Bud pulled himself together and reined closer.
“Don't bet anything on this race, Jerry,” he advised “Or if you do, don't bet on Skeeter. But—well, I'll just trade you a little advice for all you've given me. Don't bet!”
“What the hell!” surprise jolted out of Jerry.
“It's my funeral,” Bud laughed. “I'm a chancey kid, you see—but I'd hate to see you bet on me.” He pulled up to watch the next race—four nervy little cow-horses of true range breeding, going down to the quarter post.
“They 're going to make false starts aplenty,” Bud remarked after the first fluke. “Jeff and I have it out next. I'll just give Smoke another treatment.” He dismounted, looked at Jerry undecidedly and slapped him on the knee. “I'm glad to have a friend like you,” he said impulsively. “There's a lot of two-faced sinners around here that would steal a man blind. Don't think I'm altogether a fool.”
Jerry looked at him queerly, opened his mouth and shut it again so tightly that his jawbones stood out a little. He watched Bud bathing Smoky's ankle. When Bud was through and handed Jerry the bottle to keep for him, Jerry held him for an instant by the hand.
“Say, for Gawdsake don't talk like that promiscuous, Bud,” he begged. “You might hit too close—”
“Ay, Jerry! Ever hear that old Armenian proverb, 'He who tells the truth should have one foot in the stirrup'? I learned that in school.”
Jerry let go Bud's hand and took the bottle, Bud's watch that had his mother's picture pasted in the back, and his vest, a pocket of which contained a memorandum of his wagers. Bud was stepping out of his chaps, and he looked up and grinned. “Cheer up, Jerry. You're going to laugh in a minute.” When Jerry still remained thoughtful, Bud added soberly, “I appreciate you and old Pop standing by me. I don't know just what you've got on your mind, but the fact that there's something is hint enough for me.” Whereupon Jerry's eyes lightened a little.
The four horses came thundering down the track, throwing tiny pebbles high into the air as they passed. A trim little sorrel won, and there was the usual confusion of voices upraised in an effort to be heard. When that had subsided, interest once more centered on Skeeter and Smoky, who seemed to have recovered somewhat from his lameness.