rear came shrill encouragement.

"Thass whut I calls reg'luh race ridin', jock! Let him out if he got
some lef'! Let him out!"

Carried away by these kind words, Herman forgot his instructions:
forgot everything but the thrill of the race. He drove his heels into
Zanzibar's sides and crouched low in the saddle. The cold dawn wind
cut like a knife. After a time there came a wail from the rear.

"Nothin' to it, jock! You too good! Too good! Wait faw me."

Herman drew rein, and soon Mose was alongside again. "Canter 'em a
while now," said he. "Say, who taught you to ride like that?"

"Nobody," answered Herman modestly. "I just picked it up."

"A natchel-bawn race rideh. Sometimes you finds 'em. I wish't I could
set a hawss down like that. Show me again."

"It's easy," bragged Herman, and proceeded to demonstrate that
statement. Again the compliments floated from the rear, coupled with
requests for speed, and yet more speed. Mose was not an apt pupil,
however, for he required a third lesson, and at the end of it
Zanzibar was blowing heavily. Mose suggested that they turn and go
back. "If I could git that much out of a hawss, I wouldn't take off
my cap to no jock!" said he. "Whyn't you make Johnson give you a
mount once in a while?"

"He says I ain't smart enough," was the sulky reply.

Little Mose laughed. "He jus' pig-headed, thass all ail him! You like
to git a reg'luh job ridin' faw a good man?"

"_Would_ I!"

"Well, I knows a man whut wants a good boy. See that tree yondeh?
That big one? Le's see who kin get there first!"

"It--it's pretty far, ain't it?"

"Shucks! Quahteh of a mile, mebbe. Come on!"

But it was nearer half a mile, and the three brisk sprints had told
on the colt. Boot him never so hard, it was all Herman could do to
keep Zanzibar on even terms with Mose's mount.

"You on'y foolin' 'ith me. He kin do betteh than that! We in the
stretch now; _shake him up_!"

Zanzibar was shaken up for the fourth and last time--shaken up to the
limit--and Mose was generous enough to say that the race was a dead
heat.

As the boys brought the horses to a walk, another negro stepped out
from behind a tree, a blanket on his arm. Mose slipped from the
saddle and tossed the bridle to Shanghai.

"Ain't you goin' to ride back to the track?" demanded Herman.

"No. My boss, he always wants this skate blanketed an' led round a
while.... Sufferin' mackerel, jock! What you goin' do 'ith that
hawss? Shave him