[{1}]

Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1897 by Street & Smith, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C.

Entered as second class Matter at the New York, N. Y., Post Office.

Issued weekly. Subscription price, $2.50 per year. July 10, 1897.

No. 28. Street & Smith, Publishers. NEW YORK. 29 Rose St., N. Y. 5 Cents.

Nick Carter at the Track;
OR,
HOW HE BECAME A DEAD GAME SPORT.

By the Author of “NICK CARTER.” [{2}]

CHAPTER I.
DENVER BAY.

“And so, you see, I stand to lose twenty thousand dollars.”

“That’s a large sum.”

“Yes, Mr. Carter, it’s a large sum; but a middle-aged gentleman like yourself ought to be aware that risks are sometimes forced upon people who handle money in large sums.”

The celebrated detective smiled as he looked into the excited countenance of the Wall Street man before him.

Half an hour before, if the broker had seen him at all, he would hardly have referred to him as “a middle-aged business man.”

The detective had just returned from an expedition to the upper part of the city, during which he had appeared as a[{3}] verdant country boy of an inquiring turn of mind.

“Of course,” the detective said, slowly, “people who handle money for the profit of others are expected to keep it in motion—honestly in motion.”

He glanced keenly into his visitor’s face as he emphasized the last three words.

“My case is hardly what you suppose it to be,” said Mr. James Wheeler, broker. “The money I handle belongs to two heirs—both minors. With that, however, you have nothing to do.”

“You’re mistaken,” said Nick Carter, coldly. “If I am to handle your case I must have your fullest confidence.”

“Regarding my present venture, certainly, but I fail to see how past complications can interest you.[{4}]”

“I have always made it a point,” said the detective, rising to his feet, “not to engage in any case which is not entirely square and above-board. You come here with a statement that you have risked twenty thousand dollars belonging to two innocent children in the next Brooklyn Handicap, an illegal proceeding, and if you have done this for your own personal gain you have taken the first step toward a crime, and in that case I refuse to have anything to do with the matter.”

“Do you remember,” said Wheeler, putting out a hand to restrain the detective, who seemed about to leave the room, “about the recent daylight robbery in Wall Street, which resulted in the loss of twenty thousand dollars in cash?”

“Now you talk like a man of sense,” said the detective, resuming his seat and drawing a note-book from his pocket.

“Three weeks ago yesterday,” he continued, referring to the book, “the office of Mr. James Wheeler, broker, was entered during the noon hour by two men who claimed to be Texans seeking an investment. The broker was absent, and his clerks were careless.

“Result, when the Texans left, the broker was short exactly twenty thousand dollars. Have I stated the case correctly?”

The Wall Street man, sitting with his hands on his knees, stared in the detective’s face with a look of surprise mingled with consternation.

“Great God!” he exclaimed at length. “The matter wasn’t even reported to the police.”

“Very true. Perhaps you will have the kindness to tell me the reason why.[{5}]”

“It would have ruined me. My creditors, and especially the friends of these heirs, would have pounced down upon me in less than twenty-four hours.”

“And so, instead of facing the matter like a man, you endeavor to play even by staking money on the next handicap?”

“That’s it exactly, and I pledge you my word of honor that in doing so I only sought to restore to the children the money of which they have been robbed.”

“And now they are likely to lose forty thousand instead of twenty.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“What reason had you for supposing when you staked the money that Denver Bay would win the race?”

“To tell the truth, I was half crazy when I made the investment. In doing so I only followed the drift of public opinion regarding the horse.”

“Did you make the bet in the regular pool-room way?”

“Certainly not. The odds were two to one on Denver Bay, and no bookmaker would have taken such chances so long before the race. The bet was made with a down-town sporting man, for whom I frequently do business in a small way.”

“His name?”

“Peter Johnson.”

“One of the most notorious race-track sharpers in the country.”

“I was not aware of that at the time.”

“Well,” said Nick, with a smile, “I never knew a horse to win a race with such an outside bet on him, and all in the hands of one man, and that man a professional trickster.”

“I can see now how foolish it was, and I wish to place the matter entirely in[{6}] your hands. I am certain that the horse is to be fixed in some way so that he cannot win.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I have no definite information on the subject, it is true. As we say on the street, ‘It is in the air.’ No sporting man will touch the brute now, and those supposed to be on the inside are warning their friends not to risk their money on him.”

“It does look pretty black.”

“It looks pretty black, but I have every confidence in your ability to run the rumors down, and either see that there is a fair race or that the horse does not start at all.”

“It’s a risky business, and will cost considerable money.”

“I expect that; will you take the case?”

“I will take it on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“It in this: If you recover this money you will take the whole amount belonging to these heirs and invest it in some place where it will be beyond the reach of New York thieves and race-track sharpers.”

“You have my word on that. That is exactly the course I had decided upon.”

“Then there’s one other condition.”

“If it is not more difficult than the other I accede to it in advance.”

“That is, that if we discover crookedness on the part of these horsemen, you are not to drop the matter as soon as you are made whole. You are to stand up to the rack and help me to have justice done to them.”

“I will do that willingly.[{7}]”

“It may cause you some trouble in your brokerage business.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“That is all at present, then. You may see me at your office to-morrow. If a man calls and asks to see you in regard to Lackawanna admit him to your private room at once. You may not recognize me, but you can trust the man that mentions that word.”

After the departure of the broker the detective busied himself for some moments in the examination of a list of the many pool-rooms in the lower part of the city.

“It’s a tough job,” he thought, “but it will give me a chance to see the inside of some of these dens again.”

He stepped into an inner room, and in a few minutes returned in the guise of a cattle drover from the far West.

When he left his office shortly afterward he took the direction of Barclay Street, and soon entered one of the disreputable pool-rooms in the vicinity of that thoroughfare.

The place he entered was in a basement, and was foul, musty, and suffocating.

The place was crowded with men and boys of high and low degree, all half crazed with the gambling spirit.

The time was early in the afternoon.

From his position behind a large desk a tough-looking clerk was drawling out the names of horses with the odds which the proprietor of the place would bet against them.

It is generally supposed by the public that these pool-rooms merely conduct a commission business, and that the odds[{8}] offered there are the ones posted at the race track.

But this is by no means the case. The proprietors of the places bet according to their private ideas of the proper odds.

The rustling of greenbacks and the clinking of gold and silver were heard throughout the place as the detective entered.

“The race in which Denver Bay is entered takes place the day after to-morrow,” mused the detective, “and I’ll just see how he stands in this locality.”

“Say, podner,” he said, advancing toward a heavily-built man behind the railing, whom he knew to be the proprietor, “what odds d’ye give on Denver Bay?”

“Guess you’re from the West,” was the answer.

“Right from the West, and any time you want to know about the price o’ cattle just drop a line to Sol White to the Denver post-office.”

“Denver Bay’s from the West, too, isn’t he?”

“You bet he is, and he’s a good little hoss. What odds will you give me on him?”

“The Bay don’t count much of a figure on my books. The race ain’t on yet, you know, and you can’t tell yet what horses will start. But I’ll make a bet of two to one.”

“You can’t do business with me at that figger,” said Nick, turning away.

“Hold on!” said the sharper, pretending to look over the leaves of a note-book in his hand. “I’ll give you five to one if you want to back your favorite.”

“Ten to one would be nearer right.[{9}]”

“You can’t have much confidence in your horse.”

“’Tain’t my horse. I thought I’d drop fifty or a hundred just for luck.”

“A thousand to a hundred is a pretty wild bet.”

“You don’t have ter make it. Tell you what I’ll do. If you’ll make it fifteen to one I’ll go you a hundred.”

Nick Carter watched the face of the bookmaker as he made this proposition, and saw at once that he was pleased to get a bet even at such odds.

“All right,” said the bookmaker. “Put up your dust. Here’s your ticket.”

“If the horse don’t start, now,” said Nick, counting out the money, “I get this back, I suppose.”

“That’ll be all right,” said the other, in a non-committal sort of way.

“When I sell my cattle,” said Nick, resolved to learn still more regarding the pool-room idea of the horse, “I may want to bet some more.”

“I’ll take all the bets you want to make at that rate.”

“Will they let me see the horse?”

“You’ll have to settle that with the trainer.”

“Where is he?”

“In one of the stables near the track, I suppose.”

“Well, I guess I’ll go over to-morrow and see him. I’ll bet the hoss’ll know me like a book. Why, podner, I’ve rode behind him many a time.”

“W’at’s dat ye’re givin’ us?” asked one of the plug-uglies who infest that part of the city, crowding up against the detective.

In paying over the money Nick had[{10}] purposely exhibited a large roll of bills. He was positive that such a course would attract the attention of some of the sharpers about the place and would lead to some sort of conversation.

“I was jest a-sayin’,” he said, turning to the bully with a benevolent look, “that I’ve rode behind Denver Bay many a time.”

“Good little horse,” said the other, “but I think I can give yer a pointer or two on him.”

“Don’t give it away here,” said Nick, in a whisper.

“I don’t give nuthin’ away. I gets money fer pointers—I does.”

As he spoke he took the detective by the arm and led him to the meanly furnished bar-room in the rear of the place.

“I’ll jest tell you,” he said, as they stood at the bar with liberal glasses of whisky before them, “that yer want ter play dat hoss fer second place.”

“I’ve been playin’ him fer winner.”

“Well, you jest take my tip, an’ go ahead on it. It’s all right.”

The detective paid for the drinks, and turned away, but the other caught him fiercely by the arm.

“Hold on here!” he said, with an ugly look. “That tip’ll cost you just ten dollars.”

“I didn’t ask you for no tip,” said the assumed countryman, with a stare.

“Well, you got it just the same, an’ you’ll get somethin’ else, too, if you don’t cash up.”

“You won’t get no ten dollars from me.”

The bully struck viciously at the de[{11}]tective, who dodged away from him in a clumsy sort of way.

Nick was perfectly aware that the man meant business, and had no idea of coming to close quarters with him.

He well knew that a clinch of any kind would be likely to disarrange his disguise and thus expose his true identity.

With an oath the bully advanced again and struck a savage blow at the detective’s face.

Nick simply dodged his head this time, and striking before the other could resume his guard, laid his opponent senseless on the floor.

CHAPTER II.
A LITTLE CIRCUS.

The knockdown created very little excitement in the room.

Reports from the races were coming in every few minutes, and nearly every one there had more or less money at stake.

A few collected about the fallen man, however, and Nick had no difficulty in slipping quietly out of the way.

He had no idea, however, of leaving the place.

His bet had started a little ripple of talk regarding Denver Bay, and he knew that by remaining he might hear something to his advantage.

At the end of the basement farthest from the street were a number of stalls used by sporting men and others for private consultation.

As the crowd was now congregated around the main desk in front many of these stalls were empty.

Nick stepped noiselessly into one of them, and closed the door.[{12}]

A moment later any one glancing into the stall would have seen a half intoxicated countryman sitting with his chair tipped back against the wall, his hat pulled down over an inflamed face, and his feet resting upon the table.

Not a single trace of the well-to-do cattle drover remained.

“I may have to stay here a long time,” he thought, “and may as well have some cigars. Besides a whisky glass properly placed on the table can do no harm.”

The order was given and promptly filled.

The waiter by no means suspected that his seemingly inebriated customer was the person in quest of whom the now infuriated bully was roaring about.

Before leaving home Nick had left a note addressed to Chick, instructing him to call at the place toward which he was directing his steps, and he now awaited with some impatience the arrival of his assistant.

The afternoon passed slowly away.

The races were over, and the stalls were filling up.

In some of them people were dividing and spending the money won during the day, while in others angry losers were laying plans by which they might account for their sudden lack of funds.

After a time two men, evidently none too sober, entered the stall next to the one occupied by the detective, and ordered more drinks.

“It’s a bloomin’ shame for a feller ter drop his wad like that,” said one, in a maudlin tone, “specially when he’s on de inside an’ oughter know. But you lost[{13}] more’n I did, an’ I sympathize with you.”

“I don’t want none o’ your sympathy,” said the other, evidently a little nearer sober than his companion; “I’m broke now, but I can get plenty of money when I get over to the stable.”

“You’re a liar! you’re always workin’ that bluff about the stable. You don’t get any more stuff’n I do. Wot you got to do wid de stable, say?”

“W’at I got to do wid de stable?” said the other, in as sarcastic a tone as he could command. “I’m chambermaid for Denver Bay, I am.”

“You’re a nice man to be around a racing stable,” said the other, with an oath. “W’at do you know about a hoss?”

“You’re a sucker,” said the other. “You wait till the Denver Bay runs, and I’ll show you a wad.”

“You won’t get it on Denver Bay. You’re drunk, that’s what’s the matter with you. Doncher talk to me no more. You’re drunk.”

“You’re drunk yourself. You smell like a sour apple. Stan’ up like a man. Why doncher pack yer whisky like me?”

The last drinks had evidently been too much for the men, for Nick heard a fall as the speaker attempted to stand on his feet to show how sober he was.

Nick stood upon a chair and carefully raised his head above the narrow partition between the two stalls.

In his fall the one had carried the other down with him, and they were now clawing, chewing and punching one another in a drunken way.

In a moment they lay still, and after mumbling a curse or two fell asleep.[{14}]

“I’m in for it now,” thought the detective, again seating himself in a position so that the men could not leave their stall without being seen by him. “I must stay here all night if necessary in order to cultivate the acquaintance of that fellow who acts as ‘chambermaid’ for Denver Bay.”

Just at that moment the door of his stall was opened, and a greasy looking jockey shoved his face inside.

“You don’t mean ter say you’re goin’ ter smoke them cigars?” he said, taking one from the table, and breaking it in order to inspect its contents.

“Hardly. How long have you been here?”

“Oh, just about long enough to nose around in search of a certain green countryman,” said Chick, sitting down in a chair.

“Isn’t that a bold costume for this place?”

“Bold, why?”

“These people may want to know what stable you belong to.”

“Oh, that’s all right. I’m from the South, and I never rode a horse with a record.”

“That’ll do first rate. Just skip around in there, and see what you can find out about Denver Bay; but before you go take a look at the men in the next stall. We may have further business with them.”

Chick opened the door and looked in.

“Purty drunk, I should say.”

“Yes, and I’ve got to wait around here until they get sober enough to make friends with. One of them works at a stable I want to know something about.[{15}]”

Chick now left the stall and hung about the place engaging in conversation with any one who would talk with him.

In a half hour he was back with his report.

“There’s some scheme afloat in regard to Denver Bay,” he said. “They’re having great sport over an old sucker who came in here this afternoon and put up a hundred on him at fifteen to one.”

“Yes, I’m the sucker. Well, find out all you can. Don’t go far away.”

After a time Nick heard faint sounds in the adjoining stalls as though the drunken men were regaining consciousness.

As he peered cautiously over the partition one of them raised himself on his elbow, eyed his companion curiously for a moment, and then asked, in a sarcastic tone:

“W’ats de matter wid you? Had a death in de family? Or did yer gal run off wid de coachman?

“Oh, you’ve never been broke before. Well, you’d better keep quiet an’ let ’spectable people sleep, or I’ll put a charge of ’sturbin’ de peace on you. See? Hello, pardner,” he continued, as some one opened the door and walked in, “why don’t yer send in yer card?”

“You’re a couple of nice blokes!” said the new-comer. “I was afraid when you came over town that you’d get drunk. I’ll have you both run in if you don’t look out.”

“Run in nothin’. Dey can’t convict a man but once fer an offense, an’ I was put in jail thirty years ago for this same drunk. I’ll swear I haven’t been sober since. Just de same drunk all de time.[{16}]”

“How long has Amos been here?”

“All the afternoon.”

“Has he done any talking?”

“Naw. His tongue’s as thick as a Congressman’s head.”

“Well, you go out somewhere and get some supper. I want to talk with him.”

As the fellow slouched out, very much improved by his brief nap, the new-comer seized the man on the floor by the shoulder and shook him roughly.

“Wake up, here!” he shouted, in a shrill voice, in his ear.

Amos opened his eyes, and finally raised himself into a chair.

“What have you been saying this afternoon?” asked the other, sharply.

“Nothin’.”

“Did you tell that drunken brute, Hazelton, anything?”

“Not a thing, s’elp me!”

The man passed out of the stall and inspected the rooms on each side.

He found one stall empty, and in the other there was only a drunken countryman sleeping with his feet on the table and his chair tipped back against the wall.

“Now, then,” he said, sitting down again, “are you sober enough to understand what I say?”

“I’m all right now,” said Amos, who really appeared to be in fair shape. “Talk away, Martin.”

Martin talked in a low tone, which, however, was loud enough to be understood by the detective.

“It’s all fixed. The horse is to be let alone and remain in good shape until the last moment. He is to be fixed after he is brought upon the track.[{17}]”

“I don’t see how I’m going to do that.”

“It’s easy enough. The dose isn’t larger than a marble, and it’s rolled up in sugar, so he’ll take it fast enough. You can put it in his mouth just as you let go of the bridle at the start.”

“Is the owner posted?”

“Hardly,” said the other, with an oath. “The fool expects the horse to win the race.”

“Does he suspect anything?”

“No; he’s heard the talk, of course, but he thinks it a trick of the pool-rooms to keep his horse back.”

“How are de jockeys?”

“Why,” said the other, with another oath, “what do you suppose I got you in that stable for? If the owner had been in with the game, or if there’d been a jockey I could have depended on, I shouldn’t have needed you.”

“Well, I don’t like it a little bit. What effect will it have on de hoss?”

“It’ll just set him crazy for a minute or two, and he’ll bolt and kick and buck around just enough to lose the race.

“He probably will be all right in five minutes.

“You understand about keeping him away from the judges’ stand as long as possible, of course?”

“I ain’t goin’ ter ride him,” said the other, sullenly. “I only hope the boy that does won’t get his neck broken.”

“Oh, the boy’ll be all right. You just rush down the track when you see the break made, and fool around after the boy stops him until he has a little chance to get over the dose, so the judge won’t suspect anything. You understand now?[{18}]”

“Yes,” said the other; “I understand. I wish I hadn’t had anything to do with it. Have you got any money? I’m broke.”

“You won’t drink any more to-night?”

“Not a drop.”

“Well, here’s twenty-five dollars. I may not see you again till just before the race comes off.”

“I believe,” said Amos, as he took the money, “that Denver Bay would win that race if you’d let him alone.”

“In that case it would cost my man just forty thousand dollars.”

As Martin passed out of the stall the door was left open for an instant, and Amos stood directly in front of it with the greenbacks still in his hands.

Neither he nor Martin observed the greedy look which two shabby-looking fellows who were passing at the time cast upon the money.

But Nick Carter, from his position, took it all in.

“I’m in great luck again,” he thought. “If those two loafers are the kind of fellows I think they are I’ll have a chance to help that man out of a scrape before long.”

The next moment the two men advanced to the door of the stall occupied by Amos, and stepped inside.

It was now after dark, and the part of the room in which the stalls were situated was but dimly lighted.

There was still excitement enough around the cashier’s desk to attract the attention of those who still lingered in the place.

So there was really very little risk in[{19}] what the two men evidently intended doing.

As they advanced Nick leaped to the top of his table, but remained in such a position that no part of his body could be seen from the other side.

“Hello, pard,” said one of them, putting his hand familiarly upon Amos’ shoulder, “you’ve been lucky enough to-day to buy the drinks.”

“Yes, an’ hurry up!” added the other. “I’m mighty dry!”

“I lost every dollar I put up.”

“You’re lucky then to have such a fly-lookin’ chap hand you a roll like that.”

Amos sprang back and drew up his fist.

“If you come a step nearer I’ll knock you down first,” he said, “and then I’ll call the police.”

Both men drew billies and advanced toward him.

Just then a most unexpected thing occurred.

Nick Carter leaped lightly over the partition, landed upon the table between the combatants, and at once settled one of the ruffians by a well-directed kick under the chin.

The other, too astonished for a moment to make any movement of defense, was piled on top of his companion by a fist blow under his ear.

“Now, then,” said Nick, addressing the astonished horseman, “those fellows won’t lay long in that way, and we’d better get out o’ here mighty quick![{20}]”

CHAPTER III.
A LARGE BET.

The detective and Amos passed out of the stall and out of the place, leaving the two ruffians lying unconscious upon the floor.

As they reached the street Amos pointed with his finger toward the place they had just left.

“There’ll be a big racket down there,” he said.

“We won’t be in it,” was the reply. “Those fellows are two of the toughest thieves in the city.”

“You know them, then?”

“They were pointed out to me one day.”

“Well, I don’t think they’ll want to be pointed out to you again. You did some of the quickest work there I ever saw.”

“‘Quick’ work was necessary about that time.”

“You did me a good turn anyway. If I ever get a chance I’ll do as much for you.”

“You ain’t liable to get a chance. I’m going away in a few days.”

“You don’t live here, then?”

“I’m a farmer.”

“Where are you stopping?”

“’Most anywhere.”

“Why not come over and stay with me to-night?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Nick was more than pleased at his good fortune in getting within reach of the tricky sporting men’s tool so soon.

He suspected, however, that the man he was with would be followed by his scheming employers from that time until the race was over.

He was fully aware that men who commit crimes and engage others to assist them in their nefarious work never trust their tools implicitly.[{21}]

His first idea was to ascertain whether spies had actually been set upon his companion.

He also desired to know whether Chick was in a position to be within reach if needed.

In order to do all this it was necessary for him to leave Amos alone for at least a few moments.

“Look here,” he said, as they were starting up the street, “I’m a little anxious about those men down there. I’d like to know whether they are hurt much.”

“Well, we’ll go back if you like.”

“No, you step into this saloon, and I’ll go back alone. They know you there, but they don’t know me.”

Amos did as requested, and Nick started rapidly down the street.

In a moment he ran across Chick.

“I was looking for you,” said Nick, shortly.

“Here I am.”

“Did you see me leave the place with that man?”

“Sure; and it was a heap of fun to see the proprietor and the waiters wondering over the two men you left in the stall.”

“Are they badly hurt?”

“No, you can’t kill people of that stamp. One’s got a black eye and the other a lame neck.”

“Did any one shadow us out?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“The man who was in the stall before the two bums went in.”

“How is he dressed?”

“The same as before, only that he now has a light overcoat over his cutaway, and wears a slouch hat instead of the silk tie.”

“It’s just as I expected,” mused Nick. “The fellow is working for a man who has a good deal of money at stake, and he’ll never leave my man until he has him safe in bed.[{22}]

“Well, hustle into that saloon,” he finally said to Chick, pointing out the place where he had left Amos, “and see if you can find our man Martin in there.”

“You mean the man with the light overcoat and slouch hat?”

“Certainly. If he is in there, find out what he is doing. If he’s with Amos, get back here as quick as possible.”

“You want to keep those two fellows apart to-night?”

“Yes.”

The young fellow hastened into the place, only to dart out again the next moment.

“He’s in there giving Amos the razzle-dazzle.”

“What is he saying?”

“Why, Amos wants to get away from him, and he swears he means to stay with him until after some race or other.”

This was a puzzle.

Nick had made every calculation upon going to the stables with the fellow whom he had assisted. He wanted to know the place where Denver Bay was in training.

He had not yet decided upon what course to pursue after reaching the field of action, but was positive that once on the ground some means could be found by which the plotters could be circumvented.

By this time the detective had made up his mind to give the tricky sporting men a very hard deal. He was firmly of the opinion that Denver Bay would be the best horse in the race.

He believed that word had been passed around the inner circle of gamblers and sporting men that the Western horse would not be permitted to win, and he reasoned that they would lay almost any odds against the horse.

He thought that the best way to punish them would be to meet them on their own ground, and win their money.

Nick Carter is by no means a gamester or sporting man.[{23}]

He derives an immense income from his detective work, and has no inclination to make a break for sudden fortune.

In fact, were he worth as many millions as a Vanderbilt or a Gould he would still, for the very love of the business, be a detective.

“Well,” said Nick, at length, “if I do the work I have laid out for myself to-night we must separate those two men.”

“But how?”

“Well, I have a report to make to the fellow, and I’ll go in and call him aside. If he wants to get away from that chap I won’t have any trouble arranging it.”

“But if he doesn’t?”

“Then one of us’ll have to go over to the stables on his own hook.”

“Do you know where they are?”

“Oh, they’re out there by the track somewhere.”

Nick walked boldly into the saloon, and called Amos aside.