Butts walked away, but before he placed a single bet he trailed Pap Curtain until he found him, placed a half-dollar in Pap’s willing palm, and demanded the name of the winner.
Again Pap cupped his hands around Skeeter’s ears and whispered:
“Doodle-Bug!”
Skeeter took a big breath. Then he got busy. First he found his friend, Figger Bush.
“Figger,” he panted, “loant me ten dollars. Ef I never pays it back yo’ credick is good at de Hen-Scratch till you drinks dat much liquor up.”
Figger counted out the money, and Skeeter raced around until he had borrowed a similar sum from Hitch Diamond, Prince Total, an Mustard Prophet, thus increasing his supply of money until he had fifty-five dollars. Then he raced around some more, betting every dollar on Doodle-Bug.
Walking back to the grand stand, he found Pap Curtain engaged in a lively conversation with Sugar Sibley. Jealousy boiled in Skeeter’s heart and his saddle-colored face flushed to a brownish crimson. He strode to where they were sitting and began:
“Looky here, Pap, you let my nigger gal alone. I don’t want no ole gray-wool baboon monkeyin’ aroun’ whar I cotes a lady. You hike outen dis!”
“Set down, son, and watch de race!” Pap responded in a patronizing tone. “A nigger hadn’t oughter git uppity when he bets his las’ dollar on Doodle-Bug. Doodle might run in de groun’.”
At that moment Doodle galloped onto the track, and Skeeter postponed his quarrel to watch the horse which carried his money.