"'Whose bale of hay do you think this is?' I says. 'You tryin' to hog it like you does game?'
"'Gimme my lantern 'n' I'll be on my way,' says Peewee.
"'I puts the oil in that lantern,' I says, ''n' she sets right where she is till she makes her last flicker.'
"'Cut it! Cut it!' says Butsy, spreadin' out his hoss paper. 'Act like you has some sense, 'n' I puts you hep to a hot scheme I gets out of this paper—us three can pull it off to a finish!'
"'I don't want in on no scheme with that lantern snatcher!' says Peewee then to me.
"'If you don't age some,' I says to Peewee, 'nursie'll come around here, 'n' put a nice fresh panty-waist on you!'
"Then Butsy goes ahead 'n' tells us the frame-up. He shows us an ad in his paper askin' fur entries to race over the Ohio Short Ship Circuit. This circuit is a bunch of race meets that's held on the bull rings at county fairs up through the state. They're trottin' races mostly, but they give one runnin' race at a different town each week.
"'Now,' says Butsy, 'I'm born 'n' raised in Mount Clinton, Ohio. I sees the race meet there frequent 'n' she's a peach. You can have a hoss lay down 'n' go to sleep on the track if you don't want him to win 'n' then tell the judges he's got spring fever. Everything goes except murder. We'll take that black stud of mine 'n' Peewee's bay geldin' 'n' hit this punkin circuit. We can win a purse each week fur travelin' expenses, 'n' what we cops on the side is velvet.'
"'What do you want me fur?' I says.
"'Why,' says Butsy, 'at these county fairs there ain't no bookies. They just bets from hand to hand. While me 'n' Peewee rides, you sashay out among the rubes 'n' get the coin down on whichever hoss we frames to win.'