CHAPTER XXXI
John Parker's boredom had been cured by a stop-watch. One week afterPanchito had given evidence of his royal breeding, Parker's oldtrainer, Dan Leighton, arrived at the Palomar. Formerly a jockey, hewas now in his fiftieth year, a wistful little man with a puckered,shrewd face, which puckered more than usual when Don Mike handed himPanchito's pedigree.
"He's a marvelous horse, Danny," Parker assured the old trainer.
"No thanks to him. He ought to be," Leighton replied. His cool glancemeasured Allesandro Trujillo, standing hard by. "I'll have that duskyimp for an exercise boy," he announced. "He's built like anaeroplane--all superstructure and no solids."
For a month the training of Panchito went on each morning. Pablo'sgrandson, under Danny Leighton's tuition, proved an excellent exerciseboy. He learned to sit his horse in the approved jockey fashion; proudbeyond measure at the part he was playing, he paid strict attention toLeighton's instructions and progressed admirably.
Watching the horse develop under skilled scientific training, itoccurred to Don Mike each time he held his father's old stop-watch onPanchito that race-horses had, in a great measure, conduced to the ruinof the Noriagas and Farrels, and something told him that Panchito waslikely to prove the instrument for the utter financial extinction ofthe last survivor of that famous tribe. "If he continues to improve,"Farrel told himself, "he's worth a bet--and a mighty heavy one.Nevertheless, Panchito's grandfather, leading his field by six openlengths in the home-stretch, going strong and a sure-fire winner,tangled his feet, fell on his nose and cost my father a thousand steerssix months before they were ready for market. I ought to leave JohnParker to do all the betting on Panchito, but--well, he's arace-horse--and I'm a Farrel."
"When will Panchito be ripe to enter in a mile and a sixteenth race?"he asked Parker.
"About the middle of November. The winter meeting will be on at TiaJuana, Baja California, then, and Leighton wants to give him a fewtry-outs there in fast company over a much shorter course. We will winwith him in a field of ordinary nags and we will be careful not to wintoo far or too spectacularly. We have had his registry brought up todate and of course you will be of record as his owner. In view of ourplans, it would never do for Danny and me to be connected with him inany way."
Don Mike nodded and rode over to Agua Caliente Basin to visit BillConway. Mr. Conway was still on the job, albeit Don Mike hazarded aguess that the old schemer had spent almost two hundred thousanddollars. His dam was, as he facetiously remarked, "taking concreteshape," and he was rushing the job in order to have the structurethoroughly dry and "set" against the coming of the winter rains. Tohis signal relief, Farrel asked him no embarrassing questions regardingthe identity of the extremely kind-hearted person who was financinghim; he noticed that his young friend appeared a trifle pre-occupiedand depressed. And well he might be. The secret knowledge that he wasobligated to Kay Parker to the extent of the cost of this dam wasirritating to his pride; while he felt that her loving interest andsympathy, so tremendously manifested, was in itself a debt he wouldalways rejoice in because he never could hope to repay it, it did irkhim to be placed in the position of never being able to admit hisknowledge of her action. He prayed that Bill Conway would be enabledto complete the dam as per his contract; that Judge Morton would thenrush to trial Conway's suit for damages against Parker fornon-performance of contract; that Conway would be enabled immediatelyto reimburse himself through Parker's assets which he had attached,repay Kay and close the transaction.
On November fifteenth Danny Leighton announced that Panchito was "righton edge" and, with a few weeks of experience in professional company,fit to make the race of his career. The winter meeting was already onat Tia Juana and, with Farrel's consent, Panchito was lovinglydeposited in a well-padded crate mounted on a motor truck andtransported to El Toro. Here he was loaded in an express car and,guarded by Don Mike, shipped not to Tia Juana, as Parker and histrainer both supposed he would be, but to San Diego, sixteen milesnorth of the international boundary--a change of plan originating withFarrel and by him kept a secret from Parker and Danny Leighton. WithPanchito went an ancient Saratoga trunk, Pablo Artelan, and littleAllesandro Trujillo, ragged and bare-footed as usual.
Upon arriving in San Diego Don Mike unloaded Panchito at the Santa Fedepot. Gone now were the leg bandages and the beautiful blanket withwhich Danny Leighton had furnished Panchito at starting. These thingsproclaimed the race-horse, and that was not part of Don Mike's plan.He led the animal to a vacant lot a few blocks from the depot and,leaving him there in charge of Pablo, went up town to the Mexicanconsulate and procured passports into Baja California for himself andAllesandro. From the consulate he went to a local stock-yard andpurchased a miserable, flea-bitten, dejected saddle mule, together witha dilapidated old stock saddle with a crupper, and a well-wornhorse-hair hackamore.
Returning to the depot, he procured his old Saratoga trunk from thestation master and removed from it the beautiful black-leather,hand-carved, silver-mounted stock saddle he had won at a _rodeo_ someyears previous; a pair of huge, heavy, solid silver Mexican spurs, withtan carved-leathern straps, and a finely plaited hand-made rawhidebridle, _sans_ throat-latch and brow-band and supporting a long, cruel,solid silver Spanish bit, with silver chain chin-strap and heavilyembossed. In this gear he arrayed Panchito, and then mounted him.Allesandro mounted the flea-bitten mule, the old Saratoga trunk wasturned over to Pablo, and with a fervent "_Adios_, Don Miguel. Go withGod!" from the old majordomo, Don Mike and his little companion rodesouth through the city toward the international boundary.
They crossed at Tecarte next day and in the somnolent little bordertown Don Mike made sundry purchases and proceeded south on the roadtoward Ensenada.
Meanwhile, John Parker, his wife and daughter and Danny Leighton hadmotored to San Diego and taken rooms at a hotel there. Each day theyattended the races at Tia Juana, and as often as they appeared therethey looked long and anxiously for Don Miguel Jose Federico NoriagaFarrel. But in vain.
Three days before Thanksgiving the entries for the Thanksgivinghandicap were announced, and when Danny Leighton read them in themorning paper he at once sought his employer.
"That fellow Farrel has spoiled everything," he complained furiously."He's entered Panchito in the Thanksgiving Handicap at a mile and asixteenth, for a ten thousand dollar purse. There he is!"
Parker read the list and sighed. "Well, Panchito is his horse, Danny.He has a right to enter him if he pleases--hello! Katie! Kay! Here'snews for you. Listen!"
He read aloud:
DON QUIXOTE AND SANCHO PANZA, JR.
ARRIVE AT TIA JUANA--THEY ENTER PANCHITO IN THE THANKSGIVING HANDICAP
_By the Rail Bird_
Considerable interest having developed among the followers of the sportof kings at Tia Juana race-track anent the entry of Panchito in theThanksgiving Handicap, and the dope books yielding nothing, yourcorrespondent hied him to the office of the secretary of the LowerCalifornia Jockey Club; whereupon he was regaled with the followingextraordinary tale:
Two days ago a Mexican rode into Tia Juana from the south. He wasriding Panchito and his outfit was the last word in Mexicanmagnificence. His saddle had cost him not a _real_ less than fivehundred dollars gold; his silver spurs could have been pawned in anyTia Juana loan office for twenty-five dollars and many a longing glancewas cast on a magnificent bridle that would have cost any bricklayer amonth's pay. Panchito, a splendid big chestnut with two whitestockings and a blazed face, was gray with sweat and alkali dust andshod like a plow horse. He wore cactus burrs in his tail and mane andhad evidently traveled far.
His rider claimed to have been on the road a week, and his soiledclothing and unshaven face gave ample testimony of that fact. He wasarrayed in the traditional costume of the Mexican ranchero of means andspoke nothing but Spanish, despite which handicap the racing secretarygleaned that his name was Don Miguel Jose Maria Federico NoriagaFarrelle. Follo
wing Don Miguel came Sancho Panza, Junior, a stringyIndian youth of fourteen summers, mounted on an ancient flea-bittenmule. The food and clothing of these two adventurers were carriedbehind them on their saddles.
An interpreter informed the secretary that Don Miguel was desirous ofentering his horse, Panchito, in the Thanksgiving Handicap. Thehorse's registration papers being in order, the entry was accepted, DonQuixote and Sancho Panza, Junior, were each given a badge, and a stallwas assigned to Panchito. At the same time Don Quixote madeapplication for an apprentice license for young Sancho Panza, whoanswers to the name of Allesandro Trujillo, when the _enchiladas_ areready.
Panchito, it appears, is a five-year-old, bred by Michael J. Farrel,whose post-office address is El Toro, San Marcos County, California.He is bred in the purple, being a descendant of Duke of Norfolk and,according to his present owner, Don Quixote, he can run circles aroundan antelope and has proved it in a number of scrub races at various_fiestas_ and celebrations. According to Don Quixote, his horse hasnever hitherto appeared on a public race-track. Panchito knows farmore about herding and roping steers than he does about professionalracing, and enters the list with no preparation other than the dailyexercise afforded in bearing his owner under a forty-pound stock saddleand scrambling through the cactus after longhorns. Evidently DonQuixote knows it all. He brushed aside with characteristic Castiliangrace some well-meant advice tendered him by his countrymen, who haveaccumulated much racing wisdom since the bang-tails have come to TiaJuana. He spent the entire day yesterday telling everybody whounderstands Spanish what a speed marvel is his Panchito, while SanchoPanza, Junior, galloped Panchito gently around the track and warmed himin a few quarter-mile sprints. It was observed that the cactus burrswere still decorating Panchito's tail and mane.
Don Quixote is a dead game Mexican sport, however. He has a roll thatwould choke a hippopotamus and appears willing to bet them as high as ahound's back.
Figure it out for yourself. You pays your money and you takes yourchoice. Bobby Wilson, the handicapper, says Don Quixote smokes_marihuana_, but the _jefe politico_ says he knows it's the fermentedjuice of the century plant. However, Bobby is taking no chances as thewise ones will note when they check the weights. Panchito, being apowerful horse and (according to Don Quixote) absolutely unbeatable,faces the barrier with an impost of 118 pounds, not counting his shoes,cactus burrs and stable accumulations.
Watch for Sancho Panza, Junior. He rides barefooted in a two-pieceuniform, to wit, one "nigger" shirt and a pair of blue bib overalls,and he carries a willow switch.
_Viva_ Panchito. _Viva_ Don Quixote. _Ditto_ Sancho Panza, Junior.
John Parker finished reading and his glance sought Leighton's."Danny," he informed the trainer in a low voice, "here is what I call adirty, low, Irish trick. I suppose he's been making a night-bird outof Panchito, but you can bet your last nickel he isn't neglecting himwhen they're alone in the barn together. He gets a grooming then; hegets well fed and well rubbed and the cactus burrs and the stableaccumulations are only scenery when Panchito's on parade. He removedthe racing plates you put on Panchito and substituted heavy work shoes,but--Panchito will go to the post with racing plates. I think we hadbetter put a bet down on him."
"I wouldn't bet tin money on him," Danny Leighton warned. "He canoutrun anything in that field, even if he has broken training a little,but those wise little jockeys on the other horses will never let himwin. They'll pocket him and keep him there."
"They'll not!" Kay's voice rose sharply. "Panchito will be off first,no matter what position he draws, and Don Mike's orders to Allesandrowill be to keep him in front. But you are not to bet on him, father."
"Why not? Of course I shall bet on him."
"You know very well, Dad, that there are no book-makers of Tia Juana tomake the odds. The Paris Mutuel system obtains here and the publicmakes the odds. Consequently the more money bet on Panchito the lowerwill be his price. I'm certain Don Mike will bet every dollar he hasin the world on Panchito, but he will bet it, through trusted agents,in pool-rooms all over the country. The closing price here should besuch that the pool-rooms should pay Don Mike not less than fifteen toone."
"So you've been his confidante, have you?" Parker scrutinized hisdaughter quizzically.
"He had to take somebody into his confidence in order to have his plansprotected," she confessed blushingly.
"Quite so! Somebody with a deal of influence," Mrs. Parkerinterjected. "John, this is simply delicious. That rascal of a DonMiguel has reverted to type. He has put aside his Celtic and Gaelicblood and turned Mexican. He tells people the truth about his horseand a reporter with a sense of humor has advertised these truths bywriting a funny story about him and Panchito and the Indian imp."
"They'll have him up in the judge's stand for an explanation fiveminutes after the race is won," Danny Leighton declared. "Panchitowill be under suspicion of being a ringer and the payment of bets willbe held up."
"In which case, dad," Kay reminded him demurely, "you and Mr. Leightonwill be furnished with an excellent opportunity to prove yourselvesheroes. Both of you will go to the judge's stand immediately and vouchfor Don Mike and Panchito. If you do not I shall--and I fancy JohnParker's daughter's testimony will be given some consideration, Mr.John Parker being very well known to every racing judge in America."
"There are days," murmured John Parker sadly, "when I find itimpossible to lay up a cent. I have nurtured a serpent in my bosom."
"Tush! There are no snakes in Ireland," his humorous wife remindedhim. "What if Don Mike has hoisted you on your own petard? Few menhave done as much," and she pinched his arm lovingly.