“A murderer,” said Jim involuntarily. He gulped. Matters were getting worse by the minute.
“I’m no murderer,” said the man with indignant sincerity. “But I’m sure in the worst mess that ever happened to any man. The police are after me, I’m starving, and I don’t have any place to go. All of it’s an accident too.”
The man’s tone was full of so much woe that Jim felt a wave of sympathy sweep over him. Somehow he couldn’t help liking the man and believing in him. He didn’t look like a murderer.
“How did it happen?” Jim asked.
“I’m a horse trainer—one of the best in the country,” said the other proudly. “I’ve handled all kinds of horses, from big work teams to race horses. The last few years I’ve been training race horses. I was working for Mr. Medway and we had his horses at Churchill Downs just outside Louisville. Last Monday—it seems like a year—I was walking along outside the stables when I saw a jockey named Willie Fry in one of the stalls. I don’t suppose you know much about the things people do to horses now and then at race tracks, but this jockey was doping a horse. You can dope a horse several ways—you can give him something to make him slow and dopey so he can’t run well or you can give him a shot to make him all hopped up.”
“What’s that?” asked Jim, so interested that he forgot about the unloaded rifle.
“It’s just like a man taking snow-cocaine, any kind of dope. It makes him think he can do anything. Well, the same thing happens to a horse. A horse that’s hopped up can run much better than he would normally. It’s bad on his heart, bad all over for that matter. He’s apt to strain himself and be ruined. Sometimes a horse can run so hard he may go blind.”
“Was he giving a horse that kind of dope?” asked Jim, full of indignation.
“No, this was the night before the race and he was doping a horse to make him sick and slow. Judges can usually tell a horse that’s hopped up, but it’s hard to tell when a horse has been given something to make him sick or is just naturally not up to form. Well, I hate to see a horse doped or mistreated in any way. What made me even madder was that Willie was doping my horse. Redwing was the horse, and she was a sure bet to win the next day. I had most of the money I’d saved all summer on that race.”
“Why didn’t he want her to win?” asked Jim, puzzled.