"I throws a scraper at him, 'n' he goes on down the line singin', Onward, Christian Soldiers.
"Ole man Sanford orders a set of silks. He's got to send away fur the kind he wants 'n' he won't let me start his hoss till they come. Nobody but big stables pays attention to colors, so I tries to talk him out of the notion,—nothin' doin'!
"'Ma colors were known and respected in days gone by, suh,' he says. 'Ah owe it to the public who reposed confidence in the puhple and white, to fly ma old flag when Ah once moh take the field. Yes, suh.'
"'Purple 'n' white!' I says. 'Them's the colors of the McVay stable!'
"'Ah was breeding stake hawsses, suh,' says ole man Sanford, 'when his mothah's milk was not yet dry upon the lips of young McVay.'
"When the silks come, I picks out a real soft spot for Trampfast. It's a six furlong ramble fur has-beens 'n' there's sure a bunch of kioodles in it! Most of 'em ought to be on crutches. My hoss has showed me the distance in fourteen, 'n' that's about where this gang'll stagger home. With the hop in him the Trampfast hoss'll give me two seconds better. He ought to be a swell bet. But the hop puts all the heart in him there is—he ain't got one of his own. If he runs empty he'll lay down sure. I can't hop him, so I won't bet on him with counterfeit money.
"The mawnin' of the race ole man Sanford's at the stalls bright 'n' early. He's chipper as a canary. He watches Chick hand-rub the hoss fur a while 'n' then he pulls out a roll 'n' eases Chick two bucks. I pipes off the roll. The ole man sees me lookin' at it.
"'Ah intend to wageh moderately today,' he says. 'And Ah have brought a small sum with me foh the puhpose.'
"'What you goin' to bet on?' I says.
"'Ma own hawss, of co'se, suh,' he says. 'It is ma custom to back only ma own hawsses or those of ma friends.'