Allis nodded her head, knowingly.
“He's all right. So's the other one—the guy as has got the mun; he's got a bank full of it. I'm on to him; his name's Crane—”
Allis started.
“You don't know him,” continued the imp; “he's too slick to go messin' about. But if the old man promised you anything, see, God blast me, you'll git it. Not like that other skin-flint hole where you don't git nothin'. I stand in five hundred if our horse wins the Derby.”
“Do you ride him?” asked Al Mayne.
“Ride nothin'. I don't have to. I've did my job already.”
“I don't believe they'll give you five hundred for nothin',” said Allis, doubtingly, knowing that the boy's obstinate nature, if he were crossed, would probably drive him into further explanation.
“Say, you're a stiff. What'd the ole man want you to do—pull Lauzanne?”
Allis nodded.
“I knowed it. What was the use of stoppin' the mare an' let the Chestnut spoil the job?”