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Reasoned with and solaced himself to such good purpose, as he fondly imagined, that when, an hour and a half later, he established himself in the trainer's dining-room, a mighty breakfast outspread before him, he felt quite another man. Racing cups adorned the chimneypiece and sideboard, portraits of race-horses and jockeys adorned the walls.
Lastly, Julius did his utmost to exercise an influence for good over the twenty and odd boys at the racing stables an unpromising generation at best, the majority of whom, he feared, accepted his efforts for their moral and spiritual welfare with the same somewhat brutish philosophy with which they accepted Tom Chifney, the trainer's, rough-and-ready system of discipline, and the thousand and one vagaries of the fine-limbed, queer-tempered horses which were at once the glory and torment of their young lives.
Needless to say that Arthur Poe kept out of sight until Jack retired for the night. A trainer's life is not all pleasure. Once after the train had started from Princeton this same devilish Arthur Poe, as Jack would call him, rushed up forward to where Jack was sitting in the train and said: "Jack, I don't see Bummie Booth anywhere on the train. I guess he must have been left behind."
Joses, slobbering at the mouth, was shouting in the trainer's ear. Both men plunged into the vortex. "Easy all!" came Jaggers's priest-like voice. "Give him a chance, boys. We aren't beat yet." "Win, tie, or wrangle!" muttered Old Mat. "That's the Three J's all right." The mounted police were shepherding Chukkers off the course into the Paddock. There was murder in his face.
'A nigger says she's at the house, but I've just been up there 'n' they ain't even furniture in it. "'No, says the clerk; 'the furniture was sold to a New York collector two weeks ago. Miss Goodloe is livin' in the head trainer's house across the road yonder. She won't have that long, I don't reckon, though I did hear she's fixin' to buy it when the farm sells, with some money ole Mrs.
But deep in every man's heart, is the keen realization of the trainer's value, and his eager effort for their success. His athletic achievements and his record are well known, and appreciated by all. He is the pulse of the team. The scrub team at Princeton during my last year was captained by Pop Jones, who was a martyr to the game.
Kennedy, with grim, set face, uttered a stern command to Emperor, who for a brief instant had stood irresolute, as if pondering as to whether he should turn and plunge for the red silk curtains behind which his little friend had disappeared in the arms of the attendants. The trainer's voice won, and Emperor trumpeting loudly, took his way to his quarters without further protest.
The Trainer's admonition seemed like a cry to a cyclone, as void of usefulness. What power could the tiny dot lying close hugged far up on the straining black neck have over the galloping fiend?
By no possible supposition could this stranger, Fitzroy Simpson, have caused curry to be served in the trainer's family that night, and it is surely too monstrous a coincidence to suppose that he happened to come along with powdered opium upon the very night when a dish happened to be served which would disguise the flavor. That is unthinkable.
Simpson beat out the trainer's brains with his heavy stick without receiving any injury from the small knife which Straker used in self-defence, and then the thief either led the horse on to some secret hiding-place, or else it may have bolted during the struggle, and be now wandering out on the moors.
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