Beadle's Dime Library No. 211 — page 27: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

‘Colonel Plunger. + for all you’re worth. The horse is fit to run for a man’s life.” Frank stared at him. “‘Do you really mean it, sir?’ he asked, ‘I thought you were invincibly opposed to betting?’ “So Iam, so Tam on ordinary races,” said the old gentleman, flusbing slightly. ‘‘ You are quite right to remind me. But this is a different case. My horse is sure to win the race, and if any one is foolish enouch to put money against him it may as well be taken in.” “Then you only believe in betting on a sure thing?” observed Frank, inquiringly. “Certainly, certainly. It ceases to be a bet then. By the by, Noble, what’s the reason you haven’t been to ses us lately?’ Frank was more and more amazed. What did this mean? The Governor had been cold and haughty before; now he was overflowing with cordiality. Contrary to bis usual custom, too, he was in the spice appropriated to mem- bers, and his daughter was nowhere to be seen. Frank looked round, and answered: “Frankly, sir, because I fancied [ might not be entirely we'come. You seemed to he offended with me before for winning money on Ambition, so I lost some on Fanny Flyaway, and tbat seemed to anger you still more. I have had the pleasure of seeing Miss Bloodgood since then in the Park, and she has given me the cut direct. I hardly think you can well wonder at my keeping away after all that, aiy;* The Governor heard him through, and then said, gravely: ‘‘ What you have said is all true, but cir- cumstances have happened since then that have altered my opinion of you. Tell me, are you at liberty to dine at my house this evening?” “Certainly, Governor, with pleasure ” The young man could not conceal his delight at the overture. ‘Phen we will consider it an engagement. By the by, I understand that you will soon be of age.” * Yes, sir. Under my grandfather’s will I enter into full possession, by vircue of becom- ing twenty-five years uld, on the 9th of Sep- tembér; that is the day after to-morrow. You remember, you were a witness to the | will.” “True. Your grandfitber was a careful man, but a little prejudiced against real estate for an investment. I should like to talk a little business with you on that subject.” He seemed so familiar and friendly, so dif. ferent to what he had been before, that Frauk could not understand it, bat it was all very pleasant to him, and be was quite willing to resume relations with the Governor’s family, especially with the woman whom he felt every day that he really loved more, the longer he was parted from her. So he took a cordial leave of the Governor, and went down on the quarter-stretch to fol- low tbe old man’s advice and back Ambition, when he saw Colonel Plunger, surrounded by - a ring of turfmen, opposite to Crooke, the Boss Better, both men with open books in their hands. As he came near he heard the colonel say, with hardly a trace of foreign accent in his voice; “You know very well who I am, sir, and I know you too. I offer to put up the money in the hands of the president of this club, if you will do the same. I am quite willing to bet even with you, if I know the money to be safe, not otherwise,” The tarfmen looked at Crodke, who said: “It’s not the usual custom. I’m too well known for any one to think I shall run away without paying my debts.’ “At the same time it is also well known that you have lost heavily lately, and it is only fair that you should not be allowed to bet on credit. l ask none. Here is my money. Any amount you like, ten, twenty, a bundred thon- sand, if you wish, on Ambition, even. I ask no odds. Put up the money or stop. I am indifferent which.” *‘ Ay, ay, put up or shut up,” said more than one voice, and a man in the rear called out: “ Bolly for the Plunger! He’s the boy that has the nerve.” Crooke glanced round bim and saw that bis reign was over unless he could beat the Plunger, so, with an air of resignation, he “said: x.‘‘ Very well, if you put it that way, I am willing to bet. T’ll put all P’'m worth on Voy- ageur. Come up to the members’ stand, and Pil deposit the money. Half a million if you like, It takes a better man than you to back Phil Crooke down.” The colonel laughed, and inquired: ‘Is that correct? I thought last night and and the episode of the Decade Club had con- vinced you that I was just that very man. How does your hand get along?” The turfites looked at each other as if they wondered what he meant, and the gambler hastily exclaimed: : **T didn’t come here to talk. Money is the thing. Come along. I see our man over you- der,” The colonel bowed and followed him, and one of the turfites said to Frank: ‘What does he mean about the Decade? There seems to bs a good deal of feeling be- tween those two men.” Frank auswered him evasively, and then fol- lowed the two men to the president of the club, with whom was lodged an amount of money that made the oldest gamblers stare, and say to one another: “By Jove, that’s plunging for you. I’m out of that sort of thing. They must havé both come prepared for it.” For the money had been counted out in bills of ten thousand dollars each, and ten of these were lodged by each man in the hands of the stake-holder, Them ‘they saw Crooke walk away, rather paler than usual, with.a grave, thoughtful look on his face, and betake himself in the di rection of the stabl’s, whe-e he was seen con- versing with t':e trainer .f Voyageur, while the colonel went up on the members’ stand and said something to Governor Bloodgood, ‘at which the old gentleman smiled and an swered: ‘** Perfectly right, sir. doubled it, I only wish you had But I need not say—” ‘No, Honor, monsieur: That is our little affair. Till this evening.” And the colonel went away toward the stables, where he encountered Billy Boots, nut yet attired in his radiant jockey dress, but look- ing like a common stable boy, To Billy he said: “Well, has she come?” **No, boss, and I don’t understand it. He nor she ain’t been here, nor they ain’t paid me no money yet on the race.” ~ . ** Indeed?” - “Tm thinkin’, boss, that they’re countin’ on Voyageer bein’ the best hoss and goin’ to run a square race, If they do} they’re goin’ to get sucked in. That ho-s won’t stand the whip when he’s tired. Coax him, and he'll run like a good one, but he ain’t like Ambition. Why, boss; I’believe if that there hvss was a-dyin’ of presumption, he’d hobble up to the seratch end run on three legs, ruther’n not run at all. It's grit as takes a hoss through in a four mile race and Ambition’s got it, and the other hoss hain’,” **And you’re sure of your race?” ‘Sure, boss, if I kin bold the hoss in the fust mile. If hs runsaway, of course he mou’t bolt the track or suthin’, but I reckon 1 kin keep bim from that.” The colonel nodded and walked away, mut- tering to himself: ‘*T wonder what’s the matter now? Lester is not ths man to give up his grip like that. There’s some other plot hatching.” He explored the vicinity of the stables, but found no traces of the person be was searching for, Crooke’s wife—if wife she really were— Mary Madden, ex-dressmaker. Billy had told the colonel of his interview with Crooke and all that had happen:d, so that he fully expected to meet the gambler or his wife somewhere about the Bloodgood stables, trying to seduce Billy from his duty. Instead of that, the Boss Better was talking to the trainer of the rival horse, as he bad a right to do, and the colonel was puzzled as to what it all meant. The weighing bell rung, half an hour Jater, and still no signs of Mary. Billy Boots and Feenv, the jockey who was to ride Voyageur, sauntered to the paddock with their saddles, and it was on the way there that the boy received his first intimation of Crooke’s game. Feeny, a gray-beaded, wiry little man, whose utmost weight was pvever over ninety pounds sidled up to him on the way and whis- pered: ) | » Bay; Billy, you want to earn a cdol thou- sand?’ “In course I do,” responded the boy, who had been previously tutored by the colonel to pretend t» accept oll overtures. ‘*How’s it to be done? Who's findin’ the stamps for this racke! ?” ‘That's neither here nor there,” responded Feeny cautiously. “ve got ‘em, if you want to ’arn ’em.” ; ' “ You?’ retorted Billy with scorn, “Who'd trust you with a thousand? 1 ain’t no suckér, to be fooled with pritty stories. I want to see the stamps afore I talk.” en be ‘“Didn’t you gét your monéy for the Fanny Fiyaway racket?” asked Feeny. * Yes, if you want to know.” v. ‘Well then, the same nian’s standin” behind us now,” responded the old jockéy, in alow, cautious tone, ‘“Who? Crooke, do you mean?’ asked Billy in a loud voice, regardless of strangers, “Hush, ye darned fool,” said Feeny in a manner indicating alarm, ‘D’ye want all the wor'd to know our business?” “*No; but I want to know where my moiiey is to come trom.” ‘*From me, if you like. Tl give ‘you half now, and half arter the race if you'll jest talk bu: iness. reasonable,” Bs Feeny spoke very low, and Billy saw that he was afraid of being noticed; but the old jockey show ed him, in the pal of his hand, a folded greenback, as they went on to the paddock, and whispered: ‘“* It’s yourn, if you talk biz, and another like it, if you'll let Ambition have his head in the first mile.” “Is that all?’ asked Billy incredulously. **That’s all. Put bim in for all he’s worth on the first mile,” | And old Feeny slipped the bill into his hand and calmly went into the weighing paddock. - Billy followed, but not before he had glanced at *the bill in bis hand, and in the corner the capital D, that told him he held five hundred dollars to fullow the old jockey’s advice. As soon as he had beén weighed, he took bis: vw : ‘ way back to the stables, looking for Colonel Pluoger, but not seeing him. In his stead there was old Burton, the trainer, glum and surly as usual, but showing a certain politeness to Billy, with no symptoms of foul play about him, Ambition was brought out, full of life and spirits. and Billy ¢limbed | into the saddle to ride to the starting-post. As he did so, the horse gave a wild leap in the air which almost unseated the boy, and weut away at a gallop round the course, al). alone, In vain Billy pulled’‘at his bead, the bay seemed to be -porsessed with a sudden demon of viciousnéss, that Billy had never noticed in. him before. _ He stretched awsy at the top of his speed, shaking bis head from side to side, and occa- sionally kicking up, till the boy said to him- sell: “ There’s something the matter with the hoss: or the saddle. Which is it?’ Not till Ambition bad gone nearly three- fourtbs of a wiile did the horse slacken his prce, and then he bolted for the stable and carried Billy into bis stall, nolens volens, when the boy at last was able to tumble off and ex-~- aiiine the harness, As he had expected, there was trouble both in saddle and bridle. A small, sharp chestnut borr bad been stuck in the saddle stuffing, and the buok of the curb-chain had been broken off’ in a manner that showed it had been previous- ly filed througb. Billy set his teeth and muttered: “That’s the little game, is it? I'l! show them pretty soon.” He hastily examined the inside of the saddle before be replaced it, took a spare curb chaip from his pocket and made that part of the rig secure in as great a hurry as he dared exercise, ani finally rode out of the stable at a sharp . trot, to see the other horses at the post, the \ starter about to give them the word. Billy rode up with a tempest of cheers sounding round him from Ambition’s backers, who had been thinking, a moment before, that the horse had been drawn at the start. As the boy rode up beside Feeny, the old jockey grivuned and said: “Ye did that well, Billy. You kin have the best of the start.” ‘By gosh, I intend to get it,” muttered the boy, and as he spoks be managed to let his JOO SHalE Gomme