“Why, he’s been with us often—a jolly good fellow he was, too, full of life and—”
“Was he married?” interrupted the stranger.
“No—that is, I think not,” said the Major, “for I heard something once to the effect that he was much in love with Judge Taggart’s daughter. By the way,” he continued, “that young lady is, I believe, married now.”
“Yes,” replied the stranger. “I knew her—Miss Cassie.”
“They’re off!” came the shout from the crowd below, and instantly there was a general careening of necks from the balcony. A minute later and the crowd below surged toward the railing of the track and gathered about the judges’ stand, as the horses rushed toward the wire.
Then there was a wild commotion, followed later by a general movement in the direction of the “board pencilers.”
Thus the evening passed on, race by race, with a repetition of the usual scenes and events, until at last there sounded the bugle call for the handicap.
There was a distinct bustle and stir now among the expectant throng, which said plainly that the race of the evening was about to come off.
“Colonel Townsend,” asked the Major, “have you seen Grannan since his arrival to-day?”
“Yes,” responded the Colonel. “I had a short talk with him this morning. I’m sorry for Grannan,” he continued, “he has been singularly unlucky of late, and he says there seems to be no end of it.”