CHAPTER III
Goosey Gander
Boy Woodburn came leading the winner through the cheering crowd.
It was Old Mat's horse, Old Mat's race; and they had all got a bit on. They were pleased with themselves, pleased with the horse, pleased with the jockey, who, perched up aloft on the great sweating bay, his hands still mechanically at work, his little dark face shining, chaffed his chaffers in the voice of a Punchinello.
"Get off him, Monkey," called a joker; "get off quick afore he falls to pieces. Do!"
"Same as you do when I get talkin' to ye!" retorted the little jockey.
There was a roar of laughter at the expense of the joker, who turned suddenly nasty.
"Who said Chukkers?" he cried.
There was an instant of silence, and then some groans.