"He takes off his overcoat, 'n' comes up when I gets down,'n' gives a look at the saddle.
"'I can't ride nothin' on that thing,' he says. 'Slip over to the jocks' room 'n' get mine. It's on number three peg—here's the key.'
"It's gettin' light fast 'n' I'm afraid of the clockers.
"'The sharp-shooters'll be out in a minute,' I says.
"'I can't help it,' says Joe. 'I wouldn't ride a bull on that saddle!'
"I see there's no use to argue, so I beats it across the center-field, cops the saddle 'n' comes back. I run all the way, but it's gettin' awful light.
"'Send him a mile in forty-five 'n' see what he's got left,' I says, as I throws Joe up.
"'Right in the notch—if he's got the step,' he says.
"I click Jameson's clock on them, as they went away—Joe whisperin' in the bird's ear. The back-stretch was the stretch, startin' from the half. I seen the bird's mouth wide open as they come home, 'n' Joe has double wraps on him. 'He won't beat fifty under that pull!' I says to myself. But when I stops the clock at the finish it was at forty-four-'n'-three-quarters. Joe ain't got a clock to go by neither—that's judgin' pace!—take it from me!
"'He's diseased with speed,' says Joe, when he gets down. 'He can do thirty-eight sure—just look at my hands!'