Though it had won only a single great race, that, in Jowett's view, was
its master's fault. As the Arabs say, however, Allah is with the
patient; and so it was that on the evening of the day in which Ingolby
met disaster, Mr. Tripple informed Jowett that he was willing to sell his
rawbone.
He was mounted on the gawky roadster when he met Gabriel Druse making for
the bridge. Their greeting was as cordial as hasty. Anxious as was the
Ry to learn what was going on in the towns, Jowett's mount caught his
eye. It was but a little time since they had met at Ingolby's house, and
they were both full of the grave events afoot, but here was a horse-deal
of consequence, and the bridle-rein was looseflung.
"Yes, I got it," said Jowett, with a chuckle, interpreting the old man's
look. "I got it for good--a wonder from Wonderville. Damned queer-
looking critter, but there, I guess we know what I've got. Outside like
a crinoline, inside like a pair of ankles of the Lady Jane Plantagenet.
Yes, I got it, Mr. Druse, got it dead-on!"
"How?" asked the Ry, feeling the clean fetlocks with affectionate
approval.
"He's off East, so he says," was the joyous reply; "sudden but sure, and
I dunno why.
Pages:
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196