Stuart came in all alone, and Peaceful was back in the ruck.
"I had my suspicions about that Stuart horse right along," said Busyday to himself. He had never seen the horse’s name until the evening before. "Don’t know why, but I kind o’ liked him. Probably because the Stuart were a pretty swift bunch," and he chuckled to himself over his humor as he made his way to the bookmaker’s line to cash.
"Somethin’ easy—like findin’ it, hey?" he heard buzzed into his ear as soon as he put his foot into the betting ring, and there was the old-faced young man, grinning complaisantly up at him.
Busyday handed to the shifty-eyed one, who stuck to him right up to the paying-off line, buzzing learnedly all the time about the race just ran, a $10 bill out of his $35 winning.
"Th’ next," said the red-haired wiseacre of the rail when Busyday had fought himself away from the cashing crowd, "is what you might call a one-hoss race. A one-hoss race, right."
"Lambent, of course?" said Busyday, looking at his piece of paper with the selections on it. Lambent was his handicapper’s selection.
The freckle-faced screwed the whole left side of his face up into one prodigious wink.
"Not this cage," said he. "Try the next. Lambent?" and he put one large, white, freckled hand over his face, as if to hide his confusion, and grinned through his fingers.
"Well, Lambent figures to win, doesn’t she?" asked Busyday weakly.
"Who, Lambent?" and the shifty-eyed smiled some more. "I’m goin’ t’ match her in a sweepstakes against me old aunt, and back me aunt off th’ boards fer a hog-killin’. There’s on’y one in this. Skinch. You can tap on it."
"Which one?" asked Busyday in a wabbly tone.
Again the aged youth bent over until his mouth was within a quarter of an inch of Busyday’s ear.
"Swiftmas," he replied. "Been saved up for a good thing, right. If he don’t buck-jump in, here’s me lid," and once more he extended his half-dollar straw hat for Busyday’s mastication.
"Well," said Busyday to himself between his teeth as he made his way through the jostling crowd to one of the bookmakers’ stands, "I guess I’m a weak and erring brother, all right, but danged if I don’t play that redhead once more, anyhow," and he got $40 for his $20 on Swiftmas to win. Swiftmas won by a head.