"'It's that Davis cripple, ain't it?' he asks.
"'That's him,' I says.
"He studies a minute, lookin' steady at me.
"'I'm your huckleberry,' he says at last. 'When do you want me?'
"'Just as she gets light to-morrow mawnin',' I says quick, fur I hasn't believed he'd come through, 'n' I wants to stick the gaff into him 'fore he changes his mind.
"He give a sigh. I knowed he was no early riser.
"'All right,' he says. 'Where'll you be?'
"'At the half-mile post,' I says. 'I'll have him warmed up fur you.'
"'All right,' he says again—'n' that night I don't sleep none.
"When it begins to get a little gray next mawnin' I takes the bird out 'n' gallops him a slow mile with a stiff breezer at the end. But durin' the night I gives up thinkin' Joe'll be there, 'n' I nearly falls off when I comes past the half-mile post, 'n' he's standin' by the fence in a classy overcoat 'n' kid gloves.