"Number seven," answered Marion, and Duncan looked at his card to see what horse it was. "Orion," he said, "and his colors are purple and white."
"My husband's university colors; that ought to bring me luck."
"Not on Orion, I am afraid," interrupted Sedger, who prided himself on his knowledge of the turf. "He was a 'twenty-to-one shot' in town last night, but I'll be generous and give you two dollars for him."
"No, I prefer to keep him. Orion may prove a lucky star after all."
"By Jove, they're off!" shouted Duncan, who had been watching the horses at the post on the other side of the course. They were all well bunched, the red flag dropped, and away they scampered on a five-furlong dash.
"Orion's last, Mrs. Sanderson," called Sedger, who was following the race with a large pair of russet-leathered field-glasses. "Orion's last, but I'll give you a dollar for your chance."
"Don't take it, Mrs. Sanderson, he's coming up," said Duncan, as the horses dashed around the first turn, scattering a cloud of dust behind them. Then the crowd in front of the Grand Stand began to surge and sway, and the sea of ten thousand hats was lashed to excitement. A murmur broke forth from the distant crowd as a mass of color and racers emerged from the dust and rushed down the home stretch; then the cheering grew louder and the hats swayed more furiously as the horses dashed on to the finish.
"Look at Orion now," said Duncan, "he's a good second. By Jove, he wins!" he shouted, as the purple and white rushed to the front and won hands down by a neck. "I congratulate you, Mrs. Sanderson."
"Who would have thought the brute could beat 'The Wizard' who sold at two to one on" said Sedger, and then he suggested that the men should go to the betting ring and play the Derby.
Duncan turned to Marion and asked if she would not choose him a horse to play. "You are so lucky that I feel sure of winning," he added.