"That's your hope talking now," said he, "and not your common sense. These race-track judges have been after The Sharpshooter a long time, but I notice he's still wearing an owner's badge and coming in at the free gate. He's a crook--no getting away from it--but he's got high-up friends." "Let him have 'em!" snapped Old Man Curry. "You know what Solomon says? 'Though hand join in hand, the wicked shall not be unpunished.' Let Engle have his pull; it won't buy him a nickel's worth with ole Maje Pettigrew. When he starts dealin' out justice, the cards come off the top of the deck and they lay as they fall. The major will get him, I tell you!" "I won't go into deep mourning if he does," said the Kid. "Al Engle is no friend of mine, old-timer. If he was overboard in fifty feet of water and couldn't swim a lick, I'd toss him a bar of lead--that's how much I think of him. He did me a mean trick once and I haven't got over it yet. He--say! Don't you feed that black horse, or what?" "Huh? _Feed_ him? Of course we feed him! Why?" "You don't feed him enough or he wouldn't be trying to eat up the top rail of the fence. Take a look, will you?" Sure enough, Fairfax was gnawing at the pine board; the grating rasp of his teeth became audible in the silence. After a time the horse dropped his head and gulped heavily. "Suffering mackerel!" ejaculated the Kid. "He ain't really _swallowing_ those splinters, is he?" The time came when the Bald-faced Kid recalled that Old Man Curry's next remark was not a direct reply to his question. After a careful survey of the black horse the patriarch of the Jungle Circuit spoke. "What Jimmy Miles don't know about hosses would fill a big book!" Ten days later Fairfax, running in Old Man Curry's colours and under the name of Eliphaz, won a cheap selling race from very bad horses--won it in a canter after leading all the way. The Bald-faced Kid, a student to whom past performance was a sacred thing, was shocked at this amazing reversal of form and sought Old Man Curry--and information. "I don't know how you do it!" said the youth. "All I can say is that you're a marvel--a wizard. This Fairfax----" "Eliphaz, son," said the old man. "Eliphaz. I got his name changed." "And his heart too," said the Kid. "And maybe you got him a new set of legs, or lungs, or something? Well, Eliphaz, then--do you know how fast that bird stepped the first half mile?" Old Man Curry nodded. "I reckon I do," said he simply. "I bet quite a chunk on him." "But of course you wouldn't open up and tell a friend!" The Bald-faced Kid was beginning to show signs of exasperation. "You're the fellow that invented secrets, ain't you, old-timer? You're by a clam out of an oyster, you are! Never mind! Don't say it! I can tell by the look in your eye that Solomon thought the clam was the king of beasts. What I want to know is this: how did that black brute come to change his heart at the same time with his name?"