Colonel Troup smiled and walked off. In a short while he sauntered carelessly back:
“Fo' sah, she was fo' years old this last spring.”
“Thank ye, Col'nel!”
The Colonel smiled and whispered: “Oh, how cooked she is! Dead on her feet, dead. Don't drive yo' ole pacer hard—jes' walk around him, sah. Do as you please, you've earned the privilege. It's yo' walk over an' yo' money.”
The fifth heat was almost a repetition of the fourth, the old pacer beating the tired mare cruelly, pacing her to a standstill. It was all over with Lizzette, anyone could see that. The judges hung out:
5th Heat: Ben Butler, 1st; Lizzette, 2nd. Time, 2:24.
Travis's face was set, set in pain and disappointment when he went to the stable. He looked away off, he saw no one. He smoked. He walked over to the stall where they were cooling Lizzette out.
“Take the full twenty minutes to cool her, Jim.”
In the next stall stood Sadie B. She had been driven around by Jud Carpenter, between heats, to exercise her, he had said. She was warmed up, and ready for speed.
Travis stood watching Lizzette cool out. Jud came up and stood looking searchingly at him. There was but a glance and a nod, and Travis walked over to the grand-stand, light-hearted and even jolly, where he stood in a group of society folks.