In the meantime the Colonel, in a quiet spot, had joined the jockey who had been discovered to take the place of drunken Ike. The unknown rider was wrapped closely in an ulster, from beneath which riding boots, unusually small, peeped, now and then, as the feet within them moved somewhat nervously about.
"All right, are you?" he inquired.
"I ain't afeared," the jockey answered, "but I'm powerful nervous. Never had on clo'es like these before, an'—don't you look at me!"
Strange talk, this was, for the jockey who was soon to ride Queen Bess for the capture of the Ashland Oaks and the salvation of the fortune of the house of Layson!
"Don't look at you!" said the Colonel, in expostulation, and, in the next sentence, revealed a secret which he was guarding carefully from everyone. "See here, little girl, you've got to face thousands and not wince, and you can't ride in that overcoat, either."
But the jockey wrapped the coat still tighter. "Oh, sho! That can't make no differ—just a little coat!"
"I tell you it's impossible. It would give the game away at once. Come, take it off. Practice up on me."
The jockey shivered nervously. "Reckon I will hev to. Say, turn your back till I am ready."
The Colonel turned his back, somewhat impatiently. The time was getting short. "All right, but hurry up."
The jockey pulled the long coat partly off, then, in a panic, shrugged it on again. "Oh, now, you're lookin'!"