I'm betting," he added to the others frankly, "on the chance that exercise and the liniment will take the soreness out of that ankle.

I don't believe it amounts to anything at all.

So if any of you fellows want to bet--" "Shucks! Don't go 'n-" Pop began, and bit the sentence in two, dropping immediately into a deep study.

The kid was getting beyond Pop's understanding.
A crowd of perhaps a hundred men and women--with a generous sprinkling of unruly juveniles--lined the sheer bank of the creek-bed and watched the horses run, and screamed their cheap witticisms at the losers, and their approval of those who won.

The youngster with the mysterious past and the foolhardiness to bet on a lame horse they watched and discussed, the women plainly wishing he would win--because he was handsome and young, and such a wonderful musician.