"Oh!" said he, loudly, "you mean in the stretch! Yeh, he had a swell chance till then—goin' nice, and all, but the bumping took the run out of him. He'll beat the same bunch like breakin' sticks the next time." Then, under his breath: "You're a pretty good guy after all!"
"Well," was the ungracious rejoinder, "don't kid yourself that it's on your account."
Since it was his practice never to accept the obvious but to search diligently for the hidden motive behind every deed, good or bad, Little Calamity gave considerable thought to the matter and at last believed that he had arrived at the only possible explanation of the Kid's conduct. "Boss," said he that evening, "did you bet any money to-day?"
"Not a nickel," was the answer.
"Or give anybody any money to bet for you?"
"No."
"Did anybody ask to be your bettin' commissioner?"
"No. Why?"
"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to know."
Before Little Calamity went to sleep that night he reviewed the situation somewhat as follows: