Reinforced by Billy Hickman, the preacher, and several church members, renewed her efforts to have Uncle Joe ally himself with the church. Uncle Joe assured one good brother that if sheep-washing time was over—it was then September and sheep are washed in May or June—he would join the church. He explained that he felt he must have a little "licker" sheep-washing time or he would "ketch the rheumatiz."
The District Fair was on, Black Fan was entered in the free-for-all pace. She was considered a joke by horsemen and the knowing ones. But Alfred would have bet all he had that Black Fan was the fastest goer in the world. Ike Bailey's Black Bess, John Krepps' Billy, John Patterson's Morgan Messenger, were the other entries, all under saddle except Morgan Messenger. Patterson drove him to a sulky, the only sulky in the county, the wheels higher than the head of the driver. It was the idea of the builder the larger the wheels the greater the speed.
Black Fan had much the worst of the get-away and it looked as if she would be left in the stretch. It was a half-mile track. Twice around completed the heats. The crowd laughed themselves hoarse at Uncle Joe's entry and rider.
"Git Up, Fan!"
The other riders leaning forward, holding their bridle reins close down to the bit, seemed to lift their horses as they sped away from Black Fan whose rider was leaning back holding the briddle reins at arm's length as if he feared she would go by the head.
There was no grandstand, the populace standing thick along the track, separated from it by a rough board fence.
As the horses neared the starting point on the first turn, Black Fan far in the rear, Uncle Joe was seen pushing through the crowd, towering above the multitude. He made his way to the side of the track, climbing up on the fence-board next to the top, he stood erect.
The leaders flew by and, as Black Fan got opposite, he raised his arms as if to throw a stone or club at her, at the same time, in stentorian tones, yelling: "Git up! Git up! Git! Git out of that, you Black B—— h! Git up Fan. Gin her her head! Don't hold her, dam her! Let her go! Scat!"
