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Updated: June 29, 2025
The latter had seen Alan Porter go up the steps, and realized he had made a mistake. Mike drew him inside the little enclosure that surrounded the stand. "There's Alan Porter wit' the Stewards," Gaynor whispered close to the man's face; "an' ye'll withdraw the objection at once. If ye don't ye'll have to settle wit' the Stewards fer tryin' to bribe the b'y Mayne to pull Lauzanne.
Halfway up the steps stood Langdon, and his coarse, evil face took on a look of unholy joy as Lauzanne was blotted into oblivion by the horses in front. "Pocketed, by God! Clever Mister Dixon to put up a kid like that ag'in Westley an' the others," he sneered. Then a deafening roar went up from the stand.
Of course he's sick from the dope, an' the others are a bit fast for him. If we put him in a sellin' race, cheap, he'd have a light weight, an' might do better." Porter walked on to Lucretia's stall, and the trainer continued in a monologue to Lauzanne: "You big slob! you're a counterfeit, if there ever was one.
Presently the boy spoke with sharp decision, in quick broken sentences, for they were nearing the Starter. "I'm in to make the running; this crock's got no license to win. Don't you bother about him he'll come back to the others fast enough when he's done. When you want an opening to get through just come bang into me I'll be next the rail; yell 'Lauzanne, an' I'll pull out.
"He's mistook, sir." answered Mike, respectfully; "there's Alan Porter standin' down there in the crowd. I'll sind him up, sir, an' ye can ask him yerself." Gaynor passed hurriedly down the steps, seized Porter by the arm, and whispered in his ear, "Tell the judge yer name that a b'y named Mayne rode Lauzanne. Quick now." Then he stepped up to Langdon.
When the starter sent Lauzanne off trailing behind the other seven runners in the race that afternoon, Redpath made a faint essay, experimentally, to hold to Allis's orders, by patiently nestling over the Chestnut's strong withers in a vain hope that his mount would speedily seek to overtake the leaders.
After winning on Lauzanne Allis had dodged the admiring crowd of paddock regulars that followed her. As Lauzanne was being blanketed she had kissed the horse's cheek and given him a mighty squeeze of thankfulness. How nobly he had done his part; good, dear old despised, misjudged Lauzanne. He had veritably saved her father from disaster; had saved her from from many things.
"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 crossed the lawn and leaned against the course fence, to take a deciding look at the mare and the Chestnut as they circled past the stand in the little view-promenade which preceded the race. His trained eye told him that Lauzanne was a grand-looking horse; big, well-developed shoulders reached back toward the huge quarters until the small racing saddle almost covered the short back.
There was such a tone of doubt in the Trainer's voice that even Mortimer noticed it. Neither was there much praise of the big Chestnut; evidently Mike did not quite approve of him, though hesitating to say so in the presence of his mistress. "Yes, Lauzanne is my horse," volunteered Allis. "I even ride him in all his work now, since he took to eating the stable-boy."
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