"'Get him what he wants,' I says to Snowball.
"We leads the colt on to the track, when the bits is changed, 'n' just as I throws Micky up I see he's got a bat.
"'What you goin' to do with that?' I says. 'You need a parachute, not a whip!'
"'I always ride 'em with a bat. Turn him loose,' says Micky.
"Well, it's the same thing over again, the colt runs off. All Micky does is to keep him in the track. I see he ain't pullin' a pound. They've gone about six mile 'n' Hamilton begins to slow a little. Just then Micky lights into him with the bat.
"'Look at dat!' says Snowball. 'He's los' his min'.'
"'No, he ain't!' I says. 'He's there forty ways!' I've just begun to tumble the kid's wise as owls. 'Oh, you Micky!' I hollers. 'Go to it, you white boy!'
"I hate to tell you how far that kid works the hoss. He keeps handin' him the bat every other jump. It gets so I can run as fast as they're movin' 'n' Hamilton's just prayin' fur help. I'm afraid he'll jim the colt fur good, so I yells at Micky to cut it out, when he comes by.
"'Come down off of that, you squirt!' I says. 'Do you want to kill the colt?'
"'Aw, you go to hell!' he says, 'n' 'round they go again. When Hamilton ain't got more'n a good stagger left, Micky rides him through the gate to the stall.