"We sets there 'n' talks over the proposition most all night. Butsy says it's a cinch 'n' it ain't long till me 'n' Peewee figgers he's got it doped right.
"'Let's go against it, Blister,' Peewee says to me. 'What do you say, old pal?'
"'I'm there with bells on,' I says, 'n' that settles it. I ships my colts to Judge Dillon, 'n' the next week we start.
"These punkin races is all half-mile dashes, best two out of three. Peewee's geldin' is a distance hoss—he don't get goin' good under a mile. In a bull-ring sprint he ain't got a chance with this black stud of Butsy's.
"Our game is to have Butsy turn his dash-hound loose the first heat. Then I ambulates out among the rubes 'n' acts like I'm willing to bet on the bay geldin'. If I finds a live one, Butsy takes his hoss up in his lap the last two trips 'n' Peewee comes on 'n' grabs the gravy.
"We figger the rubes'll eat it up after seein' that nice-lookin' black stud romp away with the first heat. But right there the dope falls down—the rubes ain't as dead as they look.
"In the first town we strike I eases up to a tall Jasper after the black hoss has grabbed the opener on the bit.
"'Say, pardner,' I says, 'do you ever bet a piece of money on a race?'
"This Jasper is just a Adam's apple surrounded by arms 'n' legs.
"'Well, I should say as much,' he says. 'But most ginrally they wan't nobody bet with me. Up in Liberty Township the boys call me Lucky Andy.'