"The ole man's a good judge of pace,—Trampfast comes home bang in the fourteen notch.
"When Pete gets down at the stalls, ole man Sanford walks up to him.
"'Hyah is a dollah foh you, boy,' he says, 'n' hands Pete a buck. 'That was a well-rated trial.'
"Pete looks at the silver buck 'n' then at ole man Sanford 'n' then at me.
"'What the hell—' he says.
"'You rough neck!' I says to Pete. Don't you know how to act when a gentleman slips you somethin'?'
"'But look a-here,' says Pete. 'He ain't got—' I gives Pete a poke in the slats. 'Much obliged, sir,' he says, 'n' puts the bone in his pocket.
"'You are entirely welcome, mah boy,' says ole man Sanford, wavin' his hand.
"'Say,' Pete says to me, 'I think this hoss'll cop without shot in the arm. He's awful good!'
"'Not fur mine,' I says. 'He can run fur Sweeney when he ain't got no hop in him. Just let some sassy hoss look him in the eye fur two jumps 'n' he'll holler, "Please, mister, don't!" Yea, bo',' I says, 'I know this pup too well. When he's carryin' my kale he'll be shoutin' hallelooyah with a big joy pill under his belt.'