WANTED--A RAINBOW
At our last meeting Blister had told me of a "ringing" in years gone by that had ended disastrously for him. And now as we idled in the big empty grand-stand a full hour before it would be electrified by the leaping phrase, "They're off!" I desired further reminiscences.
"Ringing a horse must be a risky business?" I ventured.
"Humph!" grunted Blister, evidently declining to comment on the obvious. Then he glanced at me with a dry whimsical smile. "I see that little ole pad stickin' out of your pocket," he said. "Ain't she full of race-hoss talk yet?"
"Always room for one more," I replied, frankly producing the note-book.
"Well, I guess I'm the goat," he said resignedly. "I had figured to sick you on to Peewee Simpson to-day, but he ain't around, so I'll spill some chatter about ringin' a hoss among the society bunch one time, 'n' then I'll buy a bucket of suds."
"I'll buy the beer," I stated with emphasis.
"All right—just so we get it—I'll be dryer'n a covered bridge," said Blister.
"This ringin' I mentions," he went on, "happens while I'm ruled off.
"At the get-away I've got a job with a Chicago buyer, who used to live in New York. This guy has a big ratty barn. He deals mostly in broken-down skates that he sells to pedlers 'n' cabmen. Once in a while he takes a flier in high-grade stuff, 'n' one day he buys a team of French coach hosses from a breedin' farm owned by a millionaire.
"Believe me they was a grand pair—seal brown, sixteen hands 'n' haired like babies. They fans their noses with their knees, when get's the word, 'n' after I sits behind 'em 'n' watches their hock-action fur a while I feels like apologizin' to 'em fur makin' 'em haul a bum like me.
"These dolls go East,' says the guy I works fur. 'They don't pull no pig-sticker in this burg. They'll be at the Garden so much they'll head fur Madison Square whenever they're taken out.'
"He ships the pair East 'n' sends me with 'em as caretaker. I deliver 'em to a swell sales company up-town in New York.
"This concern has some joint—take it from me—every floor is just bulgin' with hosses that's so classy they sends 'em to a manicure parlor 'stead of a blacksmith's shop.
"There's a big show-ring, with a balcony all 'round it, on the top floor. They take my pair up there 'n' hook 'em to a hot wagon painted yellow, 'n' the company's main squeeze, named Brown, comes up to see 'em act. I'm facin' the door just as a guy starts to lead a hoss into the show-ring. The pair swings by, this hoss shies back sudden 'n' I see him make a queer move with his off rear leg. Brown don't see it—he's got his back to the door.
"The guy leads the hoss up to us.
"'Here's that hunter I phoned you about, Mr. Brown,' he says. The hoss is a toppy trick—bright bay, short backed, good coupled 'n' 'll weigh eleven hundred strong. But he's got a knot on his near-fore that shows plain.
"'I thought you told me he was sound?' says Brown, lookin' at the knot.
"'What's the matter with you, Mr. Brown?' says the guy. 'That little thing don't bother him. Any eight-year-old hunter that knows the game is bound to be blemished in front.'
"'Can you tell an unsound one when you look at him?' Brown asks me.
"'I can smell a dink a mile off,' I says.
"'Here's an outside party,' says Brown; 'let's hear what he has to say. Feel that bump, young man!' he says to me.
"I runs my hand over the knot.
"'That don't hurt him,' I says. 'It's on the shin 'n' part of it's thick skin.'
"'There!' says the guy. 'Your own man's against you.'
"'He's not my man,' says Brown, lookin' at me disgusted.
"'This ain't my funeral,' I says to Brown. ''N' I ain't had a call to butt in. If you tells me to butt—I butts.'
"'Go to it,' says Brown.
"'Do you throw a crutch in with this one?' I says to the guy.
"'What does he need a crutch for?' he says, givin' me a sour look.
"I takes the hoss by the head, backs him real sudden, 'n' he lifts the off-rear high 'n' stiff.
"'He's a stringer,' I says.
"Brown gives the guy the laugh.
"'You might get thirty dollars from a Jew pedler for him,' he says. 'He'll make a high-class hunter—for paper, rags and old iron.'
"'How did you know that horse was string-halted so quick?' says Brown to me when the guy has gone.
"'I told you I can smell a dink,' I says. But I don't tell him what I sees at the door.
"'I think we could use you and your nose around here,' he says. 'Are you stuck on Chicago?'
"'Me fur this joint,' I says, lookin' 'round. 'Do I have to get my hair waved more 'n' twict a week?'
"'We'll waive that in your case,' he says, laughin' at his bum joke.
"'Don't do that again,' I says. 'I've a notion to quit right here.'
"'I'd hate to lose an old employee like you—I'll have to be more careful,' he says—'n' I'm workin' fur Mr. Brown.
"About a week after this, I'm bringin' a hackney up to the showroom fur Brown to look at, when a young chap dressed like a shoffer stops me.
"'I wish to see Mr. Brown, my man,' he says. 'Can you tell me where he is?'
"No shofe can spring this 'my man' stuff on me, 'n' get away with it. But a blind kitten can see this guy's all the gravy. There's somethin' about him makes you think the best ain't near as good as he wants. I tells him to come along with me, 'n' when we gets up to the showroom he sticks a card at Brown.
"'Yes, indeed—Mr. Van Voast!' says Brown, when he squints at the card. 'You're almost the only member of your family I have been unable to serve. I believe I have read that you are devoted to the motor game.'
"'That's an indiscretion I hope to rectify—I want a hunter,' says the young chap.
"'Take that horse down and bring up Sally Waters,' says Brown to me.
"This Sally Waters is a chestnut mare that's kep' in a big stall where she gets the best light 'n' air in the buildin'. A lot of guys have looked at her, but the price is so fierce nobody takes her.
"'Is that the best you have?' says the young chap, when I gets back with her.
"'Yes, Mr. Van Voast,' says Brown. 'And she's as good as ever stood on four legs! She'll carry your weight nicely, too.'
"'Is she fast?' says the young chap.
"'After racing at ninety miles an hour, anything in horse-flesh would seem slow to you, I presume,' says Brown. 'But she is an extremely fast hunter, and very thorough at a fence.'
"'Do you know Ferguson's Macbeth?' says the young chap.
"'I ought to,' says Brown. 'We imported Macbeth and Mr. Ferguson bought him from me.'
"The young chap studies a minute.
"'I might as well tell you that I want a hunter to beat Macbeth for the Melford Cup,' he says at last.
"'Oh, oh!' says Brown. 'That's too large an order, Mr. Van Voast—I can't fill it.'
"'You don't think this mare can beat Macbeth?' says the young chap.
"'No, sir, I do not,' says Brown. 'Nor any other hunter I ever saw. There might be something in England that would be up to it, but I don't know what it would be—and money wouldn't buy it if I knew.'
"The young chap won't look at the mare no more, 'n' Brown tells me to put her up. I hustles her back to the stall, 'n' goes down to the street door 'n' waits. There's a big gray automobile at the curb, with six guns stickin' out of her side in front—she looks like a battle-ship. Pretty soon the young chap comes out 'n' starts to board her 'n' I braces him.
"'I think I know where you can get the hoss you're lookin' fur,' I says.
"He stares at me kind-a puzzled fur a minute.
"'Oh, yes, you are the man who brought the mare up-stairs,' he says. 'What leads you to believe you can find a hunter good enough to beat Macbeth?'
"'I ain't said nothin' about a hunter,' I says. 'Would you stand fur a ringer?'
"'I think I get your inference,' he says. 'Be a little more specific, please.'
"'If I puts you hep to a hoss that ain't no more a hunter than that automobile,' I says, 'but can run like the buzz-wagon 'n' jump like a hunter—could you use him in your business?'
"'What sort of a horse would that be?' he says.
"'A thoroughbred,' I says. 'A bang-tail.'
"'Oh—a runner,' he says. 'Do you know anything about the runners?'
"'A few,' I says. 'I'm on the track nine years.'
"'What are you doing here?' he says.
"'Ruled off,' I says.
"'Hm-m!' he says. 'What for?'
"'Ringin',' I says.
"'You seem to run to that sort of thing,' he says. 'What's your name?' he asks.
"'Blister Jones,' I says.
"'Delightful!' he says. 'I'm glad I met you. Who has this remarkable horse?'
"'Peewee Simpson,' I says.
"'Equally delightful! I'd like to meet him, too,' he says.
"'He's in Loueyville,' I says.
"'Regrettable,' he says. 'What's the name of his horse?'
"'Rainbow,' I says.
"'And I thought this was to be a dull day,' he says. 'Jump in here and take a ride. I don't know that I care to go rainbow-chasing assisted by Blisters, and Peewees—but nefarious undertakings have always appealed to me, and I desire to cultivate your acquaintance.'
"We goes fur a long ride in the battle-ship. He don't say much—just asks questions 'n' listens to my guff. At last I opens up on the Rainbow deal, 'n' I tries all I know to get him goin'—I sure slips him some warm conversation.
"'You heard what Brown said of Macbeth!' he says. 'Why are you so certain this Rainbow can beat him in a steeplechase?'
"'Why, listen, man!' I says. 'This Rainbow is the best ever. He can beat any brush-topper now racin' if the handicapper don't overload him. He's been coppin' where they race your eyeballs off. He's been makin' good against the real thing. He's a thoroughbred! If he turns in one of these here parlor races fur gents, with a bunch of hunters, they won't know which way he went!'
"'The runners I have seen are all neck and legs. They don't look like hunters at all,' he says.
"'You're thinkin' about these here flat-shouldered sprinters,' I says. 'This Rainbow is a brush-topper. He's got a pair of shoulders on him 'n' he's the jumpin'est thoroughbred ever I saw. Course he's rangier 'n most huntin'-bred hosses, but with a curb to put some bow in his neck, he'll pass fur a hunter anywhere!'
"'There is one sad thing I haven't told you,' he says. 'I must ride the horse myself.'
"'What's sad about that?' I says. 'You ain't much over a hundred 'n' forty, at a guess.'
"'The trouble is not with my weight—it's my disposition,' he says. 'I have not ridden for ten years. In fact I never rode much. To tell you the truth—I'm afraid of a horse.'
"Say—I'd liked that young chap fine till then! I think he's handin' me a josh at first.
"'You're kiddin' me, ain't you?' I says.
"'No,' he says. 'I'm not kidding you. I've fought my fear of horses since I was old enough to think. Lately it has become necessary for me to ride, and I'm going to do it—it it kills me!'
"We were back to my joint by this time 'n' he looks at me 'n' laughs.
"'Cheer up!' he says. 'I'll think over what you told me and let you know. I go over to Philadelphia to-morrow to race in a "buzz-wagon," as you call it. I don't want you to think me entirely chicken-hearted—and I'll take you with me, if Brown can spare you.'
"The next day he shows up in the battle-ship.
"'Blister,' he says, 'I don't know just how far I'll be willing to go in the affair, but if you can get Rainbow, I'll buy him.'
"'Now you've said somethin',' I says. 'Head fur the nearest telegraph office 'n' I'll wire Peewee.'
"'They're likely to ask a stiff price fur this hoss,' I says when we gets to the telegraph office.
"'Buy him,' he says.
"'Do you mean the sky's the limit?' I says, 'n' he nods.
"We cross on the ferry after sendin' the wire. He has the battle-ship under wraps till we hit the open country, 'n' then he lets her step. We gets to goin' faster 'n' faster. I can't see, 'n' I think my eyebrows have blowed off. I'm so scared I feel like my stumick has crawled up in my chest, but I hopes this is the limit, 'n' I grits my teeth to keep from yelpin'. Just then we hits a long straight road, 'n' what we'd been doin' before seemed like backin' up. I can't breathe 'n' I can't stand no more of it.
"'Holy cats!' I yells. 'Cut it!'
"'What's the matter?' he says, when he's slowed down.
"'Holy cats!' I says again. 'Is that what racin' in these things is like?'
"'Oh, no,' he says. 'My mechanic took my racing car over yesterday. This is only a roadster.'
"'Only a—what?' I says.
"'Only a roadster—a pleasure car,' he says.
"'Oh—a pleasure car,' I says. 'It's lucky you told me.'
"'It's all in getting accustomed to it,' he says.
"I spends the night at a hotel in Philadelphia with a guy named Ben, who's the mechanic, 'n' the next mawnin' I sees the race. Say! Prize-fightin', or war, or any of them little games is like button-button to this automobile racin'! They kills two guys that day 'n' why they ain't all killed is by me. The young chap finishes second to some Eyetalian—but that Dago sure knowed he'd been in a race.
"''N' he's the guy that's afraid of a hoss!' I says to myself. 'Now, wouldn't that scald you?'
"When he leaves me at my joint in New York the young chap writes on a card 'n' hands it to me.
"'Here's my name and present address,' he says. 'Let me know when you hear from our friend Peewee.'
"Printed on the card is 'Mr. William Dumont Van Voast,' 'n' in pencil, 'Union Club, New York City.'
"The next day I gets a wire from Peewee in answer to mine.
"'Sound as a dollar. Eighteen hundred bones buys him. P. W. Simpson,' it says.
"I phones Mr. Van, 'n' he says to go to it—so I wires Peewee.
"'Check on delivery if sound. You know me. Ship with swipe first express. Blister Jones.'
"In two days Duckfoot Johnson leads ole Rainbow into the joint, 'n' I tells Brown it's a hoss fur Mr. Van. I looks him over good 'n' he's O. K. I gets Mr. Van on the phone 'n' he comes up 'n' writes a check fur eighteen hundred, payable to Peewee. He gives this to Duckfoot, slips him twenty-five bucks fur hisself, 'n' hands him the fare back to Loueyville besides.
"'What next?' says Mr. Van to me. 'Do we need a burglar's kit, and some nitroglycerin, or does that class of crime come later?'
"'We want a vet. right now,' I says. 'This bird has got to lose some tail feathers.'
"'Well, you are the chief buccaneer!' says Mr. Van. 'I'll serve as one of the pirate crew at present. When you have the good ship Rainbow shortened at the stem and ready to carry the jolly Roger over the high seas—I should say, fences—let me know. In the meantime,' he says, slippin' me five twenties, 'here are some pieces-of-eight with which to buy cutlasses, hand grenades and other things we may need.'
"I has the vet. dock Rainbow's tail, 'n' as soon as it heals I lets Mr. Van know. He tells me to bring the hoss to Morrisville, New Jersey, on the three o'clock train next day.
"When I unloads from the express car at Morrisville, there's Mr. Van and a shoffer in the battle-ship.
"'Just follow along behind, Blister!' says Mr. Van, 'n' drives off slow down the street.
"We go through town 'n' out to a big white house, with pillars down the front. Mr. Van stops the battle-ship at the gates.
"'Take the car to the Williamson place—Mr. Williamson understands,' he says to the shofe.
"I wonders why he stops out here—it's a quarter of a mile to the house. When we gets to the house there's an old gent, with gray hair, settin' on the porch. He gets up when he sees us, 'n' limps down the steps with a cane.
"'Don't disturb yourself, Governor!' says Mr. Van. 'Anybody here?'
"'No, I'm alone,' says the old gent. 'Your sister is with the Dandridges. Your man came this morning, so I was expecting you.' Then he looks at Rainbow. 'What's that?' he says.
"'A horse I've bought,' says Mr. Van. 'I'm thinking of going in for hunting.'
"'Oh! She's brought you to it, has she?' says the old gent. 'I never could. Why do you bring the horse here?'
"Mr. Van flushes up.
"'You know what a duffer I am on a horse, Governor,' he says. 'Well, I want to try for the Melford Cup. I'd like to build a course on the place, and school myself under your direction.'
"'Ah, ha!' says the old gent. 'And then the conquering hero will descend on Melford, to capture the place in general, and one of its fair daughters in particular!'
"'Something like that,' says Mr. Van.
"'I'll be glad to help you all I can,' says the old gent, 'just so long as you don't bring one of those stinking things you usually inhabit on these premises!'
"'It's a bargain. I've already sent the one I came in to Ralph Williamson,' says Mr. Van, 'n' we takes Rainbow to the stables.
"I liked Mr. Van's old man right away, 'n' when he finds out I knows as much about a hoss as he does, he treats me like a brother.
"He gets busy quick, 'n' has the men fix up a mile course on the place with eight fences in it—some of 'em fierce.
"'Twice around, and you have the Melford course to a dot,' he says. 'Now, young man,' he says to me, 'you get the horse ready and I'll go to work on the rider.' 'N' believe me, he does it.
"His bum leg won't let him ride no more, but he puts Mr. Van on a good steady jumper, 'n' drives besides the course in a cart, tellin' him what to do. He keeps Mr. Van goin' till I think he'll put him out of business—'n' say!—but he cusses wicked when things don't go to suit him!
"'Stick your knees in and keep your backbone limber! Hold his head up now at this jump—don't drag at his mouth that way! Why! damn it all!… you haven't as good hands as a cab-driver,' is the kind of stuff he keeps yellin' at poor Mr. Van.
"I'm workin' Rainbow each day, 'n' in three weeks I take him twice around the course at a good clip.
"'The hoss'll do in another week,' I says to the old gent.
"'I'll be ready fur you,' he says, shuttin' his mouth, 'n' that was the worst week of all for Mr. Van. But he improved wonderful, 'n' one mawnin' he takes Rainbow over the course at speed.
"'Not half bad!' says the old gent when they come back. 'He's not up to his horse yet,' he says to me. 'But between 'em they'll worry that Melford crowd some, or I miss my guess!'
"A day or so after that we starts for Melford. The old gent says good-by to me, 'n' then he sticks out his mitt at Mr. Van.
"'God bless you, boy!' he says. 'I wish you luck both in the race and—elsewhere.'
"Say, this Melford is the horsiest burg ever I saw! They don't do nothin' but ride 'em 'n' drive 'em 'n' chew the rag about 'em—men 'n' women the same. Even the kids has toppy little ponies and has hoss shows fur their stuff.
"They has what they call a Hunt Club, 'n' everybody hangs out there. This club gives the cup Mr. Van wants to win. The race fur it is pulled off once a year, 'n' only club members can enter.
"The Ferguson guy has won the race twice with the Macbeth hoss 'n' if he wins it again he keeps the cup. The race is due in two weeks, but there ain't much talk about it—everybody knows Ferguson'll win sure.
"This Ferguson has all the kale in the world. He lives in a house so big it looks like the Waldorf. But from what I hear, the bloods ain't so awful strong fur him—except his ridin', they all take their hats off to that.
"There's a girl named Livingston 's the best rider among the dames, 'n', believe me, she's a swell doll—she's the niftiest filly I ever gets my lamps on—she's all to the peaches 'n' cream.
"It don't take me long to see that Mr. Van is nutty, right, about this one, but it looks like Ferguson has the bulge on him, 'cause her 'n' Ferguson is always out in front when they chase the hounds, 'n' they ride together a lot. We're at Mr. Van's brother's place, 'n' when we first get there Mr. Van puts me wise.
"'Blister,' he says, 'you must now assume the disguise of a groom. While you and I know we are partners in crime, custom requires an outward change in our heretofore delightful relationship—keep your eyes open and act accordingly.'
"I'm dead hep to what he means, 'n' when I'm rigged up like all the rest of the swipes around there, I touches my hat to him whenever he tells me anythin'.
"Everybody joshes Mr. Van about his ridin', but they get over that sudden—the first time he chases hounds with 'em ole Rainbow 'n' him stays right at the head of the procession. I'm waitin' at the club to take the hoss home after the run. When Mr. Van is turnin' him over to me Miss Livingston comes up.
"'I'm so proud of you!' she says to him. 'It was splendid … I told you you could do anything you tried!'
"'Rainbow's the chap who deserves your approval,' says Mr. Van, pointin' to the hoss.
"'Indeed, he does—the old precious!' she says, 'n' rubs her face against Rainbow's nose. Just then Ferguson rides up with a English gink who's a friend of Mr. Van's, 'n' the dame beats it into the club-house. This Englishman is a lord or a duke or somethin', 'n' he's visitin' Mr. Van's brother. Ferguson ain't on Macbeth. He's rode a bay mare that day, 'n' Rainbow has outrun 'n' out-jumped her.
"'That's quite a horse you have there, Van,' Ferguson says. 'A bit leggy—isn't he?'
"'Perhaps he is,' says Mr. Van. 'But I like something that can get over the country.'
"'Going to enter him for the cup?' says Ferguson.
"'I don't know yet,' says Mr. Van, careless. 'I must see the committee, and tell them his antecedents—this horse rather outclasses most hunters.'
"'He doesn't outclass mine, over the cup course, for five thousand!' says Ferguson, gettin' red.
"'Done!' says Mr. Van, quiet-like. 'If the committee says I'm eligible we'll settle it in the cup race. If not, we can run a match.'
"'Entirely satisfactory,' says Ferguson, 'n' starts to go. But he comes back, 'n' looks at Mr. Van wicked. 'By the way,' he says, 'money doesn't interest either of us at present. Suppose we raise the stake this way—the loser will take a trip abroad, for a year, and in the meantime we both agree to let matters rest—in a certain quarter.'
"'Done!' says Mr. Van again. He looks at the other guy colder 'n ice when he says it.
"Ferguson nods to him 'n' rides off.
"The English gink has heard the bet, 'n' when Ferguson beats it he shakes his head.
"'Aw, old chap!' he says. 'That's a bit raw—don't you think? I'm sorry you let him draw you. It's a beastly mess.'
"'I'm not afraid of him and his horse!' says Mr. Van. But I can see he ain't feelin' joyous.
"'Damn him and his hawss—and you too!' says the English gink. 'Aw, it's the young girl you've dragged into it, Billy!'
"'It's a confidential matter, and no names were mentioned,' says Mr. Van.
"'Don't quibble, old chap!' says the English gink. 'The name's nothing. And as for its being confidential—Ferguson is sure to tell that—aw—French puppy he's so thick with, and the viscawnt'll be—aw—tea-tabling it about by five o'clock!'
"'You're right, of course,' says Mr. Van, slow. 'It was a low thing to do—a cad's trick. No wonder you English are so rotten superior. You don't need brains—the right thing's bred into your bones. Your tempers never show you up. We revert to the gutter at the pinch.'
"'Oh, I say! That's bally nonsense!' says the English gink. 'I would have done the same thing.'
"'Not unless the fifteen hundred years it's taken to make you were wiped off the slate,' says Mr. Van. 'However, I'll have to see it through now.'
"The guys that run the club say Rainbow can start in the cup race. Mr. Van tells me, 'n' the next week I watch him while he sends the hoss over the course. We're comin' up towards the club-house, after the work-out, 'n' we run into Miss Livingston. She hands Mr. Van the icy stare 'n' he starts to say something but she breaks in.
"'I wonder you care to waste any words on a mere racing wager,' she says.
"'Please let me try to explain …' says Mr. Van.
"'There can be no explanation. What you did was the act of a boor—and a fool,' says the dame, 'n' walks on by.
"I think over what she says. 'She's more sore cause she thinks he'll lose than anythin' else,' I says to myself. 'He ain't in so bad, after all.' But Mr. Van don't tumble. He's awful glum from then on.
"There's a fierce mob of swells at the course the day of the race, classy rigs as far as you can see. The last thing I says to Mr. Van is:
"'You've got the step of them any place in the route, but you're on a thoroughbred, 'n' he'll run hisself into the ground if you let him. You don't know how to rate him right—so stay close to the Macbeth hoss till you come to the last fence, then turn Rainbow loose, 'n' he'll make his stretch-run alone.'
"There's six entries, but the race is between Rainbow and Macbeth from the get-away. Macbeth is a black hoss, 'n' I never believed till then a hunter could romp that fast. He was three len'ths ahead of the field at the first fence, with Rainbow right at his necktie. They gets so far ahead, nobody sees the other starters from the second fence on. Mr. Van rides just like I tells him, 'n' lets the black hoss make the pace. Man!—that hunter did run! Towards the end both hosses begin to tire, but the clip was easier fur the thoroughbred, 'n' I see Rainbow's got the most left.
"Before they come to the last fence Mr. Van turns his hoss loose like I tells him, 'n' he starts to come away from Macbeth. My! but those swells did holler! They never thought Rainbow has a chance. At the last fence he's a len'th in front, 'n' right there it happens Mr. Van don't take hold of him enough to keep his head up, 'n' he blunders at the fence 'n' comes down hard on his knees. Mr. Van slides clear to the hoss's ears, 'n' the crowd gives a groan as Macbeth comes over 'n' goes by.
"'He's gone!' I says to myself, 'n' I can't believe it when he gets back in the saddle somehow 'n' starts to ride. But the black hoss has a good six len'ths 'n' now two hundred yards to go.
"'He'll never reach …' I says out loud. 'He'll never reach …'
"Then Rainbow begins his stretch-run with the blood comin' out of his knees, 'n' while he's a tired hoss, a gamer one never looks through a bridle. I ain't knockin' that hunter—there was no canary in him, but I think a game thoroughbred's the gamest hoss that lives!
"Ole Rainbow is a straight line from his nose to his tail. His ears is flat 'n' his mouth's half open fur air. Every jump he takes looks thirty feet long 'n' he's gettin' to the black hoss fast. I'm watchin' the distance to go 'n' all of a sudden I furgets where I am—.
"'He wins sure as hell!' I hollers.
"'Oh, will he?' says a voice. I looks up 'n' there's Miss Livingston sittin' on her hoss, her fists doubled up 'n' her face whiter'n chalk.
"About ten len'ths from the finish Rainbow gets to the black 'n' they look each other in the eye. But them long jumps of the thoroughbred breaks the hunter's heart, 'n' Rainbow comes away, 'n' wins by a len'th.…
"After I've cooled Rainbow out, 'n' bandaged his knees at the club stables, I starts fur home with him.
"I'm just leavin' the main road, to take the short cut, when Miss Livingston gallops by, with a groom trailin'. She looks up the cross-road, sees me 'n' the hoss, 'n' reins in. She says somethin' to the groom 'n' he goes on.
"Miss Livingston comes up the crossroad alone, 'n' stops when she gets to us.
"'Is that Rainbow?' she says.
"'Yes'm,' I says.
"'Help me down, please,' she says. I tries to do it, but I don't make a good job of it.
"'You're not a lady's groom?' she says, smilin'.
"'No'm,' I says.
"'I should like to pat the winner;' she says. 'May I?'
"'Go as far as you like,' I says.
"'I beg pardon?' she says, lookin' at me funny.
"'Yes'm, you can pat him,' I says.
"She takes Rainbow by the head, 'n' sort of hugs it, 'n' rubs the tips of her fingers over his eyelids. Then she whispers to him, but I hears it.
"'Old precious!' she says. 'I've always loved Rainbows! Do you bring a fair day, too?'
"Just then a black auto sneaks around the bend of the main road, 'n' Mr. Van's drivin' it. He sees us, stops, 'n' comes up the side road to where we are. She don't hear him till he's right close. Then she backs away from Rainbow.
"'I thought you might become tired of your sudden interest in hunting, Mr. Van Voast,' she says. 'And I should like to own this horse—I was just looking at him,' she tries to say it haughty, but it don't seem to scare him none. He looks at her steady.
"'If I give you a rainbow, will you give me its equivalent?' he says.
"'A pot of gold? Yes— How much will you take?' she says, but she don't look at him no more.
"'A pot of gold is at the end,' he says. 'This is the beginning, dear.… I want a promise.'
"'That would be a fair exchange, would it not?' she says, 'n' looks up at him. I never see eyes look like that before. They puts me in mind of when the band's playin' as the hosses go to the post fur the Kentucky Derby.
"'Blister,' says Mr. Van, 'show the horses the view over the hill; they'll enjoy it.'
"I'm on my way in a hurry, but hears her say:
"'Oh, Billy, not here!'
"They don't come along fur half an hour. When they does, Mr. Van says to me:
"'Lead Rainbow to the Livingston stables, Blister. He has a new owner.'
"'Does you get a good price fur him?' I says, like I don't tumble to nothin'.
"'What a remarkable groom!' says Miss Livingston.
"'Isn't he?' says Mr. Van. Then he comes 'n' grabs me by the mitt. 'Don't worry about the price, old boy,' he says. 'No horse ever brought so much before!'"