On Monday, nearing noon, Wallingford dropped into a flashy café just off Broadway, where he knew he would be bound to find some one of his quartet. He found Short-Card Larry there alone, his long, thin fingers clasped around a glass of buttermilk.

“Hello, Wallingford,” he said, grinning. “Going out to the track to-day?”

“I’m not going to miss a race till the meeting closes,” asserted Wallingford. “I’ve a good one to-day that I’m going to send in a couple of hundred on.”

“What is it?” asked Larry.

“Governor.”

“Governor!” snorted Larry. “Who’s in the race with him?” He drew a paper to him and turned to the entries. “Why,” he protested, “there isn’t a plug in that race that can’t come back to hunt him.”

[Pg 202]

“That’s all right,” said Wallingford. “I’m for the National Clockers’ Association, and I’m going to play their picks straight through.”

“Here’s a match,” offered Larry scornfully. “Set fire to your money and save yourself the trouble of the trip.”

“Maybe you’d like to save it from the flames. What odds will you give me?”

This being an entirely different proposition, Larry began to think much better of the horse.

“Five to one,” he finally decided, after studying over the entries again. “Don’t know whether that’s the track odds or not. But you can take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it,” agreed Wallingford, and tossed his money on the bar.

Mr. Teller drew a check-book from his pocket, and Wallingford, glancing at the top of the stub as Larry filled out the blank for a thousand, noted with satisfaction the splendid balance that was there. Evidently the gang was well in funds. They had, no doubt, been quite busy of late.

“Of course you’ll cash that,” requested Wallingford, not so much on account of this particular bet as to establish a precedent.

[Pg 203]

“Sure,” agreed Teller; “although I’ll only have to deposit it again.”

“I’m betting the two hundred you don’t, remember,” said Wallingford, and they signed a memorandum of the bet, which they deposited with the rock-jawed proprietor, after that never-smiling gentleman had nonchalantly opened his safe and cashed Larry’s check.

On Tuesday morning, Governor having lost and Short-Card Larry having imprudently exulted to his friends over the two-hundred-dollar winning, Mr. Teller came around to Wallingford’s hotel with his pocket full of money to find there Badger Billy and Mr. Phelps, both of whom had come on similar business.

“I suppose you got his coin on to-day’s sure thing,” observed Larry with a scowl, he being one to whom a bad temper came naturally.

“Three hundred of it,” said fat Badger Billy triumphantly. “To-day he has a piece of Brie fromage by the name of Handicass.”

“Which ought to be called Handcase,” supplemented Phelps, and the two threw back their heads and roared. “The cheese is expected to skipper [Pg 204]home about the time the crowd realizes they’re off.” And they all enjoyed themselves in contemplation of what was going to happen to Handicass.

“Got any more?” demanded Larry.

“Not this morning,” returned Wallingford, accepting his r?le of derided “come-on” with smiling fortitude. “I want to save some for to-morrow’s bet.”

“You see,” explained Billy Banting, purring up his red cheeks with laughter, “Wallingford’s playing a system of progression. He hikes the bet every day, expecting to play even in the finish.”

“I see,” said Larry, grinning; “but don’t you fellows hook all this easy money. Count me in for a piece of to-morrow’s bet.”

He had a chance. Handicass ran to consistent form with all the other “picks”—except the one accident, Razzoo—of the National Clockers’ Association, and on Wednesday, Wallingford bet four hundred on the “information” which that concern wired to him and to Mr. Phelps. On that day, too, having received at breakfast-time a report from Beauty Phillips that the Whipsaw horse was still “meant,” he wrote careful instructions to Blackie Daw, then held his thumbs and crossed his fingers and touched wood and looked at the moon over the proper [Pg 205]shoulder, and did various other things to keep Fate from sending home one of those tips as an accidental winner on either Wednesday or Thursday.

Nothing of that disastrous sort happened, however, and his pet enemies, the quartet, having won from J. Rufus on Saturday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, had by this time pooled their interests and constituted themselves Wallingford’s regular bookmaking syndicate. Their only fear on Friday morning, after Phelps had received his wire from Boston, was that Wallingford would not care to bet that day, since the horse which had been given out was that notorious tail-ender, Whipsaw! They invaded J. Rufus’ apartments as soon as they got the wire, and were relieved to find that Wallingford was still firm in his allegiance to the National Clockers’ Association.

They were a little surprised, however, to find Blackie Daw at breakfast with Wallingford, but they greeted that old comrade with great cordiality, coupled with an inward fear that he might interfere with their designs upon Wallingford.

“You haven’t been making a book against J. Rufus on the day’s races, have you?” inquired Phelps.

[Pg 206]

“Not yet,” said Blackie, laughing, “but I’m willing. What’s he on?”

“Whipsaw,” interposed Wallingford.

Blackie laughed softly.

“I don’t know the horse,” he said, “but I just seem to remember that he’s the joke of the track.”

“No,” explained Larry; “he’s too painful to be a joke.”

“What odds do you expect to get, Wallingford?” asked Blackie, reaching for his wallet.

“Hold on a minute,” said Phelps hastily. “You don’t want to butt in on this, Daw. We’ve been making book for J. Rufus all week, and it’s our money. You hold stakes.”

“Don’t you worry,” snapped Wallingford, suddenly displaying temper; “there will be enough to go around. I’ll cover every cent you four have or can get,” and he pushed his chair back from the table. “This is my last day in the racing game, and I’m going to plunge on Whipsaw. I’ve turned into cash every resource I had in the world. I’ve even soaked my diamonds and watch to get more. Now come on and cover my coin.” From his pocket he produced a thick bundle of bills of large [Pg 207]denomination. “What odds do I get? The last time Whipsaw was in a race he opened at twelve to one and I ought to get fifteen at least to-day. Here’s a thousand at that odds.”

“Not on your life!” said Short-Card Larry. “I wouldn’t put up fifteen thousand to win one on any game.”

“What’ll you give me, then? Come on for this easy money. Give me ten?”

No, they would not give him ten.

“Give me eight?”

They hesitated. He immediately slid the money in his pocket.

“You fellows are kidding. You don’t want to make book for me. I’ll take this coin out to the track and get it down at the long odds.”

His display of contemptuous anger decided them.

“I’ll take my share,” asserted Short-Card Larry, he of the quick temper, and among them the four made up the money to cover Wallingford’s bet.

“Here’s the stakes, Blackie,” said Wallingford, passing over the money toward him. “You’re all willing he should hold the money?”

They were. They knew Blackie.

“Moreover,” observed Yap Pickins meaningly, “we’ll keep close to him.”

[Pg 208]

“Here’s another thousand that you can cover at five to one,” offered Wallingford, counting out the money.

Now they were as eager as he.

“We’ll take you,” said Teller, “but I’ll have to go out and get more mezuma.”

“All right. Bring all you can scrape together and I’ll cover the balance of it at two to one.”

For just one moment they were suspicious.

“Look here,” said Billy Banting, “do you know something about this horse?”

“If I did I wouldn’t tell. Don’t you know that I can get from fifteen to twenty at the track? Why do you suppose I want to make such a sucker bet as this? It’s because I’d rather have your money than anybody else’s; because I want to break you!”

He was fairly trembling with simulated anger now.

“If that’s the case you’ll be accommodated,” said Teller with an oath. “Come on, boys; we’ll bring up a chunk of money that’ll stop all this four-flush conversation.”

Mr. Phelps, having already “produced to his limit,” stayed with Wallingford while the others went out. First of all, they dropped in [Pg 209]at a quiet pool-room where they were known, and made inquiries about Whipsaw. They were answered by a laugh, and an offer to “take them on for all they wanted at their own odds,” and, reassured, they scattered, to raise all the money they could. They returned in the course of an hour and counted down a sum larger than Wallingford had thought the four of them could control. He was to find out later that they had not only converted their bank accounts and all their other holdings into currency, but had borrowed all their credit would stand wherever they were known. Wallingford, covering their first five thousand with one, calmly counted out an amount equal to one-half of all the rest they had put down, passed it over to Blackie to hold, then flaunted more money in their faces.

“This is at evens if you can scrape up any more,” he offered sneeringly. &ldqu............