“I'll jest have a look at that broke rein,” said Gaynor; “that sthrap was strong enough to hang Diablo. If there's not some dirty business in this, I'll eat me hat. T'umbs up! but it was a gallop, though. The Black kin move whin he wants to.”
“But what do you think of old Lauzanne?” exclaimed Carter. “He just wore Diablo down, hung to him like a bulldog, an' beat him out.”
“It was the girl's ridin'; an' Lauzanne was feared, too. He's chicken-hearted; that's what he is. Some day in a race he'll get away in front av his horses, an' beat 'em by the length av a street. He'll be a hun'red to wan, an' nobody'll have a penny on.”
When they arrived at the stable Mike headed straight for the harness room. The light was dim, coming from a small, high, two-paned window; but Mike knew where every bridle and saddle should be. He put his hand on Diablo's headgear, and bringing it down carried it through the passage to a stable door where he examined it minutely.
“Jest what I tought. Look at that,” and he handed it to Carter for inspection. “How do ye size that up, Ned?”
“The rein's been cut near through,” replied Carter. “I wonder it held as long as it did.”
“A dirty, low-down trick,” commented Mike. “I'll hang it back on the peg just now, but don't use it again fer a bit.”
As he reentered the saddle room briskly his heel slipped on the plank floor, bringing him down. “I'd take me oath that was a banana peel, if it was on the sidewalk,” he exclaimed, after a gymnastic twist that nearly dislocated his neck. “Some of ye fellows is pretty careless wit' hoof grease, I'm thinkin'.”
More out of curiosity than anything else he peered down at the cause of his sudden slip. “What the divil is it, onyway?” he muttered, kneeling and lighting a match, which he held close to the spot. “Bot' t'umbs!” he exclaimed, “it's candle grease. Have aither of ye b'ys been in here wit' a candle? It's agin the rules.”
“There isn't a candle about the barn, an' you know it, Mike,” cried Carter, indignantly.