Fairly stunned, Shin sat down and waited for the end. After what seemed to him an age or two, Doodlebug came under the wire, and a yellow, freckled-faced negro boy with an inadequate knowledge of spelling climbed a short ladder and inscribed upon a blackboard the names of the three horses in the order of their places in the race:
DUDDLEBUG
TRAYLOR
SKIPER
There was a little scattering applause, but the crowd could get up no enthusiasm for such an exhibition, and few had bet upon a race in which the tricky Pap Curtain had entered two horses.
Whiffle Boone turned and glared at Shin, who sat dazed and crumpled on the bench.
“Wus dat de news you wus gwine bust to me as a surprise, Shin?” she demanded sarcastically.
“Good-bye, honey,” Shin said gloomily, as he rose to his feet and staggered toward the exit. “I ain’t in no mind to argufy about surprises now. I done got one myse’f.”
“Whut ’bout dat supper we wus gwine hab?” Whiffle asked.
“Honey, I couldn’t buy a sandsquich wid a bad dime,” Shin told her tearfully. “I ain’t got nothin’ dat even looks like money.”
IV
THE LAME SORREL.
Shin hunted all over the fair grounds for Skeeter Butts without being able to find him.