“Did you give your word that you'd buy the horse, father?”
“Then you'll take him, father. People say that John Porter's word is as good as his bond; and that sounds sweeter in my ears than if I were to hear them say that you were rich, or clever, or almost anything.”
“Lauzanne gets it!” called the eager grating voice behind them. “There go the numbers, Ned--three, five, ten; Lauzanne, The Dutchman, Lucretia. I knew it. Dick don't make no mistakes when he's out for blood.”
“He drew it a bit fine that time,” growled Ned, still in opposition; “it was the closest sort of a shave.”
Again there was more hurrying of feet as the Chestnut's backers who had waited in the stand for the Judge's decision, hurried down to the gold mart.
“You'll take Lauzanne, father,” Allis said, when the tumult had stilled; “it will come out right somehow--I know it will--he'll win again.”
John Porter stood irresolutely for a minute, not answering the girl, as though he were loath to go close to the contaminating influence that seemed part and parcel of Lauzanne, and which was stretching out to envelop him. He was thinking moodily that he had played against a man who used loaded dice, and had lost through his own rashness. He had staked so much on the race that the loss would cut cripplingly into his affairs.
“I guess you're right, Allis,” he said; “a man's got to keep his word, no matter what happens. I never owned a dope horse yet, and unless I'm mistaken this yellow skate is one to-day. I'll take him though, girl; but he'll get nothing but oats from me to make him gallop.”
Then Porter went resolutely down the steps, smothering in his heart the just rebellion that was tempting him to repudiate his bargain.
As he reached the lawn, a lad swung eagerly up the steps, threw his eye inquiringly along row after row of seats until it stopped at Allis. Then he darted to her side.
“Hello, Sis--been looking for you. Where's Dad?”
“Lauzanne!” and the boy's eyes that were exactly like her own, opened wide in astonishment.
“The deuce! I say, Allis, that won't do. Don't you know there's something wrong about this race? I just saved myself. I backed the little mare for a V--then I heard something. This Langdon's a deuce of a queer fish, I can tell you. I wonder Crane has anything to do with him, for the Boss is straight as they make them.”