"I guess it's all the same," remarked J. Rufus resignedly. "If you have a hoodoo over you you'll lose anyhow. I've tried to pick 'em forty ways from the ace. I've played with the dope and against it and lost both ways. I've played hunches and coppered hunches, and lost both ways. I've played hot information straight and reverse, and lost both ways. I've nosed into the paddock and made a lifetime hit with stable boys, jockeys, trainers, clockers and even owners, but every time they handed me a sure one I got burned. Any horse I bet on turns into a crawfish." The saddling bell rang. "You'd better hurry if you want to get a bet on Sausage," admonished the beautiful one, and J. Rufus, excusing himself, made his way down to the betting-shed, where he was affectionately known as The Big Pink, not only on account of his complexion but on account of the huge carnation Beauty Phillips pinned on him each day. At the first book he handed up three one-hundred-dollar bills. "A century each way on Bologna," he directed. "Welcome to our city!" greeted the red-haired man on the stool, and then to the ticket writer: "Twelve hundred to a hundred, five hundred to a hundred, and two hundred to a hundred on Bologna for The Big Pink. Johnnie, you will now rub prices on Bologna and make him fifteen, eight and three; then run around and tell the other boys that The Big Pink's on Bologna, and it's a pipe for the books at any odds." Wallingford chuckled good-naturedly. In other days he would have called that bit of pleasantry by taking another hundred each way across, at the new odds, but now his funds were too low. "Some of these days, Sunset," he threatened the man on the stool, "I'll win a bet on you and you'll drop dead." "I'll die rich if your wad only holds out till then," returned Sunset, laughing. With but very little hope J. Rufus returned to the grand-stand, where royalty sat like a warm and drowsy garment upon Beauty Phillips; for Beauty was on the stage a queen, and outside of working-hours a princess. Jake Block was still there, and making himself agreeable to a degree that surprised even himself, and he was there yet when Bologna, true to form, came home contentedly following the field. He joined them again at the close of the sixth race, when Carnation, a horse which the Beauty had picked because of his name, was just nosed out of the money, and he walked with them down to the carriage gate. As Block seemed reluctant to leave, he was invited to ride into the city in the automobile J. Rufus had hired by the month, and accepted that invitation with alacrity. He also accepted their invitation to dinner, and during that meal he observed: "I think, Miss Phillips, I'll go around and see _The Pink Canary_ to-night, and after the show I'd like to have you and your mother and Wallingford take supper with me, if you have no other engagement." "Sure," said Beauty Phillips, too eagerly for Wallingford's entire comfort; and so it was settled.