"We—I lost—plenty, thanks. Anyway, I'm proud of Flambeau. He was outrun, but he ran game to the last foot."
With Chetwood, Angus went to see Dorgan. On the way they came upon Gavin and Gerald French. The latter was tearing up a bunch of tickets. At sight of them he laughed, tossing the fragments aloft.
"Good paper—once," he observed. "Give you a check to-night, Chetwood."
"Give you mine, too," said Gavin, lighting his pipe. "Good race, wasn't it?"
"Rippin'," Chetwood agreed. "No hurry about settlements, you know."
"Oh, we may as well clean up," Gerald returned carelessly. "See you later."
"So you did bet," Angus observed to his companion as they moved on.
"I told you it was a sound scheme to get back what you lost. I was jolly right, too. The money is quite at your service if you need it."
"I've raised the money, thanks all the same."
"In the quaint idiom of the country, far be it from me to horn in, but if I'm not impertinent, how did you do it?"