Frank shook his head, but smiled at the old darkey, touched alike by his devotion to himself and confidence in the mare they both loved.  “No, no, Neb; not your money,” he replied.  He stood in deep thought, for a moment, tapping the ground nervously with worried foot.  “But I’ll back the mare for all I’m worth!” he finally declared.  “If she loses, I’m a ruined man, anyway.”  He turned, now, to Holton.  “Holton,” he said, “I’ve got just three thousand dollars in the bank.  I’ll put it all on Queen Bess against your five-thousand.”

It seemed, almost, as if Holton had been waiting for this offer, for his smile broadened as he found that he had goaded Layson into making it.  “I’ll take it,” he said quickly, and then, turning to the crowd about them, among which were some of the state’s best citizens, he added:  “Gentlemen, you’re witnesses.  Three-thousand against five-thousand on Queen Bess.”

They nodded, and not one of them but looked at Layson with commiseration, as at a man foredoomed to bitter disappointment.

Neb, however, grinned at Holton impishly.  “Yes; you’ll look mighty sick when yo’ hab to pay it, too.”

From the judge’s stand rang out the silvery notes of a quavering bugle-call, and Holton smiled unpleasantly.

“The call to th’ post,” said he, “an’ whar’s your jockey?”

“He’ll be here on time,” said Frank, voicing a confidence which it was hard for him to feel.  He turned, then, to the darkey.  “Neb, bring out Queen Bess.”

The excitement, all around them, was intensifying, every minute.  Jockeys, now, were mounting their horses, and riding off for the short canter to the judges’ stand.  As each appeared in view of the great crowd in and about the grand-stand a mighty shout arose.

Holton’s smile was broadening.  “If that jockey doesn’t show up mighty quick,” he sneered, “you’re out of the race.”

Just as he spoke old Neb returned, with the superb mare behind him, saddled, bridled, ready for the race, fretting at her bit, impatient of the crowds and noise.

“Who knows whether he’s coming, at all?” said Holton, a bit dashed at sight of the fine mare’s superb condition, but still sneering.  “Nobody’s seen him.”

Neb looked off toward the weighing-room.  “Yo’ ’re wrong,” he shouted, capering with amazing spryness for one whose limbs were old and stiff, “fo’ heah he comes!”

Every member of the party turned, in haste, to look in the direction whence Neb pointed.

They saw a slight, graceful figure, dressed in the brilliant colors of the Layson stable, which, without so much as glancing at them, ran to Queen Bess and took a place upon the far side of the mare, where, stooping as if to look carefully to the saddle-girths, its face was quickly hidden.  But, even as the jockey stooped, one of his hands held out to Frank, across the saddle, a little folded paper.

Without paying much attention to the jockey, Layson took this note and hastily unfolded it.  “It’s from the Colonel,” he announced.  “I knew he’d never fail me.”