When the first line of betting on the fifth race at Gravesend was chalked up shortly after 4 o'clock in the Harlem street poolroom on Wednesday afternoon last, the red-haired, freckle-faced tout gave one swift glance at the figures, clutched his armful of "dope" books and sped over to a corner of the room where two flashy, well-fed looking chaps sat tilted back in chairs, smoking and unconcernedly waiting for the running of a race at Latonia in which they had a good thing.

"Here's the soft spot o' your life," said the red-haired, freckle-faced tout, pulling a chair up alongside the two unconcerned-looking chaps.

"This'll be like pullin' th' milk teeth out o' a fox terrier's face.

This is a real dill pickle. Are you two comin' out into th' garden, Maud, or are you goin' t' let this one get away from you."

"Back t' your dray," said one of the unconcerned-looking chaps. "Another stiff, hey? T' your dray!"

The red-haired, freckle-faced tout pulled his chair closer to them.

"But this is th' hand-made, copper-coiled mash," said he, earnestly.

"It's on'y onct in a while that you get them people that lays th'

figures out o' line like they are on this one. This is th' mellow goods.

Just send a few aces along on it, that's all. It's 100 to 1."

"Now you stawp, Red!" said the other unconcerned-looking man. "You stawp, you rude thing!"

"He'll come home on th' bit," said "Red." "Lemme show you where he's been landin', an' you can see if he's any 100 t' 1 toss. Lemme pa.s.s you th' line, an' if you don't take none o' it, then I'm on a cattle boat by way o' Glasgow," and the red-haired, freckle-faced tout opened up one of his dope books and started to show the pair of flashy looking chaps where Rolling Boer had finished in his previous races.

"Go take a sail with yourself, Red," put in one of the easy-looking chaps. "Nothin' doin'. Rolling Boer, hey? Not with Fenian bonds, good when Ireland's free. Rolling Boer, you say, Red? When did they get that one out o' the cavalry? Rolling Boer, 'll still be jogging down the stretch when you're in bed, Reddy. Say, it's a wonder you don't dig up a live one 'casionally. Stop trekkin. Winter'll be coming on soon, and you'll be nix the price of a doss. Rolling Boer! To the woods!"

The red-haired tout mopped his face with a frayed blue polka-dotted handkerchief.

"Sey, what's half a ten spot to you people?" he said in a tone of entreaty. "The one you're waitin' f'r'll be 'bout 1 to 4 on, an' this is sunshine money, at 100 to 1. You people know how they stan' them 1 to 4 things on their heads out in Latonia. Say, take me spiel on this, won't you, f'r a fi'muth? Look where he got off th' last time out, an' where he finished! If you can't see him t' win, take th' 20 to 1 third. It'll be a shame t' spen' t' money-but take it won't you?"

The two complaisant-looking chaps turned away from the red-haired tout and began a conversation between themselves. The tout looked very warm, and an expression of despair crossed his weazened features. He mopped his face again with his blue polka-dotted handkerchief and slunk away.

He sided up to one of the board-markers and said, out of the corner of his mouth:

"Say, get an ace down on Rolling Boer f'r me, will you? It's a skinch."

The board-marker grinned.

"I'm all out, Red," he replied. "Pushed me last ace up on the last whizz, an' didn't get a whistle f'r it."

"This super's good f'r a deuce in any hock shop-I've had it in f'r three," went on the red-haired tout, appealingly, pulling out an old silver time-piece and trying to pa.s.s it to the board-marker. "Lemme have a buck on it, an' I'll pa.s.s you back five f'r it after th' ring's around Rolling Boer. How's that?"

"I'm all t' th' gruel, didn't I tell you?" replied the man with the chalk, with some asperity. "I got a ticker o' me own. You're puffin'

secon's, Red. Rolling Boer couldn't beat me little sister skippin'

rope."

The red-haired tout walked away with an expression of deep misery on his face.

"They think they are wise t' th' ponies, hey?" he muttered. "It's bean bag they ought t' be playin'!"

He dug a quarter, two dimes and a nickel out of his change pocket and looked at the coins dismally.

"It's me feed coin," he mumbled, "but maybe I can get some piker t' go along with f'r another four bits."

He walked over to a shabby-looking chap who was slouching around with his hands in his pockets.

"Say, you got a bundle on you?" the red-haired tout inquired of the shabby-looking man.

The shabby-looking man dug a fifty-cent piece out of his left-hand waistcoat pocket.

"That's all I was huntin' f'r," said the tout, displaying his coins.

"Let's put th' two pieces t'gether an' nail 'em f'r $50 each."

"On what?" inquired the shabby-looking man without any apparent interest whatsoever.

"On a pipe," said the red-haired tout. "Rolling Boer. He'll make 'em dizzy and stroll in with his head a-swingin' an' his tail a-swishin'. Do you come in with me f'r the half?"

The shabby-looking man put his fifty-cent piece back in his left-hand waistcoat pocket.

"You'll be fallin' out o' bed in a minute, Red," said the shabby-looking man. "Not for me. I need the beers-ten of 'em."

"Yes, you're a sport right, I think nix," said the red-haired tout, walking gloomily away. "You're a dead game, with the copper on."

His eagle eye caught sight of a fat man with some three parts of a jag sitting at the "dope" table, alternately puffing at a ravelled cigar and nodding sleepily. This jagged man had on one side of his head a straw hat that looked as if it had been rained on and then sat on. The red-haired tout went over to him.

"Say, your lid's on the pork all right, ain't it?" he said amiably to the jagged man. "Been sc.r.a.ppin' with a cable-car?"

"Fade away-fade away," said the jagged man, sleepily. "Do a disappearing stunt."

"I'll tell you what I'll do with you," said the red-haired tout, edging over confidentially to the jagged man. "I'll pa.s.s you this cage o'

mine-on'y bought it three days ago, and coughed a two-spot f'r it-f'r that one o' yours an' half a buck t' boot," and the red-haired tout removed the pretty fair-looking straw hat he was wearing and pushed it over to the jagged man. The jagged man took his ravelled cigar from his mouth and grinned broadly.

"Say," he said to the red-haired tout, "you gimme th' tizzy-wizzy-hones'

yo do. Me wear a No. 2 lid? Say, do your fadin' stunt-fade away."

The tout picked up his hat, put it on, and walked away.

"Now they've hammered Rolling Boer down to 80 to 1, hey?" he said, looking up at the second line of betting. "B'jee, I'd climb a porch t'

yank out a couple t' put on that one."

He was disconsolately biting his nails and looking around to see if there was any way out for him before the bunch of two-year-olds at Gravesend went to the post.

"They're at the pump at Gravesend!" announced the board-marker.

Just as the announcement was made, a little man with a straw-colored mustache and a red, white and blue band around his straw hat mounted the stairs, pa.s.sed the spotter sitting at the door with a nod, lit a fresh cigarette, and walked up behind the red-haired tout.

"Thay, Red," he said, "what'th good in thith?"

The red-haired tout wheeled like a man who's been touched on the shoulder by a deputy sheriff.

"You haven't got a minute!" he said, rapidly, to the little man with the straw-colored mustache. "It's th' baby o' th' year! Gimme three aces-two f'r you, an' one f'r me, an' in four minutes from date you'll be lookin'

over th' sides of a balloon, chucking off ballast made out o' money."

The lisping little man with the straw-colored mustache smiled indulgently and pulled out a roll, from which he stripped a five-dollar note.

"That'th the thmalletht I've got, Red," he said, handing over the note to the tout. "Thay"--