You said yourself he only won for you when all the others fell down.
It's kind of difficult to frame up races that way. Jockeys hate to
take the chances. Will two hundred buy him? Two hundred, right in
your hand?"

"Oh, come over here and set down!" said Slim. "You ain't in any
hurry, are you? Nothing you've said yet interests me. On the level,
you ain't got a suspicion of what a good horse this is!"

"No, but I kind of suspicion what a bad hoss he is." Old Man Curry
resumed his seat on the bale of hay and produced his packet of
fine-cut tobacco. "You tell me how good he is," said he, "and I'll
listen, but before you open up here's what Solomon says: 'The simple
believeth every word, but the prudent man looketh well to his going.'
Hoss tradin' is no job for a simple man, but I made a livin' at it
before you was born. Now fire away, and don't tell me this Pharaoh is
a gift. 'Whoso boasteth himself of a false gift is like clouds and
wind without rain.' I reckon Solomon meant mostly wind. Now you can
cut loose an' tell me how much hoss this is."

Two hours later Old Man Curry arrived at his barn leading Pharaoh. He
had acquired the hammer-head for the sum of $265 and Slim had thrown
in the halter. Shanghai, Curry's hostler and handy man, stared at the
new member of the racing string with open-mouthed and pop-eyed
amazement.

"Lawd's sake! What _is_ that, a cam-u-el?"

"No, I don't reckon he's a camel, exactly," replied the old man. "I
don't know just what he is, Shanghai, but I'm aimin' to find out
soon. The man I got him from allowed as he was a race hoss."

"Huh-uh, kunnel! He sutny don' ree'semble no runnin' hawss to _me_. I
neveh yet see a head shape' like that on anything whut could run."
Shanghai came closer and examined the equine stranger carefully. "Yo'
an ugly brute, big hawss: ugly no name faw it. Oh-oh, kunnel; he got
a knowin' eye, ain't he? If this hawss is wise as he look, he ought
to be a judge in the Soopreme Cote! Yes, suh; somepin' besides bone
in that ole hammeh-head!"

"I bought him for his eyes," said Old Man Curry. "His eyes and his
name. This is Pharaoh, Shanghai."

"Faro, eh?" The negro chuckled. "Thass a game where yo' gits action
two ways: bet it is or it ain't. Now, mebbe this yere Faro is a race
hawss, an' mebbe he ain't, but if yo' eveh puts him in with early
speed an' a short distance to go, betteh play him with a copper,
kunnel. He got same chance as a eagle flyin' a mile 'gainst