The Perils of Pauline

by Lawrence Fletcher

  CHAPTER XVIII

  A HOT YOUNG COMET

  "That's right; praise her; pet her; make her think she's great, soshe'll do it all over again."

  Harry turned away wrathfully from the joyous greetings of Lucille andChauncey Hamlin to Pauline.

  "Harry is quite right," said Lucille. "I ought to snub you entirely.It is disgraceful, it's wicked to be as brave as you are, Polly."

  "Oh, I say, Lucy," pleaded her brother. "You'll have Miss Pauline allupset."

  "She likes it," snapped Harry. "She's been upset out of everythingfrom a balloon to a house afire, and now she's looking for newcapsizable craft."

  "Polly! You wouldn't try it again! You don't want any more thrillsafter this?" Lucille's astonishment was sincere.

  Pauline cast a serpentine glance at Harry. "Am I to live quietly athome with a creature like him?" she inquired.

  "Why don't you have me beheaded, O Great White Queen?"

  "The braves are reserved for torture. Where are you people going sobright and early?" she added turning to Chauncey.

  "Going to take you for a little morning spin. Car's perfectly safe."

  "Yes, do come along, Polly," urged Lucille.

  "What! In a safe car? Never!" exclaimed Harry. "It isn't done, youknow--not in this family. Now, if you had a hot restless young comethitched at the door, Chauncey."

  Pauline laughed merrily. "No, I couldn't go this morning even behind arestless young comet." She glanced mischievously at Harry. "Dutybefore pleasure; have important business on hand. No, I can't telleven you, Lucille--you're not to be trusted. You'd be sure to tellHarry."

  As the Hamlins drove off, Harry turned anxiously.

  "You've not forgotten your promise? There is to be a long rest fromwildness, isn't there--no more adventures?"

  "Yes--a rest from wild ones. I am going to have a tame adventurenow."

  "Polly, Polly! What do you mean?"

  "This," she answered, taking the morning paper from the table.Unfolding it, she showed him a headline:

  GREAT LORDNOR STABLES TO BE AUCTIONED

  World-Famous Horses of Late Millionaire Sportsman Under Hammer.

  "Well?" questioned Harry.

  "Don't you see?" she tantalized him.

  "Not in the least."

  "I am going to buy Firefly and ride him in the steeplechase handicap."

  Harry's smile was almost despairing, but he answered quickly. "Oh, Isee. You'll have me ride him and break my precious neck. I thought fora second you meant to ride yourself."

  "That's just what I do mean. It will be gorgeously exciting--andperfectly safe."

  "Safe?"

  "Well, of course, I might be killed by a fall or something."

  He laughed in spite of himself. "I shall not permit it," he said.

  "You will not permit it?" she beamed. "Then I'll ask my guardian. Imay ride Firefly in the steeplechase if I choose, mayn't I, Owen?" sheasked brightly.

  Pauline could never bear malice; already she had forgiven Owen, as wellas Harry.

  The secretary had just entered and was watching the two with aquestioning eye.

  "If we own Firefly, you may," he smiled back at her.

  "I told you," she triumphed over Harry.

  "But we don't own him," said Owen, puzzled.

  "We shall this afternoon. The Lordnor stables are being sold. Pleasegive me a great deal of money so that I can't be outbid."

  "Does Miss Pauline really mean this?" asked the secretary.

  "She does," Harry answered in a tone of disgust at what he thought nowwas only Owen's weakness. There seemed no chance of a plot againstPauline in this original scheme of her own.

  "She rides wonderfully. I do not see why she should not," Owencondescended.

  "You don't seem to see much of anything," declared Harry.

  "But you'll take me to the auction?" coaxed Pauline.

  "I'll have to--or you'll spend the whole estate on a Shetland pony."

  Owen sauntered from the room, laughing. Bareheaded he walked quiteacross the garden and down into the wood-copse by the path gate.

  A gypsy was leaning upon the gate and gazing nervously up and down theroad. He turned at the sound of Owen's footsteps, and the eyes of theyoung chief, Michel Mario, gazed apprehensively into the smiling eyesof the secretary.

  "How are you, Balthazar?" greeted Owen.

  "Don't use that name to me," pleaded the gypsy. "You have work forme? I have come all the way back from Port Vincent to see you."

  "It was kind of you," said Owen with the faintest tinge of sarcasm."Yes, I have important work for you. Have you ever doctored a horse,Balthazar?"

  "Many times--but not with my beauty medicine," grinned the chief.

  "I mean with a hypodermic needle. I mean a race horse-so that he mightpossibly fall in a race."

  "And injure the rider?"

  "Exactly."

  "It is very easy--but very dangerous. I should want--"

  "I know; I know," exclaimed Owen petulantly. "Here is the money."

  Balthazar gloated over the yellow bills.

  "And here is the weapon."

  The Gypsy took the needle from the hand of the secretary and thrust itquickly into the inside pocket of his blouse. "Thank you, master. Iwill do what you say," said the Gypsy, making a move to go.

  "Not quite so fast," commanded Owen. "You do not know the place or thetime."

  "The Jericho track next Saturday," answered the Gypsy promptly. "Whatis the horse?"

  "Firefly. It will be bought at the Jericho stables this afternoon.You will be there to see it and to remember it. Goodbye now."

  "Goodbye master--and many thanks."

  Michael Caliban, wealthiest of sportsmen, attended the auction of theLordnor stables, and seemed bent on adding the entire string ofsplendid horses to his own far-famed monarchs of the track.

  The only time during the afternoon that he met with defeat was when thefamous steeplechaser Firefly was brought out.

  "Five hundred dollars," said Caliban curtly.

  "Six hundred," said the musical voice of a girl and the crowd turned tolook.

  Caliban smiled condescendingly. "A thousand," he said.

  "There, you see you can't do it. The horse isn't worth any more,"cautioned Harry.

  "Fifteen hundred dollars," cried Pauline.

  "Does she mean that, or is this only a joke?" demanded Caliban, turningto the auctioneer.

  "The lady's word is good enough for me. Going at fifteen hundred--going, going--"

  "Two thousand dollars. I guess that'll stop any jokes around here,"grinned Caliban.

  "Three thousand," said Pauline so quickly that even Harry gasped, cutshort in mid-protest.

  Caliban turned away and strode disgustedly out of the crowd amid hootsof laughter.

  "He is worth it; why he is worth any price," cried Pauline as thesmiling groom led Firefly up to her.

  The magnificent animal thrust its nose instantly between heroutstretched arms, and as she patted him delightedly the crowd rippledwith spontaneous applause.

  Harry joined her on the way to see Firefly put in his stall. He gavethe caretaker instructions, and laughingly dragged Pauline away fromher new pet.

  As they entered their machine, Raymond Owen came from behind thestable.

  Engrossed in the business complications growing out of the Europeanconflict, Harry had quite forgotten Firefly and the steeplechase whenthe day of the great Jericho handicap arrived.

  He was in the library reading a letter when there burst upon his sightthrough the open doorway a vision that took his breath away.

  Pauline, in full jockey uniform, white and blue and yellow, waspirouetting on her gleaming black boots before him.

  "Polly!" he cried, unable to grasp the meaning of the prank. "Have youcut off your hair?" he added in alarm.

  "No; here it is," she laughed, snapping off her visored cap andrevealing masses of hair.
/>   "Oh, don't do it," he begged. "Look! Here's a letter from theMcCallans asking us to their house party in the Adirondacks. We'reexpected tomorrow. Let's go there instead."

  He handed her the letter. Without glancing at it she flicked it intothe air with her riding crop and danced out of her room..

  "So I surrender again," he murmured, laughing in spite of himself.

  Riding out toward the starting line, Pauline swerved her course alittle to avoid the gaze of the gentlemen riders who eyed hercuriously. She heard a call from an automobile beside the track androde, over to where Harry and Owen were seated in the car.

  Their lifted hats as, she bent to shake hands with them caused thecrowd to stare in astonishment. Pauline, blushing furiously, spedFirefly to the line.

  "That horse works queer," commented Harry, as she rode away.

  "Do you think so?" asked Owen.

  "Yes, it's on edge, but its legs are shaky. I wonder..."

  But the riders were ready. The signal sounded. The crowd's cheer rosein the names of their various favorites. Field-glasses wereunbuckled.

  "By jolly, Firefly took the first jump in the lead," cried Harry, athrill of admiration lightening the worry in his heart.

  "He's all right," said Owen.

  Over the wide green the horses began to string out, with Fireflyahead.

  "She's going to win it; I believe she is," exclaimed Harry excitedly ashe and Owen stood in the automobile. "No--no; he wobbled at thefourth jump. He's losing ground."

  But Firefly seemed suddenly to grip his strength as one horse passedhim. He pulled himself together under Pauline's urging. He regainedthe lead.

  They came down splendidly toward the homestretch. The bodies of thepowerful beasts rose one by one over the last hedge.

  "They're over! They've won--or, heaven help her! They're down!"

  Leading at the last jump, the drugged heart of the great horse hadconquered his courage. As he stumbled heavily, Pauline shot over hishead and lay helpless in the path of the other riders.

  Harry, dashing madly toward the track, but hopelessly far from her, hadto turn away his head as the crashing hoofs passed her. When he lookedagain, attendants were carrying her swiftly to the clubhouse. He spedtoward it, Owen following.

  Harry tore his way through the excited crowd to the side of Pauline. Adoctor was administering restoratives. Pauline opened her eyes andlooked about her bewildered. She saw Harry's anxious face and smiledpenitently.

  "I've--learned a lesson this time," she whispered.

  "It is nothing serious--her shoulder bruised a little," said thedoctor.

  "Thank Heaven!" breathed Raymond Owen with well feigned emotion.