"I does a dance a-bowin' to the bird, 'n' Joe stands there laughin' at me, squeezin' the blood back into his mitts.
"We leads the hoss to the gate, 'n' there's a booky's clocker named Izzy Goldberg.
"'You an exercise-boy now?' he asks Joe.
"'Not yet,' says Joe. 'Mu cousin here owns this trick, 'n' I'm givin' him a work.'
"'Up kind-a early, ain't you? Say! He's good, ain't he, Joe?' says Izzy; 'n' looks at the bird close.
"'Naw, he's a mutt,' says Joe.
"'What's he doin' with his mouth open at the end of that mile?' Izzy says, 'n' laughs.
"'He only runs it in fifty,' says Joe, careless. 'I takes hold of him 'cause he's bad in front, 'n' he's likely to do a flop when he gets tired. So long, Bud!' Joe says to me, 'n' I takes the bird to the barn.
"I'm not thinkin' Izzy ain't wise. It's a cinch Joe don't stall him. Every booky would hear about that work-out by noon. Sure enough the Item's pink sheet has this among the tips the next day:
"'Count Noble'—that was the bird's name—'a mile in forty-four. Pulled to a walk at the end. Bet the works on him; his first time out, boys!'