at the bowed tendon.

"'Anybody that'll lead this hoss off the track, gets him 'n' a month's
feed,' he says.

"Before you could spit I has that bird by the head. His swipe ain't
goin' to let go of him, but Cal says: 'Turn him loose, boy!' 'N' I'm
on my way with the bird.

"That's the first one I ever owns. Jameson loans me a stall fur him.
That night a ginnie comes over from Cal's barn with two bags of oats in
a wheelbarrow.

"A newspaper guy finds out about the deal, 'n' writes it up so
everybody is hep to me playin' owner. One day I see the starter point
me out to Colonel King, who's the main squeeze in the judge's stand,
'n' they both laugh.

"I've got all winter before we has to ship, 'n' believe me I sweat some
over this bird. I done everythin' to that tendon, except make a new
one. In a month I has it in such shape he don't limp, 'n' I begins to
stick mile gallops 'n' short breezers into him. He has to wear a stiff
bandage on the dinky leg, 'n' I puts one on the left-fore, too--it
looks better.

"It ain't so long till I has this bird cherry ripe. He'll take a-holt
awful strong right at the end of a stiff mile. One day I turns him
loose, fur three-eighths, 'n' he runs it so fast he makes me dizzy.

"I know he's good, but I wants to know _how_ good, before I pays
entrance on him. I don't want the clockers to get wise to him, neither!

"Joe Nickel's the star jock that year. I've seen many a good boy on a
hoss, but I think Joe's the best judge of pace I ever see. One day
he's comin' from the weighin'-room, still in his silks. His valet's
with him carryin' the saddle. I steps up 'n' says:

"'Kin I see you private a minute, Joe?'

"'Sure thing, kid,' he says. 'N' the valet skidoos.

"'Joe,' I says, 'I've got a bird that's right. I don't know just how
good he is, but he's awful good. I want to get wise to him before I
crowds my dough on to the 'Sociation. Will you give him a work?'

"It takes an awful nerve to ask a jock like Nickel to work a hoss out,
but he's the only one can judge pace good enough to put me wise, 'n'
I'm desperate.

"'It's that Davis cripple, ain't it?' he asks.

"'That's him,' I says.

"He studies a minute, lookin' steady at me.

"'I'm your huckleberry,' he says at last. 'When do you want me?'

"'Just as she gets light to-morrow mawnin',' I says quick, fur I hasn't
believed he'd come through, 'n' I wants to stick the gaff into him
'fore he changes his mind.