t lordly scorn. "It's a good
thing those judges didn't take off my boots. Then they _would_ have
found something!" He fumbled for a moment and produced eight
pasteboards. "I had sixteen dollars saved up and one of the boys bet
it for me--every nickel of it on the nose. Seventy-five dollars! I'm
over eight hundred winner to the race!"

"Holy mackerel!" ejaculated the Kid. "What are you going to do with
all that money?"

"I'm goin' to buy a diamond pin and a gold watch and a ring with a
red stone in it and a suit of clothes and an overcoat and a derby
hat and a pair of silk socks and a porterhouse steak four inches
thick and a----"

"E--nough!" said the Kid. "Sufficient! If there's anything left over,
you better erect a monument to the guy that discovered electricity!"

This happened long ago. Hopwood's grocery store still does a
flourishing business. Over the cash register hangs a crayon portrait
of a large yellow horse with four white stockings and a blaze. The
original of the portrait hauls the Hopwood delivery wagon. Irritated
teamsters sometimes ask Mr. Hopwood's delivery man why he does not
drive where he is looking.

SANGUINARY JEREMIAH

It was not yet dawn, but Old Man Curry was abroad; more than that, he
was fully dressed. It was a tradition of the Jungle Circuit that he
had never been seen in any other condition. The owner of the "Bible
horses," in shirt sleeves and bareheaded, would have created a
sensation among his competing brethren, some of whom pretended to
believe that the patriarch slept in his clothes. Others, not so
positive on this point, averred that Old Man Curry slept with one eye
open and one ear cocked toward the O'Connor barn, where his enemies
met to plot against him.

Summer and winter, heat and cold, there was never a change in the old
man's raiment. The rusty frock coat--black where it was not green,
grey along the seams, and ravelled at the skirts--the broad-brimmed
and battered slouch hat, and the frayed string tie had seen fat years
and lean years on all the tracks of the Jungle Circuit, and no man
could say when these things had been new or their wearer had been
young. Old Man Curry was a fixture, as familiar a sight as the fence
about the track, and his shabby attire was as much a part of his
quaint personality as his habit of quoting the wise men of the Old
Testament and borrowing the names of the prophets for his horses.

The first faint golden glow appeared in the