"He says it's all fixed up; everything framed; play him across the board. Come on!" The victim allowed himself to be dragged in the direction of the betting ring, and Old Man Curry watched the proceedings with a whimsical light in his eye. Later he found a chance to discuss the matter with the Kid. The last race was over, and Frank was through for the day. "You're persuadin' 'em pretty _strong_, ain't you, son?" asked the old man. "You used to give advice; now you're makin' 'em _take_ it whether they want to or not." "Where do you get that stuff?" demanded the Kid, bristling immediately. "Why, I saw you working on that big fellow in the grey suit. I was afraid you'd have to hit him on the head and go into his pocket after it. Looked to me like he wasn't exackly crazy to gamble." "Oh, him!" The tout spat contemptuously. "Do you know what that piker wanted to bet? Six dollars, across the board! I made him loosen up for fifteen, and he howled like a wolf." "The hoss--lost?" By the delicate inflection and the pause before the final word, Old Man Curry might have been inquiring about the last moments of a departed friend. The Kid was looking at the ground, so he missed the twinkle in the old man's eyes. "He ran like an apple woman," was the sullen response. "Confound it, old-timer, I can't pick 'em every time!" "No, I reckon not," said the patriarch. "I--reckon--not." He lapsed into silence. "Aw, spit it out!" said the Kid after a time. "I'd rather hear you say it than feel you thinking it!" Old Man Curry smiled one of his rare smiles, and his big, wrinkled hand fell lightly on the boy's shoulder. "What I was thinking wasn't much, son," said he. "It was this: if you can make total strangers open up and spend their substance for something they only think is there, you ought to get rid of an awful lot of shirts and socks and flummery--the things that folks can see. If you can sell stuff that _ain't_, you surely can sell stuff that _is_!" "I'm sick of the whole business!" The words ripped out with a snarl. "I used to like this game for the excitement in it--for the kick. I used to like to see 'em run. Now I don't give a damn, so long as I can get some coin together quick. And the more you need it the harder it is to get! To-day I had four suckers down on different horses in the same race, and a sleeper woke up on me. Four bets down and not a bean!" The twinkle had gone from the old man's eyes. "Four hosses in one race, eh? Do you need the money that bad, son?" For answer the Kid plunged his hand into his pocket and brought out a five-dollar gold piece and a small collection of silver coins which he spread upon his palm. "There's the bank roll," said he, "and don't tell me that Solomon pulled that line about a fool and his money!" The old man calmly appraised the exhibit of precious metals before he spoke. "How come you to be down so low, son?"