obbligato. "Take a look at that!" said he, thrusting the watch under Old Man Curry's nose. "Pretty close to the track record for a mile, ain't it? And every clocker on the track got him too! If I was you I'd peel the hide off that nigger for showing a horse up like that!" "No-o," said Old Man Curry, "I reckon I won't lick Mose--this time. You forgot that Jeremiah is goin' in the last race to-morrow, didn't you?" "Jeremiah!" The Bald-faced Kid spoke with scorn. "Why, he bleeds every time out! It's a shame to start him!" "Maybe he won't bleed to-morrow, Frank." "He won't, eh?" The Bald-faced Kid drew out the leather-backed volume which was his constant companion, and began to thumb the leaves rapidly. "You're always heaving your friend Solomon at me. I'll give you a quotation I got out of the Fourth Reader at school--something about judging the future by the past. Look here: '_Jeremiah bled and was pulled up.' 'Jeremiah bled badly._' Why, everybody around here knows that he's a bleeder!" "There you go again," said Old Man Curry patiently. "You study them dad-burned dope sheets, and all you can see is what a hoss _has_ done. You listen to me: it ain't what a hoss did last week or last month--it's what he's goin' to do to-day that counts." "A quitter will quit and a bleeder will bleed," said the Kid sententiously. "And Jeremiah says the leopard can't change his spots," said Old Man Curry. "Have it your own way, Frank."