"'I don't mind them kind of tears,' I says.
"'Neither do I,' she says, laughin', 'n' dabbin' at her face with a dinky little hankerchiff.
"I wait till they lead the colt out in front of the stand, 'n' put the floral horseshoe round his neck, then I takes Miss Goodloe down to shake hands with the jock.
"'How do you like him?' she says to the jock.
"'Well, ma'am,' he says, 'I've ridden all the good ones, but he's the best hoss I ever has under me!'
"'What's the record fur this race?' I yells across the track to the timer. He points down at the time hung up.
"'That's it!' he hollers back.
"'Didn't he do it easy?' says the jock to me.
"There's no use to tell you what Salvation done to them Eastern hosses; everybody knows about that. It got so the ginnies would line up in a bunch, every time he starts, 'n' holler: 'They're off—there he goes!' They does it regular, 'n' pretty soon the crowds get next 'n' then everybody does it. He begins to stale off at Pimlico, so I ships him to Miss Goodloe, 'n' writes her to turn him out fur three or four months.
"It ain't a year from the time we leaves Miss Goodloe standin' in the road till then. Salvation wins his every start. He's copped off forty thousand bucks. I guess that's goin' some!