That was why he was in Lukin—to forget. And here the world had sneaked9 up on him and whispered in his ear. Was it fair?
It was a woman who "jerked lightning" for Lukin. With that small finger on the key she took the pulse of the world.
Connor instinctively11 covered his ears. Then, feeling that he was acting12 like a silly child, he lowered his hands.
Another idea had come to him that this was fate—luck—his luck. Why not take another chance?
He wavered a moment, fighting the temptation and gloomily studying the back of the operator. The cheapness of her white cotton dress fairly shouted at him. Also her hair straggled somewhat about the nape of her neck. All this irritated Connor absurdly.
Connor snatched a telegraph blank and scribbled16 a message to Harry17 Slocum, his betting commissioner18 during this unhappy vacation.
"Send dope on Murray handicaps time—trials of Trickster and Caledonian. Hotel Townsend."
This done, having tapped sharply on the counter to call the operator's attention, he dropped his elbows on the plank and scowled19 downward in profound reverie. They were pouring out of Belmont Park, now, many a grim face and many a joyous20 face. Money had come easy and gone easy. Ah, the reckless bonhomie of that crowd, living for to-day only, because "to-morrow the ponies21 may have it!" A good day for the bookies if that old cripple, Lady Beck, had found her running legs. What a trimming they must have given the wise ones!
At this point another hand came into the circle of his vision and turned the telegram about. A pencil flicked22 across the words, checking them swiftly. Connor was fascinated by that hand, it was so cool, so slender and deft23. He glanced up to her face and saw a resolute24 chin, a smiling mouth which was truly lovely, and direct eyes as dark as his own. She carried her head buoyantly, in a way that made Connor think, with a tingle25, of some clean-blooded filly at the post.
The girl made his change, and shoving it across, she bent26 her head toward the sounder. The characters came through too swiftly for even Ben Connor's sharp ear, but the girl, listening, smiled slowly.
She brightened at this unexpected meeting-point. Her eyes widened as she studied him and listened to the message at the same time, and she accomplished28 this double purpose with such calm that Connor felt a trifle abashed29. Then the shadow of listening vanished, and she concentrated on Connor.
"Soft pine is up," she nodded. "I knew it would climb as soon as old Lucas bought in."
"Speculator in Lukin, is he?"
"No. California. The one whose yacht burned at Honolulu last year. Sold pine like wild fire two months ago; down goes the price. Then he bought a little while ago, and now the pine skyrockets. He can buy a new yacht with what he makes, I suppose!"
The shade of listening darkened her eyes again. "Listen!" She raised a hushing forefinger30 that seemed tremulous in rhythm with the ticking.
"Wide brims are in again," exclaimed the operator, "and wide hats are awful on me; isn't that the luck?"
She went back to her key with the message in her hand, and Connor, dropping his elbows on the counter, watched her send it with swift almost imperceptible flections of her wrist.
Then she sat again with her hands folded in her lap, listening. Connor turned his head and glanced through the door; by squinting31 he could look over the roof just across the street and see the shadowy mountains beyond; then he looked back again and watched the girl listening to the voice of the outer world. The shock of the contrast soothed32. He began to forget about Ben Connor and think of her.
The girl turned in her chair and directly faced him, and he saw that she moved her whole body just as she moved her hand, swiftly, but without a jerk; she considered him gravely.
"Lonely?" she inquired. "Or worried?"
She spoke33 with such a commonplace intonation34 that one might have thought it her business to attend to loneliness and worries.
"As a matter of fact," answered Ben Connor, instinctively dodging35 the direct query36, "I've been wondering how they happened to stick a number-one artist on this wire.
"I'm not kidding," he explained hastily. "You see, I used to jerk lightning myself."
For the first time she really smiled, and he discovered what a rare thing a smile may be. Up to that point he had thought she lacked something, just as the white dress lacked a touch of color.
"Oh," she nodded. "Been off the wire long?"
Ben Connor grinned. It began with his lips; last of all the dull gray eyes lighted.
"Ever since a hot day in July at Aqueduct. The Lorrimer Handicap on the 11th of July, to be exact. I tossed up my job the next day."
"I see," she said, becoming aware of him again. "You played Tip-Top Second."
"The deuce! Were you at Aqueduct that day?"
"I was here—on the wire." He restrained himself with an effort, for a series of questions was Connor's idea of a dull conversation. He merely rubbed his knuckles37 against his chin and looked at her wistfully.
"He nipped King Charles and Miss Lazy at the wire and squeezed home by a nose—paid a fat price, I remember," went on the girl. "I suppose you had something down on him?"
"Did a friend of yours play that race?"
"Oh, no; but I was new to the wire, then, and I used to cut in and listen to everything that came by."
"I know. It's like having some one whisper secrets in your ear, at first, isn't it? But you remember the Lorrimer, eh? That was a race!"
The sounder stopped chattering38, and by an alternation in her eyes he knew that up to that moment she had been giving two-thirds of her attention to the voice of the wire and the other fraction to him; but now she centered upon him, and he wanted to talk. As if, mysteriously, he could share some of the burden of his unrest with the girl. Most of all he wished to talk because this office had lifted him back to the old days of "lightning jerking," when he worked for a weekly pay-check. The same nervous eagerness which had been his in that time was now in this girl, and he responded to it like a call of blood to blood.
"A couple of wise ones took me out to Aqueduct that day: I had all that was coming to me for a month in my pocket, and I kept saying to myself: 'They think I'll fall for this game and drop my wad; here's where I fool 'em!'"
"Go on," said the girl. "You make me feel as if I were about to make a clean-up!"
"Really interested?"
She fixed40 an eager glance on him, as though she were judging how far she might let herself go. Suddenly she leaned closer to Connor.
"Interested? I've been taking the world off the wire for six years—and you've been where things happen."
"That's the way I felt at Aqueduct when I saw the ponies parade past the grand stand the first time," he nodded. "They came dancing on the bitt, and even I could see that they weren't made for use; legs that never pulled a wagon41, and backs that couldn't weight. Just toys; speed machines; all heart and fire and springy muscles. It made my pulse jump to the fever point to watch them light-foot it along the rail with the groom42 in front on a clod of a horse. I felt that I'd lived the way that horse walked—downheaded, and I decided43 to change."
He stopped short and locked his stubby fingers together, frowning at her so that the lines beside his mouth deepened.
"I seem to be telling you the story of my life," he said. Then he saw that she was studying him, not with idle curiosity, but rather as one turns the pages of an absorbing book, never knowing what the next moment will reveal or where the characters will be taken.
"You want to talk; I want to hear you," she said gravely. "Go ahead. Besides—I don't chatter afterward44. They paraded past the grand stand, then what?"
Ben Connor sighed.
"I watched four races. The wise guys with me were betting ten bucks45 on every race and losing on red-hot tips; and every time I picked out the horse that looked good to me, that horse ran in the money. Then they came out for the Lorrimer. One of my friends was betting on King Charles and the other on Miss Lazy. Both of them couldn't win, and the chance was that neither of them would. So I looked over the line as it went by the stand. King Charles was a little chestnut46, one of those long fellows that stretch like rubber when they commence running; Miss Lazy was a gangling47 bay. Yes, they were both good horses, but I looked over the rest, and pretty soon I saw a rangy chestnut with a white foreleg and a midget of a boy up in the saddle. 'No. 7—Tip-Top Second,' said the wise guy on my right when I asked him; 'a lame48 one.' Come to look at him again, he was doing a catch step with his front feet, but I had an idea that when he got going he'd forget all about that catch and run like the wind. Understand?"
"Just a hunch," said the girl. "Yes!"
She stepped closer to the counter and leaned across it. Her eyes were bright. Connor knew that she was seeing that picture of the hot day, the crowd of straw hats stirring wildly, the murmur49 and cry that went up as the string of racers jogged past.
"They went to the post," said Connor, "and I got down my bet—a hundred dollars, my whole wad—on Tip-Top Second. The bookie looked just once at me, and I'll never forget how his eyebrows50 went together. I went back to my seat."
"You were shaking all over, I guess," suggested the girl, and her hands were quivering.
"I was not," said Ben Connor, "I was cold through and through, and never moved my eyes off Tip-Top Second. His jockey had a green jacket with two stripes through it, and the green was easy to watch. I saw the crowd go off, and I saw Tip-Top left flat-footed at the post."
The girl drew a breath. Connor smiled at her. The hot evening had flushed his face, but now a small spot of white appeared in either cheek, and his dull eyes had grown expressionless. She knew what he meant when he said that he was cold when he saw the string go to the post.
"It—it must have made you sick!" said the girl.
"Not a bit. I knew the green jacket was going to finish ahead of the rest as well as I knew that my name was Ben Connor. I said he was left at the post. Well, it wasn't exactly that, but when the bunch came streaking51 out of the shoot, he was half a dozen lengths behind. It was a mile and an eighth race. They went down the back stretch, eight horses all bunched together, and the green jacket drifting that half dozen lengths to the rear. The wise guys turned and grinned at me; then they forgot all about me and began to yell for King Charles and Miss Lazy.
"The bunch were going around the turn and the two favorites were fighting it out together. But I had an eye for the green jacket, and halfway53 around the turn I saw him move up."
The girl sighed.
"No," Connor continues, "he hadn't won the race yet. And he never should have won it at all, but King Charles was carrying a hundred and thirty-eight pounds, and Miss Lazy a hundred and thirty-three, while Tip-Top Second came in as a fly-weight eighty-seven pounds! No horse in the world could give that much to him when he was right, but who guessed that then?
"They swung around the turn and hit the stretch. Tip-Top took the curve like a cart horse. Then the bunch straightened out, with King Charles and Miss Lazy fighting each other in front and the rest streaking out behind like the tail of a flag. They did that first mile in 1.38, but they broke their hearts doing it, with that weight up.
"They had an eighth to go—one little measly furlong, with Tip-Top in the ruck, and the crowd screaming for King Charles and Miss Lazy; but just exactly at the mile post the leaders flattened54. I didn't know it, but the man in front of me dropped his glasses and his head. 'Blown!' he said, and that was all. It seemed to me that the two in front were running as strongly as ever, but Tip-Top was running better. He came streaking, with the boy flattening55 out along his neck and the whip going up and down. But I didn't stir. I couldn't; my blood was turned to ice water.
"Tip-Top walked by the ruck and got his nose on the hip56 of King Charles. Somebody was yelling behind me in a squeaky voice: 'There is something wrong! There's something wrong!' There was, too, and it was the eighty-seven pounds that a fool handicapper had put on Tip-Top. At the sixteenth Miss Lazy threw up her head like a swimmer going down and dropped back, and Tip-Top was on the King's shoulder. Fifty yards to the finish; twenty-five—then the King staggered as if he'd been hit between the ears, and Tip-Top jumped out to win by a neck.
"There was one big breath of silence in the grand stand—then a groan57. I turned my head and saw the two wise guys looking at me with sick grins. Afterward I collected two thousand bucks from a sicker looking bookie."
He paused and smiled at the girl.
"That was the 11th of July. First real day of my life."
She gathered her mind out of that scene.
"You stepped out of a telegraph office, with your finger on the key all day, every day, and you jumped into two thousand dollars?"
After she had stopped speaking her thoughts went on, written in her eyes.
"You'd like to try it, eh?" said Ben Connor.
"Haven't you had years of happiness out of it?"
"Happiness?" he echoed. "Happiness?"
She stepped back so that she put his deeply-marked face in a better light.
"You're a queer one for a winner."
"Sure, the turf is crowded with queer ones like me."
"Winners, all of 'em?"
His eye had been gradually brightening while he talked to her. He felt that the girl rang true, as men ring true, yet there was nothing masculine about her.
"You've heard racing59 called the sport of kings? That's because only kings can afford to follow the ponies. Kings and Wall Street. But a fellow can't squeeze in without capital. I've made a go of it for a while; pretty soon we all go smash. Sooner or later I'll do what everybody else does—put up my cash on a sure thing and see my money go up in smoke."
"Then why don't you pull out with what you have?"
"Why does the earth keep running around the sun? Because there's a pull. Once you've followed the ponies you'll keep on following 'em. No hope for it. Oh, I've seen the boys come up one after another, make their killings60, hit a streak52 of bad luck, plunge61, and then watch their sure-thing throw up its tail in the stretch and fade into the ruck."
He was growing excited as he talked; he was beginning to realize that he must make his break from the turf now or never. And he spoke more to himself than to the girl.
"We all hang on. We play the game till it breaks us and still we stay with it. Here I am, two thousand miles away from the tracks—and sending for dope to make a play! Can you beat that? Well, so-long."
He turned away gloomily.
"Good night, Mr. Connor."
He turned sharply.
"Where'd you get that name?" he asked with a trace of suspicion.
"Off the telegram."
He nodded, but said: "I've an idea I've been chattering to much."
"My name is Ruth Manning," answered the girl. "I don't think you've said too much."
"I'm glad I know some one in Lukin," said Connor. "Good night, again."
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1
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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5
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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6
squeaked
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的过去式和过去分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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7
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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8
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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9
sneaked
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| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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10
chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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11
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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12
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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13
conqueror
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| n.征服者，胜利者 | |
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14
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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16
scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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17
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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19
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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24
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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tingle
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| vi.感到刺痛，感到激动；n.刺痛，激动 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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31
squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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32
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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33
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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34
intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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35
dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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36
query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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37
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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38
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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39
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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41
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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42
groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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43
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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44
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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45
bucks
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| n.雄鹿( buck的名词复数 )；钱；（英国十九世纪初的）花花公子；（用于某些表达方式）责任v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的第三人称单数 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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46
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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47
gangling
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| adj.瘦长得难看的 | |
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48
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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49
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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50
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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51
streaking
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| n.裸奔（指在公共场所裸体飞跑）v.快速移动( streak的现在分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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52
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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53
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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54
flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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55
flattening
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| n. 修平 动词flatten的现在分词 | |
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56
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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57
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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58
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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59
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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60
killings
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| 谋杀( killing的名词复数 )； 突然发大财，暴发 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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62
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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