“And your horse is going to win—eh, Mr. Plumb?”
“Yas, sir. He’ll win, hands down. You’ll see!”
“Pretty tough on Whitcomb, if he does,” laughed the gateman. “He’s put quite a wad on his own horse.”
“He’s goin’ t’ part with his wad all right,” said the farmer, wagging his head. “I ain’t a bettin’ man m’self; but I’m willin’ t’ put down fi’ dollars on it.”
“I take you,” said Mr. Todd, with an agreeable smile.
This small matter being adjusted, the genial insurance man walked quietly away through the crowd, humming a little tune to himself. Among the vehicles drawn up inside the enclosure roped off for teams, he caught sight of Jarvis, sitting alone, in his usual red-wheeled sidebar. Mr. Todd made his way among the crowd and presently paused at Jarvis’s side.
“Our young friend is here to-day,” he observed, in a low voice.
“Yes, I saw him come in with the boy,” Jarvis replied.
“Since then he appears to have got rid of the boy and acquired a girl.”
“Where is the boy?” demanded Jarvis sharply.