"In hers, you mean," he said. "Lou Dillon. What were her best times?"
Rensslaer ticked them off on his fingers.
"In 1903, at Cleveland, a mile in two minutes two and three-quarter seconds," he said; "the same year at Readville, two minutes dead, and the best of all, one minute fifty-eight and a half at Memphis. That's travelling for you, isn't it—though the last time was made with a pace-maker, and a wind-shield in front. But that doesn't get away from the fact that the distance was covered in the time."
"How wonderful!" Gay exclaimed, thinking into what insignificance paled Silver Streak's performance at Inigo Court against such lightning speed.
"Dan Patch, too, the champion pacer," said Rensslaer reflectively. "He paced to a record of one minute fifty-nine and a half, which stands, though his absolute best was one minute fifty-six and a quarter with a wind-shield in front. Star Pointer was another pacer who did the mile in one fifty-nine and a quarter, with no assistance. Then the best American tracks are mile tracks, and the English are all two laps to the mile. Horses which trot in England cannot equal the times they made in America, the tracks being at least five seconds slower—that is to say, a horse which can trot in 2.10 in the States is not likely to go faster than 2.15 on an English track when he comes over to England."
Carlton looked at the speaker keenly.
Like most great men, Rensslaer was the essence of modesty, and not one word had he said about his own stable, of certain famous horses that he had driven in England faster than their American records, driven with a superb skill that the public unfortunately seldom had a chance of appreciating, as he did not exhibit.
"Do record-breaking Trotters cost much?" inquired Gay, thinking of the modest five hundred that the Professor never ceased to quote as an instance of mad extravagance.
"As much as twenty-one thousand pounds has been given for a Trotter, and eight to twelve thousand pounds for a horse for driving on the road is quite common," said Rensslaer. "A nine-year-old gelding has been known to fetch six thousand, and is, of course, of no value after his remaining few years of soundness are over."
"Oh, how I wish the Professor were here!" cried Gay, and Rensslaer looked at her inquiringly, then said: