"Cooley" is apparently a corruption of the French word "courir," to run. "Kuitan" is a horse. Hence a "cooley kuitan" in Chinook signifies a race horse.
Angus shook his head. He knew very well what Sam Paul intended doing with this race horse. There was a local race meet each year, in connection with the local fair. The race meet outsized the fair, dwarfed it in interest. It drew tin horns and sure-thing gamblers as fresh meat draws flies. These gentry ran various games, open when they could and under cover when they could not. Then there were men with a seasoned old ringer under a new name, or a couple of skates with which to pull off a faked match race. There were various races, but the big event was a mile for horses locally owned. There was some excellent stock in the country, and great rivalry developed.
In this race each year the Indians had entered some alleged running horse and backed it gamely. But each year they lost, their horses being neither trained nor ridden properly, and being completely outclassed as well; for as a rule they were merely good saddle cayuses and overweighted at that. This year French's horse, a beautiful, bright bay named Flambeau, seemed likely to win. Angus had seen him and admired him. Therefore he shook his head.
"You only think you've got a cooley kuitan," he said. "Keep out of that race, Paul Sam. You'll only lose money."
"Him good," the Indian insisted. "S'pose him get good rider him win. Injun boy no good to ride. Injun boy all right in Injun race; no good in white man's race."
"That's true enough," Angus agreed. "Injun boy don't kumtux the game. Well, what about it?"
"Mebbe-so you catch white boy to ride um?" Paul Sam suggested.
"Do you mean Turkey?" Angus queried.
"Ha-a-lo," Paul Sam negatived. "White boy, all same ride white man's horse."
"A jockey! Where would I get you a jockey?"