sted crost lak
a jay-bird. It's mighty good sense to press yoh luck as fur's it'll go,
honey, but a oudacious sin to set right out to bust it. An' 'member
what ole Zack say 'bout dat, 'caze it mought do you a heap of good some
day!"

Zack's saddle was finally tied on with a piece of clothesline and,
putting his foot in a rope stirrup, he mounted.

"Now I'se gwine arter dat nickel," he declared. "Scramble up on yoh
dumplin' an' come 'long! Li'l Mesmie," he looked down at the girl, "you
stan' right dar an' squint yoh eyes good, an' you'll see de hottes'
Kentucky Derby ever run!"

Bip led his pony to the horseblock, and by much squirming managed to
wriggle on; then trotted over to Uncle Zack.

"We're ready," he cried, his face alight with excitement. "How much
start'll you give me?"

"Staht! I ain' gwine give you _no_ staht! You'se wuss'n a gal!"

"Why ain' you gwine give him no staht?" an indignant voice called, and,
turning, he beheld Aunt Timmie leaning against the house complacently
regarding them.

"Of course you'll give him a start!" the Colonel thundered, thereby
showing to what extent he had been reading during the past half hour.

"It wouldn't be sporty not to give him a start, Uncle Zack," came still
another voice, this time from the shrubbery where Brent, returning from
a dabble at his work, had halted in the keenest amusement.

"Well, 'pon mah word," the old fellow scratched his head. "It looks lak
I'se booked to race de whole fam'ly. Marse John, how much you reckon I'd
ought to give 'im? 'Foh you answers, jes' keep in mind dat dis heah keg
of dynermite I'se ridin' ain' got no shoes on, an' dese heah ropes is
mighty rotten; an', ef we goes our best, de mule ain' gwine be de
onlies' one dat'll need a hawse-doctor! I ain' got no nickel, no-way!"

Timmie was shaking with mirth. "I wish you'd git yohse'f kilt," she
affectionately laughed at him. "Go on, den, an' find de
Willer-de-Wispies. De chile's done been honin' 'bout 'em in his sleep.
An' mind, don' let 'im git nigh no pisen-ivy! An' Zack," she called, as
they were riding away with Mesmie now up behind Bip, "git 'im back heah
by twelve!"

Still chuckling, she waddled around to the front, where only she and
Zack, of all the servants, were permitted to tarry, and sat upon the
lowest step.

CHAPTER XX

A STARTLING CONFESSION

"That ought to have been a fine race, Brent," the Colonel wiped his
forehead and laughed. "But I suspect it woul