“Did you get it on?” queried the latter.
“No; I don't like the look of it. Faust is holding out Lauzanne, and stretched me half a point about the mare. He and Langdon are in the same boat.”
“But that won't win the race,” remonstrated Danby. “Lauzanne is a maiden, and Porter doesn't often make a mistake about any of his own stock.”
“I thought I'd come back and tell you,” said Bob Lewis, apologetically.
“And you did right; but if the mare wins, and I'm not on, after getting it straight from Porter, I'd want to go out and kick myself good and hard. But put it on straight and place; then if Lauzanne's the goods we'll save.”
Lewis was gone about four minutes.
“You're on,” he said, when he returned; “I've two hundred on the Chestnut for myself.”
“Lauzanne?”
“It's booked that way; but I'm backin' the Trainer, Langdon. I went on my uppers two years ago backing horses; I'm following men now.”
“Bad business,” objected his stout friend; “it's bad business to back anything that talks.”