Boy's Cinema (1930-31)

10 Cirl was using his whip, but all Doyle did was to bend even lower in the saddle and yell out the familiar : " Whoo[j-te-do!" A gasp from the crowd. The two horses we-C running nock and neck—the winning-post a dozen lengths ahead. Shouts of "Baby Girl!" "Yellow Hornet!" rang out, but only those near tho finish and the judge could tell the actual winner, yet Yellow Hornet had won by a clear head. What tho bookmaker who had given fcurs had to say c-an best be left to the imagination. As tho owner was not present, Sleepy Jones led in the winner. The trainer was a dour, suspicious little man, with a short-cut, sandy moustache and bristly hair. His eyes would dart this way and that, the lids woidd droop almost to closing, and the chin was agrcssive. Sleepy Jones was the exact opposite of his name; in fact, lie was so alert for trickoiy that his friends had given him the nickname. Yet his bioad grin at the jockey was full of fun and allection. Sleepy had his heart in the right place, though he was always growling. " You were niiglity slow starting things," he said out of the corner of his mouth. "'I reckoned ye'd gone to sleep." "I nearly got shut out." Bud Doyle answered tlie grin with a broader one. "I will suy Yellow Hornet's a buzzer when he gets moving." "Maybe we'll get a better price next time out with the Hornet." mumbled Sleepy, and became alert. "Hullo, here comes Wally Weber and a swell dame !" Bud Doyle was twenty-one that day, and full ot the joy of life. The life of a jockey was a hard one, but there was seldom a smile far from his face. Most ot his friends came from the racing stables, and he knew hardly any girls, but right from the start he likell the girl walking by the side of Wally Weber, racehorsc-ownor and pro- prietor of the big road-house known as VN'eber's Inn. The girl was slight of build, young and very pretty; dark curls framed an oval face, the brightest of eyes, the reddest of lips, and cheeks that had alluring dimples. "That was a good ride of youis, Buddy," greeted Wally Weber. Ho was a big man and rather flashily dressed. Wally seemed to oozo attability and gopd-naturo; he often looked bored aijtl slightly fuddled, but there was nothing the matter with his brain. Wally often cloaked his thoughts behind u grin or a yawn. "Thank, you, Mr. Weber," responded the jockey. "I'll say that Yellow Hornet is a game youngster." "This is Miss Ellis." In a casual way Weber introdiicod them. "You gave her the thrill of her young life. She •jpeculated a whoh- dollar on you, and shod never done such a ra-sh dootl be- fore. Babe. I'd.like you to be friends with Buddy Doyje—best rider South of Kentucky." "I think you rode a wonderfvil I'nce." The girl's voice was rather shy, and the blue eyes, with their long lashes, were rxprcssivo of great admiration. "You f<rta)nly made whoopee with Yellow Horru^t.'' "Don't pialse me, prai>e my hoitse.'' Buddy Doyle slid down fiom the .saddls- nnd held out his hand. " Yo\i aren't Ih.^ Babe Ellis that often eingB over the wireless, are you ?" "The midget, iiightingale." Wally Weber laughed. "Why don't you come Sopt^nibfr 5th, ^931^ BOY'S CINEMA ro\iJid one night and hear her sing— she's gracing my humble house for a few weeks?" "I do wish you would come." Her voice was very sincere. The convereation had lasted quite long eriough for Sleepy Jones. " Jockeys ain't got time for such place.*, thanking you all the same. Early to bed and early to rise—that's our motto, miss. If you'll excuse us we'll be getting along to the unsaddling rooms. Come on, Buddj." "Don't you let him come near my den of vice," Wally Weber mocked the trainer. "Babe, he's scared we'll make his protege go gay. Never mind, Buddy, we'll be glad to see you if you can escape from your warden." "You might come for a little while,'" pleaded the girl. "Come on. Lightning!" Sleepy Jones nudged Buddy in the ribs. "We'll havt all the officials after us if we hang around here, talking. Good-day to you. Mister Weber!" "Good-bye, Miss Ellis; I'd like to come, but you see how it is with this martinet." Bud smiled at the girl. "I'll have to content myself with listen- ing in." "You're a spoil-sport," grumbled Buddy after the weighing-in. " Wha! harm would there be in " "Now, now, now!" Sleepy became quite aggressive. "Your orders are bed at ten, so thern dives is outa your beat. What's more, for all his smiles and smirks, I wouldn't trust Mr. Wally Weber as far as I coidd see him. What's more. I don't want no arguments from you—you're a jockey, not a gigolo." The Seeds of Discontent. THAT evening there was a birthday party at Ma Clancy's house, where the trainer and his dozen jockeys and apprentices resided. Buddy was liked by all, and his voice was quite hoai'He when he had got through his speech of thanks. Ma Clancy, a motherly old .«oul, had laid out a marvellou.5 .spread, and the boys did the good food justice. "Gosh, I'll have to get some of that weight down in the morning!" Sleepy was inclined at times to be morbid. "You must have all put on several {xjunds. Heck, but it's gone ten—off to bed, the lot of yer!" Laughing ;^nd talking they went, but Buddy Doyle remained, staring down at his pile of presents. "Didn't yer hear me say 'bed'?" growled the trainer. "Y''eah, I heard you!" grinned Bud Doyle; but he frowned as he asked his question. "Have you forgotten I'm twenty-one?" " So you're a man, and can stay up a!l night!" Sleepy winked an eye and shook his head. "Yon don't swing thai stuff on me. When you're thirty-one— if you're still riding for Pop Bluke and I'm still his trainer—you'll still be goin' to bed at ten. And now no more argy- ments, my lad I" • "I call it a lot of punk!" grumbled Buddy. "Why, it's still light!" "If the sun was to say ' good-morn- ing,' it woiddn't make no difference. Arc you going, or am I going to get annoyed?" "Oh, all right, misery!" Bud gathered hi.s presents. "I hope I don't sleep a wink all night, just to spite you. Gosh, vou oughta been a warder at Sing- Sing!" Bud Doyle felt in no mood for sleep, and when he got to his room ho stood for some time by the open window gazing out over. I he distant race-course. Almost Every Tuesday he could see the spot where b« had met Babe Ellis. A grunt, a wheeze, and a shrill scream —that was old Sleepy turning on the wireless. From the open window the news bulletin came floating up from the room below, and the boy was atxjut to turn away with a yawn when the last announcement made him pause. "We are now going over to Weber's Inn, where Miss Babe Ellis will enter- tain us with some of her latest New York successes. Her first will be ' A Sweet Kentucky Maiden.' " What a sweet voice Babe had, and how her voice seemed to thrill him. Gosh, wouldn't he like to be at Weber's Inn and listening to her. She had wanted him to go ak>ng, and stupid old Sleepy had queered everything. His eyes studied the sloping roof below him— pretty easy to get <k>wa into the garden. Gosh, how he would like to go down to Weber's Inn! Why shouldn't he? Wasn't he twenty-one, and a man ? • • ■ • , . A clean-shaven, well-dressed man stared thoughtfully down the track; by his side stood Sleepy Jones, and the latter rubbed his chin and watched tlie other from narrowed lids. Pop Blake had just returned from a sea voyage, and his shaip eyes had -soon spotted trouble. "I tear back for the big race and expect to find Buddy hard at work on Six-Shooter. Only thiee days before the - big race, and I don't mind telling you. Sleepy, I've laid out more than I can afford on winning the Gold Cup. 1 come straight to the couree, and what's going on—you chewing a straw and Buddy talking to a girl. You also look as if you'd eaten something that didn't agree with you. Sleepy, so you'd best teli me here and now what's wrong." "That dame's the trouble—women aie a pesky nuisance!" Sleepy kicked viciously at a tuft of grass. "He met tho girl the day he won on Yellow Hornet, and since that day you could see him change. That was three weeks ago, and for ten nights he slid down the rainpipe to go and hear her sing round at Weber's dive—she dances and singe there. I gave him a rousting, and he just looked sulky, ihe only girl in tho world stuff, and I had no heart. I stopped him going to Weber's, but I can't stop him meeting her during the day. It ain't done his riding any harm, though he ain't the fresh, care-free Buddy we like, boss. He's just in- fatuated with this dame, and he won't listen to nowt." "She's working for Weber—bad!" Pop Blake lit a cigarette. " Suppose you sent him off on a ti-y-out and he stopped to talk to her." "See the car by tliose rails," Sleepy-, pointed. "Who's that sitting at tW wheel ?—Mr. Pesky Wally Weber. If he- thinks that mare "of his, Rosedawn, haa a chance he must be crazy." "How about giving Buddy a shake up?" Pop Blake gave his trainer a know- ing look. "Let Malonoy take over the horse—!Maloney is exercising near us, or my eyes are mistaken. Tell Buddy that he seems a bit off colour, and I reckon another lad ought to give the mare a try-out in case of accidents." "That sounds good to me!" Sleepy rubbed his hands. "I'll detail Maloney at once." The trainer hurried off. "Wally brought me down to watcb you do your stuff!" Babe gave the' youugster a dazzling smile. " I^et ma see how fast yon can go." , "I'd rather talk to you!" Buddy smiled down into the bright ey^,. then