"'What dead one's name is on all them soovenirs?' I says, pointin' to
the tickets.
"'Mr. Blister,' he says, 'after our conversation yesterday I made
inquiry concerning the rights of a trainer. I was informed that a
trainer, as a paid employee, is under the direction of the owner--his
employer. You refused to allow my horse to win, contrary to my wishes.
You had no right to do so. I intend that he _shall_ win, and have
wagered accordingly--these tickets are on Alcyfras.' He's nervous 'n'
fidgity, 'n' his voice is squeakier 'n ever.
"'Well, Mr. Belmont,' I says, 'did you happen to give instructions to
any more of your employees, your jockey, fur instance?'
"'I have adopted the method you informed me was the correct one,' he
says, swellin' up. 'I gave a ticket at fifty-to-one calling for one
hundred and two dollars to Mr. Smith, and explained to him that I was
the owner.'
"Before Elsy gets through I'm dopey. I looks over his tickets 'n' he
figures to win eight thousand to the race. I have two iron men in my
jeans--I don't even go down 'n' bet it.
"'What's the use?' I says to myself.
"I can't hardly see the race, I'm so groggy from the jolt Elsy hands
me. Friendless breaks in front and stays there all the way. Lou Smith
just sets still 'n' lets the hoss rate hisself. That ole hound comes
down the stretch a-rompin', his ears flick-flackin' 'n' a smile on his
face. He wins by five len'ths 'n' busts the track record fur the
distance a quarter of a second.
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