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Perhaps it would end ere the sun sank to rest in the Haller meadows. He must deem every hour that he was permitted to breathe as a gift, like the earnest money he, placed in the trainer's hand in a horse trade. According to human judgment the lightning should have killed him as well as the horse.

The opened jaws were within a foot of the trainer's throat when the muzzle of the pistol went between them, and Depew, coughing and choking, drew back, his throat scorched by the burning powder, his eyes momentarily blinded by the stream from a fire extinguisher, while Miller struggled to his feet.

Catching sight of Crane, he came quickly forward and whispered something in his ear. "Excuse me, I must go I'm wanted," Crane said to Allis. As he turned, the Trainer's sister spoke to him. "What's the matter, Mr. Crane there's something going on up in the Stewards' Stand?"

Later he learned from the wife of his trainer, a Frenchwoman, that those employed in his stables at Versailles who had not gone to the front at the approach of the Germans had fled, and that for three weeks his string of twenty-two horses had been fed, groomed, and exercised by the trainer's wife and her two little girls.

The tricks that the great cats do are clubbed into them, and the elephants' ears are often so torn by the trainer's iron that they hang in ribbons. It is only with the domestic animals, like the horses and the trick-dogs, that the trainer can exercise gentle persuasion.

There are some good horses in it, though, White Moth and others. However, I'll back The Dutchman to win fifty thousand, and there'll be ten thousand in that for you, Langdon, if it comes off." The Trainer's mouth watered. Money was his god. Horses were all right as a means to an end, but the end itself was gold.

"Water!" bawled Danny. A helper raced on with a slopping pail. Danny's fingers went exploring. "Ankle," groaned Benson, and Danny shot a triumphantly accusing look at Coach Robey. In a minute Benson was being helped off and the game was on again, but Mr. Robey showed a distinct aversion to meeting the trainer's glance.

"Don't forget, Bromfield. Keep outa this or you'll be sorry." His voice was like the crack of a trainer's whip to animals in a circus. For once Bromfield did not jump through the hoop. "Oh, go to the devil," he said in irritation, flushing angrily. "Better not get gay with me," advised Durand sourly. After the door had closed on him there was a momentary pause. The younger man spoke awkwardly.

This movement changed the trainer's sense of injury into anxiety. He renewed his remonstrances as to the folly of venturing into the night air, and cited many examples of pugilists who had suffered defeat in consequence of neglecting the counsel of their trainers.

When he goes through the paddock gate the day of the big race he's out of his trainer's hands; the man's got no more to do with the race himself than a kid sittin' up in the grand stand. Here's where I come in, if we mean to land the Brooklyn," and he looked searchingly at Crane, a misleading grin on his lips. But the latter simply joined in the laugh, doubtingly, perhaps.