TAKING CHANCES.
It was the day of the spring races at Mystic Park, and Bethany was
filled with strangers. Horsemen, sporting men, sightseers, touts,
race-track gamblers, women in gay attire, and all the different kinds of
persons usually seen at a country horse race in the State of Connecticut
were on hand.
A number of Yale lads had come up to Bethany to attend the races. The
most of them were friends of Frank Merriwell. Some of his enemies were
there, also.
Frank had brought Nemo up himself, and he scarcely slept the night
before the races. He felt that there was danger in the air.
Nemo had been entered in the "free for all," and his name was on the
bills. Frank had been informed that he would be given odds that his
horse did not take a purse. He had received an anonymous letter
ridiculing him for thinking of entering such a horse. He had been
taunted and told that he dared not stake money on Nemo.
Merriwell knew well enough that there was a plot afloat, and it seemed
that the scheme was to make him lose money on his horse. If he had been
timid he would have hesitated about backing Nemo for anything; but the
ones who had been taunting him had reckoned well on his mettle, and they
had succeeded in pricking his pride and arousing him.
Frank had seen Nemo work on a track with Toots in the saddle. He had
timed the horse repeatedly, and he felt confident that Nemo could not
fail to take a position if he were in proper form when he entered the
race.
Frank sent for money. He demanded it. His guardian did not feel like
refusing, as he remembered that his last effort to suppress Frank had
resulted in a most painful train of incidents, the culmination being his
arrest for kidnaping a baby. He sent Frank a check for the sum desired.
When Bethany was reached Merriwell was approached by a tall, thin man,
who wore a Prince Albert coat and looked like a parson. This man
introduced himself as John Baldwin, and he proved to be very "smooth."
Frank knew in a moment that the stranger was trying to catch him for a
sucker. He felt like knocking the man down, but, instead of that, he bet
three hundred and fifty dollars against a thousand dollars that Nemo
would take a purse in the "free for all."
John Baldwin departed, apparently looking for other bloods who wished to
take flyers. But Frank was to see Baldwin again. The man came back and
in the most sneering manner possible, offered to let him out of his bet
for fifty dollars. He told Frank that Nemo was a "dead one" and could
not even crawl. The result was that Merriwell bet the man five hundred
even that Nemo would take a purse, and there were but three purses in
the "free for all."
After Baldwin departed the second time Frank regretted that he had not
booted the insolent fellow.
"Never mind," thought the lad. "I'll win his cash all right."
In the morning there was a row in the stable where Nemo was kept. Toots
was found vigorously punishing a flashily dressed negro.
"Tek dat, yo' dirty brack nigger!" shouted Toots, as he smashed the
other fellow on the nose. "Yo' cayn't com' 'roun' dis chile wid none ob
yere 'swinuations an' yore offers ob money to throw de race! I'll kick
part ob yore panjaloons clean out frough de top of yore hade, yo' brack
son ob a gun!"
The colored boy fought like a furious tiger, and the other fellow, after
trying to strike back a few times, took to his heels, leaving a smashed
silk hat behind him.
"What's the matter, Toots?" asked Frank, who had rushed to the scene of
the conflict, accompanied by others.
"Mattah, sar?" cried Toots, fiercely. "Why, dat brack whelp come call me
out ob de stall har, an' he says to me, says he, 'If yo' pulls Nemo so
he don' take a purse it am wuff two hundred dollars to yo'.' An' he
flashes his roll ob bills in mah face. I didn't wait fo' no mo'
conwersashun, sar, but I jes' soaked him a dandy under der ear."
"Good boy, Toots!" laughed Frank. "You're all right!"
"Well, w'en dey fools 'roun' dis chile dey strikes hot stuff," grinned
the boy.
Frank knew now that there was a "job" to knife him in the race.
Rattleton and Diamond were on hand, and they took turns in helping Toots
keep guard over Nemo.
Merriwell was angry. He went out looking for John Baldwin. When he found
Baldwin he offered to bet all the money he had about him that Nemo would
take either the first or the second purse. Baldwin snapped at the bet in
a manner that showed he believed he had a "soft thing."
"You'll go back to Yale broke," he sneered.
"Don't let that worry you," returned Frank, coolly. "It strikes me that
the fellow who is furnishing you with cash stands a chance of dropping
something."
"You say that very mildly. You're scared now."
"If I had more money about my clothes I'd put it all up."
"That shows what an easy thing you are. I'll take your paper against my
good money, and now you don't dare do a thing."
"How much do you want to risk that way?"
"Any sum you like."
"I'll go you for five hundred."
"Done."
Frank had made the original selection of stakeholder, and he had chosen
a man who was interested in the track, but was known to be perfectly
square. This choice had proved satisfactory to Baldwin.
Once more this man was hunted up, and he felt it his duty to caution
Frank. The boy simply smiled.
"Don't lose any sleep about me, Mr. Davis," said Frank, quietly. "It
isn't necessary."
Twenty minutes after this bet was made John Baldwin informed Evan
Hartwick.
"Good!" cried Hartwick, fiercely. "If I get hold of that piece of paper
I'll use it to ruin Frank Merriwell at Yale. I can do it! Nemo must be
fixed for fair!"
Then he rushed away.
"Oh, well!" said Baldwin, with a satisfied smile; "I don't care which
way the wind blows now. I have made my commission on this work to-day,
and I have nothing to lose. If those fellows slip up in their plans it
won't be my funeral."
Then he lighted a cigar and strolled away.
Rattleton and Diamond watched Nemo closely, permitting Toots to get an
hour's sleep. Then the colored boy came out feeling first rate, and
Merriwell showed up to take his friends to have something to eat.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed, with a happy laugh. "One of you fellows will
have to loan me the money to settle for the feed. I've staked every cent
on Nemo, and I haven't enough left to purchase a sandwich."
"Whew!" whistled Diamond. "Haven't you been plunging pretty steep, old
man?"
"Oh, I don't know!" smiled Frank. "We'll have money to start a
conflagration with when we return to New Haven."
"I think so," agreed Jack; "but there are slips."
"Now, Toots," said Frank, "we are going to leave Nemo in your care for a
short time. You know what I expect of you."
"Yes, sar, an' you may 'pend on me, sar."
"All right, my boy. Come on, fellows."
Away the three went, arm in arm, laughing and joking, like the
light-hearted fellows they were.
Ten minutes after they left Toots decided to give Nemo some water. He
stepped out of the stall for a bucket. As he picked it up he fancied he
heard a suspicious sound inside the stall, and he hurried back.
When the colored boy stepped into the stall he saw a tough-looking young
man in a plaid suit offering Nemo an apple. It was Mike Hogan.
"G'wan frum dat hawse, man!" shouted Toots, as he flung the bucket
straight at Mike's head.
The bucket struck Hogan, knocked him down, and he lay stunned almost
beneath the feet of Frank Merriwell's racer.
An hour later the starter's flag had fallen and the "free for all" at
Mystic Park had begun.
Among the spectators were three lads who were excitedly watching the
beginning of the race.
They were Hartwick, Harlow and Harris.
"If that horse is doctored I'm a fool!" declared Harlow, his eyes
fastened on Frank Merriwell's Nemo.
"He must be--he must be!" palpitated Hartwick, whose eyes were bloodshot
and whose face was flushed so that it betrayed he had been drinking
heavily.
"Nemo starts all right," said Harris, in an agitated voice. "I should
not wonder if Harlow were right, Hartwick, my boy."
"Then Hogan has betrayed me!" came gratingly from Hartwick. "If he has
I'll have his life!"
"Where is the fellow?" asked Harlow. "He should be on hand."
"That's right, where is he?" echoed Harris. "He has not reported."
"But he was sure he would not fail," said Hartwick. "He had everything
fixed with one of the stablemen, and he said he knew he could get into
Nemo's stall."
"All the same I'll wager that Frank Merriwell will come out on top
again," fluttered Harris. "It is just his luck. Perhaps he has outwitted
us in some way."
"No! no!" exclaimed Hartwick, with sudden satisfaction. "See--see there!
Already Nemo is dropping behind Black Boy. Pawnee is in the lead, Fanny
D. is second, Lightfoot is third, and now Black Boy has pushed ahead of
Nemo! Ha! ha! ha! Everything is all right! Hogan has done his work, and
the stuff is beginning to tell on Merriwell's racer at just the right
time. We'll send the fellow back to Yale penniless, and then I will
jump on him with his paper. I'll expose him as a race-track gambler, a
fraud, a swindler! I'll ruin his college career, as he ruined mine! But
I'll not be satisfied then. I'll hound him till he is weary of his life!
I'll make him remember the day he dared lift his hand against Evan
Hartwick! I can feel his blow now! It left a mark on my cheek. That mark
is not there now, but the scar is on my heart! Nothing can cure it but
full and absolute reprisal! This is my first triumph!"
Hartwick almost frothed at the mouth, and his reddish eyes glared as if
there were a glowing furnace within his passionate soul.
Evan's companions looked at him with awe, and Harris shivered a bit,
drawing a little away.
The passions of the revengeful lad had been wonderfully aroused by the
liquor he had taken, and he showed at his very worst just then.
"Toots does not seem to be pushing Nemo as he might," muttered Harlow.
"The boy is taking it easy. If I did not know the attempt had failed I
should think he had been bought off."
"Pawnee can't hold the lead," declared Harris. "I am willing to bet all
I have that he will not take the race."
"Hang Pawnee!" snarled Hartwick. "I do not care which horses secure the
purses, if Merriwell's animal is not one of them."
"Well, it begins to look as if you were safe," came with some
satisfaction from Harlow. "Black Boy is the favorite and he is crawling
now. Already he is neck and neck with Lightfoot."
Hartwick's hand shook as he adjusted the field glasses he held and
brought them to bear on the racing horses.
"It's all right. I know it's all right!" he muttered, hoarsely.
"Lightfoot is holding the lead on Nemo. Frank Merriwell's horse is
fifth, and the animal will not hold out to get around the track. I
believe Nemo is swaying now. The horses behind are gaining! Ha! ha! How
it will wring Merriwell's heart to see his beauty come in last!"
"This is early," cautioned Harris. "They have just reached the quarter
now. Wait till they pass us before you begin to count your chickens, old
man."
The spectators grew excited as the racing horses swung around the
half-mile track and came flying down toward the judges' stand on their
first round. Men waved their hats and cheered, the white handkerchiefs
of women were fluttering.
"Black Boy! Black Boy! He is the winner for a thousand!" roared a big
man in the grand stand.
"Fanny D.! Fanny D.!" shouted another. "She is taking the lead!"
This was true. Pawnee, as Harris had declared, proved unequal to the
task of holding the lead. In the second quarter Fanny D. crept alongside
and gradually forged ahead, for all that Black Boy's rider used whip and
voice.
Poor old Lightfoot was steadily losing ground, and Hartwick ground his
teeth as he saw Nemo come into fourth place. Still it did not seem that
Merriwell's horse had made a spurt.
And then, as the horses came thundering down the track, a sudden change
seemed to come over the black boy on Nemo's back. He leaned far forward,
and appeared to be talking into Nemo's ears, which were laid almost
straight back. He cut the air with his whip, but the lash did not fall
on the glossy coat of the handsome animal.
"Look!" palpitated Harlow. "See Nemo! The creature has awakened! That
horse is all right! Hartwick, I believe Merriwell will secure third
money, after all."
"Not on your life!" ground forth Evan, his eyes glaring. "The creature
is doing his best now."
As the foremost racers shot past the judges' stand at the expiration of
the first half, it was seen that Fanny D. had taken the lead away from
Pawnee, while Black Boy was steadily gaining. Although Nemo had shown a
streak of speed he had not grown dangerous.
But now came the time when the mettle of the racers was to be tested.
Black Boy responded nobly to whip and voice. He went ahead in a
marvelous manner. He was soon nose and nose with Pawnee, and then he
took second place, with his nose at Fanny D.'s flank.
But there was another change. Again the black boy on the back of Frank
Merriwell's racer leaned forward and talked into the ears of the horse,
and then came a spurt that caused hundreds of spectators to gasp with
amazement.
Pawnee struggled nobly to hold third place, but Nemo passed him, and
Evan Hartwick nearly choked with fury. Then it was seen that Nemo was
gaining on the others. He crept up beside Black Boy till they were
nearly even, and thus the two animals passed Fanny D. at the end of the
third quarter.
When the home stretch was reached Black Boy was leading by a neck, with
Nemo second and Fanny D. third.
Evan Hartwick was nearly beside himself with rage. The language that
came from his lips cannot be printed here. In vain his companions tried
to calm him. He cursed them both, and struck at them.
Then the voice of another person was heard.
"I slipped on the trick, boss. They caught me, and they didn't do a
thing to me--not a thing! My head was near broke and they made me take a
bite outer ther apple I was tryin' to feed ther horse. It'd killed me if
they'd made me eat ther whole of the apple. I'm sorry, but----"
It was Mike Hogan, his brutal face pale and drawn, if he were, indeed,
ill, and a bloody handkerchief tied about his head.
"Your head was near broken!" snarled Hartwick. "You bungling fool! I'll
finish the job!"
And then he hit Mike in the face with his fist. They grappled and fell,
and, as the other lads were trying to pull them apart, there came a
great shout that announced the race was over. The crowd was heard
cheering.
"Which won?" was the question Harlow paused to ask.
"Nemo came in first by a full length," replied a spectator.
Then Hogan was dragged off Hartwick, who lay pallid and still on his
back, looking as if the end had come for him.
Two nights later a jolly party gathered in Frank Merriwell's room to
offer him congratulations. There were speeches, songs, toasts and jests.
"How much will you take for Nemo now, Merriwell?" asked Jack Diamond.
"I want to buy him and send him South to my father."
"You can't," laughed Frank. "Your father hasn't money enough to buy the
dear old boy."
"But what are you going to do with him?" asked Rattleton. "You must
think of the future."
"Not now," smiled Merriwell. "To-morrow is my queen's birthday, and I am
thinking of the present."
Bruce Browning loafed into the room.
"Heard the news, fellows?" he asked.
"No; what is it?" cried several voices.
"Hartwick's been arrested."
"Arrested? What for?"
"For robbing his own father of seven thousand dollars. He knew how to
get at the old gentleman's dough, and he swiped it several days ago.
He's been burning money since then."
"Was the robbery committed before the Mystic Park races?" asked Frank.
"Sure, my boy."
"Then that explains why the mysterious man in black followed me up and
drove me into so many bets. He had Hartwick's money, and Hartwick was
behind the entire game. Well, all his plots miscarried and he got it in
the neck at last."
"Which served him right," declared Jack Diamond, with satisfaction.