"I've had the worst of it every time so far," said Hopwood, with a dejected shake of his head. "Every time. I swear I don't know what's wrong with that horse. He looks all right and he acts all right, but every time he starts something happens. They bump him into the fence or pocket him or he gets a clod in his eye and quits. He's been last every time but one and then he was next to last. I—I'm sort of discouraged, boys."
"Aw, never mind, boss!" chirped Little Calamity, one eye on the Kid and the other wandering in the general direction of the owner. "To-morrow is another day and there ain't a thing left in the nonwinner class for him to beat. All the good ones are gone. He worked fine this morning, and——"
"You've said that every time."
"Yes, but you're overlooking the muddy track!" Hopwood blinked in perplexity as the Kid came to the rescue with a new story.
"The muddy track? What difference will that make?"
"Listen to him! All the difference in the wide world!"
"Yeh," chimed in Calamity. "You bet it makes a difference!"
"You're forgetting that Last Chance is by a mudder out of a mudder," suavely explained the Kid. "His daddy used to win stakes kneedeep in it. His mother liked mud so well they had to mix it with her oats to get her to eat regular. What difference will it make? Huh! Wait and see!"
The owner rose, grunting heavily.
"I hope you're right this time," said he. "Lord knows I've had disappointments enough. When I bought this horse they guaranteed him to win at least every other time he started——"