STL All Sports

A racetrack tout, down on his luck and without a thin dime to his name, was standing outside the gate to Belmont Park, and wondering how in the world he was going to manage to get in to conduct his nefarious business. He had been having a miserable run of luck and he was beginning to contemplate the relative pleasures of suicide when a well-dressed stranger suddenly tapped him on the shoulder.

"I have an extra clubhouse ticket," said the stranger. "Would you care to be my guest?"

After making sure that the stranger was flesh and blood and not an angel in disguise, the tout readily accepted. When they were comfortably seated, the tout addressed his host cautiously. "You like to bet, sir?" he asked.

"When I have a decent tip," replied the well-dressed gentleman.

The tout pulled himself together and went to work. "I'll tell you," he whispered, "it's only because you've been so kind that I can pass this along. I have a very strong line into one of the stables starting a horse in the first race, and I have been assured that it can't miss. Now, if you will bet a few bucks for me when you bet for yourself, I'll be glad to give you this sure thing."

The stranger agreed with enthusiasm. He bet a thousand dollars for himself and a hundred for the tout.

Unfortunately, the tout's luck was still bad, and the horse ran out of the money.

"Sorry," said the tout, "but did you see how that dog crossed over on our horse just when he was ready to make his move? I got a much better tip on the next race if you're still willing to bet."

Again the well-heeled stranger agreed, to the shocked surprise of the tout. Again he wagered a thousand dollars for himself and a hundred for the tout.

But again, the beast ran far out of the money. Strangely enough, the soft touch had no complaint to make and the tout kept after him on the same basis through the rest of the card. Eight races were played and on each race one hundred dollars ran for the tout. To the tipster's amazement, never a squawk came from his host, who had dropped eight thou sand dollars.

After the last race the stranger invited the tout to dinner and a show. "You've had a bad day," he sympathized, "so please accept my hospitality this evening. And tomorrow we will come back to Belmont and try again."

The tout had a big time with his generous host and left him late in the evening after promising to meet him again the next afternoon. On his way home the tout ran into an old friend and confederate. To him he spilled the whole story. "Just think of it," he said in wonder., "the guy blows eight thousand clams for himself and eight hundred for me, and he still wants me to go back and try again tomorrow. What a lousy break! All that dough I got riding for me and I don't go to the windows once to collect."

"Brother," said the tout's colleague, "get rid of that no-good guy. He's hard luck."