The presiding judge answered the salute with a nod, but later when the rider was leaving the weighing room, he halted him with a curt command.
"Bring that tack up here, boy!"
The investigation, while brief, was thorough. The judges examined the saddle carefully for copper stitching, looked at the butt end of the whip, ran their hands over Calamity's thin loins and last of all felt in his bootlegs for wires connected with the spurs. All this time Jockey Gillis might have been posing as a statue of outraged innocence.
"Nothing on him," said the presiding judge shortly. "Hang up the official."
Jockey Gillis bowed and saluted.
"Judges, can I go now?" said he.
"Yes," said the presiding judge, "and don't come back. You're warned off, understand?"
"Judges," whined Jockey Gillis, "I ain't done a thing wrong. That old horse, he——"
"Git!" said the presiding judge. "Now where is that man Hopwood? If he bet much money on this race——"
The Bald-faced Kid was waiting at the paddock gate. He greeted Little Calamity with blistering sarcasm.