"Thay, Red," he said, "what'th good in thith?"
The red-haired tout wheeled like a man who's been touched on the shoulder by a deputy sheriff.
"You haven't got a minute!" he said, rapidly, to the little man with the straw-colored mustache. "It's th' baby o' th' year! Gimme three aces—two f'r you, an' one f'r me, an' in four minutes from date you'll be lookin' over th' sides of a balloon, chucking off ballast made out o' money."
The lisping little man with the straw-colored mustache smiled indulgently and pulled out a roll, from which he stripped a five-dollar note.
"That'th the thmalletht I've got, Red," he said, handing over the note to the tout. "Thay"——
He chopped off the question, however, for the tout made two bounds for the money-taker's window.
"Three on Rolling Boer, T. L. M.!" he shouted, giving the initials of the little man with the straw-colored mustache. "Th' other two on th' same, just plain R-e-d, Red, and both bets straight."
The man behind the desk grinned.
"High-ball mazuma for the house, Red," he said, twisting his mustache. "That one ain't got a look-in."
The tout was back at the side of the little man with the straw-colored mustache who believed in him just as the operator sung out: "Off at Gravesend!"