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Updated: May 21, 2025
"Let's wait till de kid's passed de scales; dere's no hurry. Dere won't be many drawin' down money over Larcen; he's an outsider." They were still waiting when the rumor of an objection floated like an impalpable shadow of evil through the enclosure. Old Bill's seamed face shed its mask of juvenile hilarity, and furrowed back into its normal condition of disgruntled bitterness.
He detected a look of incredulous unbelief in Mortimer's face, evidently, for he added, "You t'ink I ain't got no dough, eh?" He dug down into the folds of his somewhat voluminous "pants" and drew forth a fair-sized roll. "See? That wad goes to Larcen straight. I see him do a gallop good enough for my stuf; but dey got a stable-boy on him, an' dat's why he'll be ten to one.
"In a walk in a walk, I tell you!" fairly screamed Old Bill, clutching at Mortimer's arm; "didn't I tell you? We're a tousand to de good. Look at him, look at him!" He had climbed halfway up Mortimer's strong back in his excitement. "Look at de kid! Never moved in a walk, in a walk! Larcen all the way for a million!"
He had seen the slight mix-up when the Indian swerved in the straight. The objection must have to do with that, he thought. "What th' 'ell's th, difference," he said in fierce, imprecating anger; "de kid on Larcen didn't do no interferin', he jes come t'rough de openin' an' won-dey can't disqualify him." "What does it mean?" asked Mortimer; "what's wrong?"
First horse, I see him gallop like a good 'un. An' I'm a piker; I like a bit of odds fer my stuff." Mortimer saw the other occupants of the train moving toward the front end. "I guess we're dere," said his companion; "perhaps I'll see you on de course. If you make a break to-day, play Larcen; he'll win. Say, I didn't catch your name." "Mortimer." "Well, take care of yourself, Mr. Morton.
"De push's tryin' to steal de race; de favorite's beat, an' it's win, tie, or wrangle wit' 'em. If dey take de race away from Larcen we don't get de goods, see? Our t'ou's up de spout. Dere he goes, dere he goes; look at de knocker," as Langdon came down from the Stewards. Mortimer's heart sank.
Then The Dutchman, with his powerful stride, full of easy motion a tireless gallop that would surely land him the winner, Langdon thought, as he hung with breathless interest on every move of Westley's body. Up in the stand Old Bill was expressing in florid racetrack speech to Mortimer his deductions. "Days a good kid on Larcen. See what he's doin'; he's trailin' 'em.
"Larcen." "Do you mean Lauzanne?" "Yes, dat's it. I jes' heered it, an' I t'ought it was Larcen. You've got it straight, stranger. Say, are you wise to anyt'in'?" "Not about the horse; but I know the people the young lady; and they'll win if they can that's sure." "Dere won't be many dead 'uns in de Derby. First money's good enough fer most of de owners.
I'll clean up a t'ousand to-day say, I like your mug; you ain't no stiff, or I miss my guess, an' I'll put you, next a good t'ing, damme if I don't, an' you don't need to divvy up, neither. Dere's a chestnut runnin' in de Derby what dey call Larcen, an' I'm goin' to plank down a hun'red chicks on him."
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