"When Duckfoot comes he busts through the crowd like he's the paddock judge.
"'Lemme look at dis hoss,' he says.
"Everybody draws back 'n' Duckfoot looks the hoss over 'n' then runs his hand under his barrel close to the front legs.
"'No, sah, dis ain' Frien'less,' he says. 'Frien'less has a white foot on de off front laig and besides dat he has a rough-feeling scab on de belly whar he done rip hisself somehow befo' I gits him. Dis dawg am smooth as a possum.'
"That settles all arguments. You can't fool a swipe 'bout a hoss he's taken care of. He knows every hair on him.
"One day I'm clockin' this Alcyfras while a exercise-boy sends him seven-eights. When I looks at my clock I thinks they ought to lay a thousand-to-one against the mutt, after he starts a couple of times. Just then somethin' comes 'n' stands in front of me 'n' begins to make little squeaky noises.
"'Are you Mr. Blister?' it says.
"I bats my eyes 'n' nods.
"'I've got 'em again,' I thinks.
"'Oh, what a relief!' it squeaks. 'I just thought I'd never find you. I've been looking all over the race course for you!'