"Frank," said the old man, "I wish you wouldn't be so blame keerless with your figures of speech. There won't be any ice water for the wicked, it says in the Book, and, anyway, it ain't a fit subject to joke about. It don't sound pretty."
The Bald-faced Kid took this reproof with a sober countenance, for he respected the old man's principles even if he did not understand them.
"All right, old-timer. I'll take your word for it. Got a steady job, has he? For Heaven's sake, what doing?"
"Running a racing stable for a man named Hopwood."
"Running a stable! What does Calamity know about training horses?"
"A heap more than Hopwood, I reckon, and, anyway, he'll only have one hoss to experiment on. Hopwood was over here this morning, visiting around and getting acquainted, he said. Awful gabby old coot. He's got a grocery store up in Butte, and used to go out to the race track once in a while. Some of those burglars got hold of him and sold him something with four legs and a tail. They told him it was a sure enough race hoss, and now he's down here to make his fortune. Gillis saw him first, I reckon. Hopwood has hired him by the month—and a percentage of what he wins."
At this the Bald-faced Kid laughed long and loud.
"There's one of 'em born every minute," said he, "but I didn't think the supply was big enough to reach as far as Calamity. Didn't you tell this poor nut what he was up against, trying to horn his way into the Jungle Circuit with one lonely lizard and a human jinx to handle him?"
"No-o," said Old Man Curry, "I didn't. What would be the use! You know what Solomon says about that sort of thing, don't you?"
"I do not," answered the Kid promptly, "but I'll be the goat as usual. What does he say?"