The last race of the meeting was over when Old Man Curry emerged from the track office of the Rating Association. The grand stand was empty, and the exits were jammed with a hurrying crowd. The betting ring still held its quota, and the cashiers were paying off the lines with all possible speed. As they slapped the winning tickets upon the spindles, they exchanged pleasantries with the fortunate holders. "Just keep this till we come back again next season," said they. "We're lending it to you--that's all." Old Man Curry made one brisk circle of the ring, examining every line of ticket holders, then he walked out on the lawn. The Bald-faced Kid was sitting on the steps of the grand stand smoking a cigarette. Curry went over to him. "Well, Frank," said he cheerfully, "how did you come out on the day?" The boy stared up at him for a moment before he spoke. "You ought to know," said he slowly. "You told me to bet on that grey horse--and then you went out and beat him to death!" "Ah, hah!" said the old man. "I was crazy for a minute," said the Kid. "I thought you'd double-crossed me. I've cooled out since then; now I'm only sorry that you didn't know more about what your own horse could do. That tip made a tramp out of me, old-timer." "Exackly what I hoped it would do, son," and Old Man Curry fairly beamed. "_What's that?_" The cigarette fell from the Kid's fingers, and his lower jaw sagged. "You thought Elisha could _win_--and you went and touted me on to the other one?" Old Man Curry nodded, smiling. As the boy watched him, his expression changed to one of deep disgust. He dipped into his vest pocket and produced his silver stop watch. "Here's something you overlooked," he sneered. "Take it, and I'll be cleaned right!" Old Man Curry sat down beside him, but the Kid edged away. "I wouldn't have thought it of you, old-timer," said he. "Frank," said the old man gently, "you don't understand. You don't know what I was figgerin' on." "I know this," retorted the Kid: "if it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have to go to Butte alone!" "You've told her, then?" "Last night." "And I was right about the forgivin' business, son?" "Didn't I say she was going to Butte with me? We had it all fixed to get married, but now----"