"Course, we're on a proposition now that you know more about it than I do; you certainly do take right hold at once--that was your pa's way, too. Daniel J. could look farther ahead in a minute than most men could in a year. I got to trust you wholly in these matters, and I know I can do it, too. I got confidence in you, no matter _what_ other people say. They don't know you like I do. And if there's any other things you know about fur sure--" "Well, there's Burman. He's plunging in corn now. His father has staked him, and he swears he can't lose. He was after me to put aside a million. Of course if he does win out it would be big money." "Well, son, I can't advise you none--except I know you have got a head on you, no matter how people talk. You know about this end of the game, and I'll have to be led entirely by you. If you think Burman's got a good proposition, why, there ain't anything like gettin' action all along the layout, from ace down to seven-spot and back to the king card." "That's the talk. I'll see Relpin to-day or to-morrow. I'll bet he tries to hedge on what he said. But I got him too straight--let a drunken man alone for telling the truth when he's got it in him. We'll start in buying at once." "It does sound good. I must say you take hold of it considerable like Dan'l J. would 'a' done--and use my money jest like your own. I do want to see you takin' your place where you belong. This life of idleness you been leadin'--one continual potlatch the whole time--it wa'n't doin' you a bit of good." "We'll get action, don't you worry. Now let's have lunch down-stairs, and then go for a drive. It's too fine a day to stay in. I'll order the cart around and show you that blue-ribbon cob I bought at the horse show. I just want you to see his action. He's a beaut, all right. He's been worked a half in 1.17, and he can go to his speed in ten lengths, any time." In the afternoon they fell into the procession of carriages streaming toward the park. The day was pleasantly sharp, the clear sunshine enlivening, and the cob was one with the spirit of the occasion, alertly active, from his rubber-shod, varnished hoofs to the tips of his sensitive ears. "Central Park," said Uncle Peter, "always seems to me just like a tidy little parlour, livin' around in them hills the way I have." He watched the glinting of varnished spokes, and listened absently to the rhythmic "click-clump" of trotting horses, with its accompanying jingle of silver harness trappings. "These people must have lots of money," he observed. "But you'll go in and outdo 'em all." "That's what! Uncle Peter." Toward the upper end of the East Drive they passed a victoria in which were Miss Milbrey and her mother with Rulon Shepler. The men raised their hats. Miss Milbrey flashed the blue of her eyes to them and pointed down her chin in the least bit of a bow. Mrs. Milbrey stared. "Wa'n't that Shepler?"