"Things have been breaking awful tough for me around here," he went on. "Awful tough. You don't know. And then this Hopwood came along. It ain't my fault if the sucker thinks he's got another Roseben, is it? He wanted a trainer and a jockey, and somebody else would have picked him up if I hadn't. It's the first piece of luck I've had this year. All I want is a chance to string with this fellow as long as he lasts and get a piece of change for myself. That ain't hurting you any, is it? He's my only chance to eat regular; don't go scaring him away."
The Kid was about to reply when a short, fat gentleman waddled around the corner of the barn and paused, wheezing, at the door of the stall. A new owners' badge dangled prominently from his buttonhole, and this he fingered from time to time with manifest pride. He peered in at Last Chance and beamed upon the Bald-faced Kid with the utmost friendliness, his thick eyeglasses giving him the appearance of a jovial owl.
"Well," said he heartily, "I see you're looking him over, young man. He's mine; I just bought him, and I think I got him cheap. Pretty fine-looking horse, eh?"
The Kid nodded gravely.
"You bet your life!" said he with emphasis. "Take it from me, he is some horse!"
"Some horse is right!" chimed in Little Calamity fervently. "Just wait till I get him in shape, boss, and I'll show you how much horse he is!"
"And that," said the Bald-faced Kid, "is no idle statement."
"Frank," said Old Man Curry, "you're making more of a fool of that Hopwood than the Lord intended him to be, and it's a sin and a shame. Why can't you let him alone?"
"Because he hands me many a laugh," said the Bald-faced Kid, "and laughs are good for what ails me. He is a three-ring circus and concert all by himself, but he doesn't know it, and that's what makes him so good. And innocent? Say, the original Babes in the Wood haven't got a thing on him. If he stays around here these sharpshooters will have his shirt."
"And you're helping them to get it with your lies. First thing you know you'll have him betting on that hoss when he starts, and Last Chance never won a race in his life and never will. He can quit so fast that it looks like he's going the wrong way of the track. Hopwood was around here to-day all swelled up with the stories you've been feeding him. It ain't right, my son, and, what's more, it ain't honest. You might just as well pick his pockets and give the money to the bookmakers."