88 CHARLIE SING. 



"I tell you he will win," said Ragan. 



Just think of that coming from a man that had 

 never seen the horse, so I completed the sentence for 

 him by adding "the banner." As Ragan shook his 

 head, I felt sorry for him. So I says : ''Old boy, last 

 winter when I was hungry you fed me. You even 

 chipped in to buy me an overcoat, so if you will listen, 

 I will put you next to a good thing. Bet what you 

 can afford to loose on Richardson (his full name was 

 J. B. Richardson, but no one but the starter ever 

 called him that) and he will romp home for you. As 

 for Del Monte, he will not be two six. It is worse 

 than a shell game to back him." When I had the 

 throttle wide open I told him of the races Richardson 

 had won at Cleveland, Buffalo and Utica, and what a 

 stiff fight he put up at Rochester when Geers bowled 

 him over with Frank Buford. He would not listen to 

 it and my chance of making twenty-five or fifty for 

 steering him went glimmering. 



On looking up the entry list I found that Del 

 Monte was in the 2 124 class. It was down for Wed- 

 nesday. The other entries were Graylight, Jeremiah, 

 St. Elmo, Company, Lucille's Baby, Eclipse and Wil- 

 liam Kearney. On paper it did not- look as though 

 he had a chance in five hundred, unless the balance of 

 them dropped dead or ran into the river. On the day 

 of the race Ragan popped . into the stall bright and 

 early. He looked like a winner, but that was in the 

 morning. I did not have anything to say, as I knew 

 my tip on Richardson was cold, while he sat on the 

 trunk and rubbed his hands after the style of a Jew 

 that had just sold a two-dollar suit for a ten-dollar 

 note. Finally Ragan could not keep quiet any longer 



