Old Man Curry combed his whiskers for some time in silence.
"Solomon had a job like this once," said he, "but it was a question of babies. I reckon his decision wouldn't work out with hosses. Gabe, you're gittin' to be quite an old man, ain't you?"
"Tollable ole," replied the negro; "yes, suh."
"An' if you got this hoss away from Pitkin, what would you do with him?"
"Sell him," was the prompt reply.
"Oho! Then it ain't the hoss you want so much as the money, eh?"
"Mist' Curry, that colt'd fetch enough to sen' me home right. I got two sons in Baltimo', an' they been wantin' me to quit the racin' business, but I couldn't quit it broke. No, suh, I couldn't, so I jus' been hangin' on tooth an' toenail like the sayin' is, hopin' I'd git a stake somehow."
"And you don't much care how you quit, so long's you quit; is that it?"
"Well, suh, I don't want no trouble if I kin he'p it, but if I has to fight my way loose from Pitkin I'll do it."
There was another long silence while Gabe waited.