"Well, I don't see no reason for callin' it off." Old Man Curry's cheerfulness had returned, and as he spoke he drew out his old-fashioned leather wallet. "You know what I told you 'bout bad money, son--tainted money? You wouldn't take my word for it that gamblers' money brings bad luck; I just nachelly had to fix up some scheme on you so that you wouldn't have no bad money to start out with." He opened the wallet and extracted a check upon which the ink was scarcely dry--the check of the Racing Association for the winner's portion of the stake just decided. "I wouldn't want you to have bad luck, son," the old man continued. "I wanted you to have good luck--and a clean start. Here's some money that it wouldn't hurt anybody to handle--an honest hoss went out and run for it and earned it, an' he was runnin' for you every step of the way! Here, take it." He thrust the check into the boy's hand--and let it stand to his credit that he answered before looking at it. "I--I had you wrong, old-timer," he stammered: "wrong from the start. I--I can't take this. I ain't a pauper, and I--I----" "Why of course you can take it, son," urged the old man. "You said this game owed you a stake, and maybe it does, but the only money you can afford to start out with is clean money, and the only clean money on a race track is the money that an honest hoss can go out and run for--and win. No, I can't take it back; it's indorsed over to you." Then, and not before, did the Kid look at the figures on the check. "Why," he gasped, "this--this is for twenty-four hundred and something! I don't _need_ that much! I--we--_she_ says three hundred would be plenty! I----" "That's all right," interrupted Old Man Curry. "Money--clean money--never comes amiss. You can call the three hundred the stake that was owin' to you; the rest, well, I reckon that's just my weddin' present. Good-bye, son, and good luck!" A MORNING WORKOUT "Well, boss, they sutny done it to us again to-day. Look like it gittin' to be a _habit_ on thisyere track!"