“You reckin I could git a hoss whut’ll beat Pap’s Doodlebug?” Shin asked eagerly.
“Suttinly,” Skeeter assured him. “Doodlebug ain’t such a much hoss. Of co’se, he kin beat dese here old plow-hosses whut runs agin him. I knows de hoss whut kin beat him right now.”
Shin pulled his roll of money out of his pocket and passed it back.
“Buy me dat hoss, Skeeter,” he said earnestly. “I don’t want nothin’ as bad as I want to git Pap Curtain’s goat!”
V
NIGGER BLACKIE.
Shin Bone tended bar for Skeeter Butts until eleven o’clock that night, then Skeeter returned to the Hen-Scratch saloon, covered with swamp mud and leading a slim black horse.
“Dis is yo’ winner, Shin,” he said in weary tones, as he placed the lead-rope into the hands of the pop-eyed owner. “I got him for fifty dollars cash down, an’ he’s shore a dandy.”
“He looks pretty peart,” Shin grinned. “Kin he run?”
“Yep,” Skeeter said in a disgusted tone. “He kin run like a log raff floatin’ up de Massassap’ River. But us ain’t winnin’ on his speed—us is bettin’ on his looks.”
“I don’t ketch on ’bout dis,” Shin said stupidly. “Dis sounds to me like you done waste my money.”