Larry Glass discovered his protege on the rear porch engrossed with Miss Blake, and signalled him from afar; but the young man ignored the signal, and the trainer strolled up to the steps.
"Hello, Larry! What's on your mind?" inquired Speed.
"I'd like to see you." Glass, clad in his sportiest garments, seemed utterly lacking in the proper appreciation of a valet's position. He treated his employer with a tolerant good-nature.
Miss Blake excused herself and went into the house, whereupon her companion showed his irritation. "See here, Larry, don't you know better than to interrupt me in the midst of a hammock talk?"
"Oh, that's all right," wheezed the trainer. "As long as you didn't spill her out, she'll be back."
"Well, what is it?"
"I had a stomach-laugh slipped to me just now." He began to shake.
"So you broke up my tete-a-tete to tell me a funny story?"
"Listen here. These cowboys have got you touted for a foot- runner." This time Glass laughed aloud, hoarsely. "They have framed a race with a ginny down the block."
"All right, I'll run."