One of young Nelson's colts in the last ring. Say," he added,
"he's game, all right. Me and him have done biz before. Know him?"
"Carter Nelson? Oh, yes; I know him," said Sandy, impatient to be rid
of his companion.
"Me and him are a winnin' couple," said Ricks. "We plays the races
straight along. He puts up the dough, and I puts up the tips. Say,
he's one of these here tony toughs; he won't let on he knows me when
he's puttin' on dog. What about you, Sandy? Makin' good these days?"
"I guess so," said Sandy, indifferently.
"You ain't goin' to school yet?"
"That I am," said Sandy; "and next year, too, if the money holds out."
"Golly gosh!" said Ricks, incredulously. "Well, I got to be hikin'
back. The next is my entry. I'll look you up after while. So-long!"
He shambled off, and Sandy watched his broad-checked back until it was
lost in the crowd.
That Ricks should have turned up at that critical moment seemed a
wilful prank on the part of fate. Sandy bit his lip and raged
inwardly. He had a wild impulse to rush back to Ruth, seize her hand,
and begin where he had left off. He might have done it, too, had not
the promenade happened to land Dr. Fenton before him at that moment.
The doctor was behaving in a most extraordinary and unmilitary way.
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