"He looks dry now," said Mose at length. "We'll rub him down with grass. See how easy it comes off an' don't leave no marks neither. Mebbe you betteh not say anythin' to yo' boss 'bout this." "Say, you don't think I'm a fool, do you?" "Sutny not! I see yo' a pretty wise kid, all right!" "If I could only get that reg'lar job you was talkin' about!" "It boun' to come, jock, boun' to come! You be steerin' 'em down 'at ol' stretch one of these days, sure! If we jus' had a li'l wateh, now, we could do a betteh job on 'is hawss." "He's shakin' a lot, ain't he?" asked Herman. "Nuhvous, thass all ail him. My side 'mos' clean a'ready; how you gettin' along?" Smiley Johnson stood at the entrance to his paddock stall shaking hands with acquaintances, slapping his friends on the back, and passing out information. "I don't know a great deal about this horse," he would remark confidently. "He wasn't much account last season--too nervous and high-strung. I'm only sending him to-day to see what he'll do, but of course he never figured to beat horses like Blitzen. Not enough class." Curly McManus forced his way into Zanzibar's stall and moved to the far corner where Johnson followed him. "Curry is in the betting ring," McManus whispered. "Well, what of that?" "He's betting an awful chunk of dough on Elijah; they're giving him 4 and 5 to 1." "The more he bets the more he'll lose." "But it ain't like him to unbelt for a chunk unless he _knows_ something." Johnson chuckled. "Most of his betting is done in books where I've got an interest. D'you think they'd be laying top prices on Elijah if they didn't know something too?" "I guess that's right, Smiley. You didn't warm this one up to-day. Why?" "It would make him too nervous: the crowd, and all." "He's fit, is he?" "Fitter than a snake! We're getting 8 and 10 to 1 in the pool rooms all over the Coast, and I wish we'd gone even stronger with him. Here comes Curry now. Listen to me kid him!" The old man entered the paddock from the betting ring, bound for Elijah's stall. Johnson halted him with a shout. "Well, old Stick-in-the-mud! You trying to-day?" "I'm always tryin'," answered Curry mildly. "My hosses are always tryin' too." "Wish you a lot of luck!" "Same to you, sir; same to you." "But everybody can't win." "True as gospel. I found that out right here at this track." Old Man Curry continued on his way as calm and untroubled as if his pockets were not loaded down with pasteboards calling for a small fortune in the event of Elijah's winning the race. His instructions to Little Mose were brief: "Get away in front and stay there." A few moments later Johnson and McManus leaned over the top rail of the fence and watched the horses on their way to the post. "That colt of yours looks a little stiff to me," said McManus critically. "Nonsense! He may be a bit nervous, but he ain't stiff." "Well, I _hope_ he ain't. Curry's horse looks good."