"It's a wonder I ain't run over gettin' to the depot. I don't know where I'm at. I just keeps sayin' 'sixteen thousand—sixteen thousand—' over 'n' over to myself. I beats it out to the hospital when I gets back, to tell Micky. They're goin' to let him out in a day or so 'n' Micky's settin' up in a chair with wheels to it.
"'Give a guess what Hamilton brings in the Big Eastern,' I says to him.
"'I dunno,' says he. 'How much?'
"'Sixteen thousand bucks!' I says. 'How does that lay on your stummick?'
"'Hell!' says Micky. 'That ain't nothin'—look-a-here!'
"He shoves a paper at me he's been holdin' in his mitt. It's a ridin' contract fur two years with the Ogden stable at ten thousand a year.
"So you see, just like I tells you," Blister wound up, "they lay down real money fur class."
"The man who bought the horse," I said, "certainly got what he paid for—everybody knows now that Hamilton has class. But how about the boy?"
"Did you ever see Vincent ride?" Blister looked at me inquiringly.
"I saw him ride once in the English Derby," I replied. "Why?"