e old man. "It's the best
way--the best way--and now I want you to tell them judges just how it
happened."

But Jockey Murphy had already told his story, ably seconded by his
friends, Grogan and Merritt. These boys had been interviewed by
racing judges before and, consequently, were not embarrassed.

"Judges--gentlemen," said Murphy, cap in hand--a vest-pocket edition
of a horseman, freckled, blue-eyed, and bow-legged--"this was how it
happened: That little nigger nearly spilled the whole bunch of us,
tryin' to cut acrost to the rail goin' into the turn. We yelled at
him, and he kind of lost his head--tried to yank his hoss around and
down he went. Awful slippery over there, judges. I had to pull up
with Fieldmouse, and couldn't get her to going again. She's a mean,
skulking mare, and won't run a lick after she's been interfered
with.... Who else saw it? Why, Merritt was right there somewheres,
and so was Grogan. They're all that I'm sure of. You might ask 'em
whether the nigger cut acrost or not. He's an awful reckless little
kid, and he'll kill somebody yet if he ain't more careful."

Grogan and Merritt, called in support of this statement, perjured
themselves like jockeys, and there was no conflicting note in the
testimony. Mose, coming late, told his story, but the judges were
swayed by the preponderance of evidence. It was three against one,
and that one a very poor witness, for Mose was overawed by his
surroundings and contradicted himself several times out of pure
fright. In the end he was allowed to go with a solemn warning to be
more careful in the future.

When this word was brought to Old Man Curry he lumbered heavily up
the steps and into the judges' stand, where he refused a chair and
delivered himself standing, the water dripping in tiny puddles from
the skirt of his long black coat.

"Gentlemen," said he, "you're barking up the wrong tree. I've been
expecting something like this ever since the meeting opened. My
little boy can't ride a race 'thout interference from these rascals
that take their orders from Engle and his bunch. They've tried a
dozen times to put him over the fence, and now they've killed a good
hoss for me. I ain't going to stand it. I----"

"But the other boys all say----"

"Great King!" interrupted the old man wrathfully. "Of course they do!
Told you the same identical story, didn't they? Ain't that proof
they're lying? Did you ever see three honest people that could agree
when