“I don’t reckon the names o’ the ole time sportin’ gentlemen, an’ old time jockeys, an’ old time stock, would count much with a gentleman from foreign lan’s,” said the old man, with a deprecating bow to Delaven. “But my Mahs Duke Loring nevah had less than six horses in trainen’ at once. I was stable-boy, an’ jes’ trained up with the colts till Mahs Duke saw I could ride. I sartainly had luck with racin’ stock, seein’ which he gave me clean charge o’ the whole racin’ stable; ’sides which, keepen’ my weight down to eighty pounds let me in for the jockey work––them was days. I was sent ovah into Kaintucky, an’ up Nawth far as Long Island, to ride races fo’ otha gentlemen––friends o’ Mahs Duke’s, an’ every big race I run put nigh onto a hundred dollar plump into my own pocket. Money?––my king! I couldn’t see cleah how I evah could spend all the money I got them days, cause I didn’t have to spend a cent fo’ clothes or feed, an’ I had mo’ presents give to me by the quality folks what I trained horses fer than I could count or reck’lect.
“The ride Miss Lena done tole yo’ of––that happen the yeah Mahs Duke imported Lawd Chester, half brother to Bonnie Bell, that won the sweepstakes at Petersburg, an’ sire o’ Glenalven out o’ Lady Clare, who was owned by Mahs Hampton ovah in Kaintucky. Well, sah, the yeah he imported Chester was the yeah he an’ Mr. Enos Jackson had the set-to ’bout their two-yeah-olds––leastwise the colts seemed to be the cause; but I don’t mind tellen’, now, that I nevah did take stock in that notion, my own self. Women folks get mixed up even in race fights an’ I mind one o’ the han’some high steppers o’ Philadelphia way down theah that time, an’ Mistah Jackson he got a notion his chances 148 mighty good, till long come Mahs Duke an’ glance out corner of his eye, make some fine speeches, an’––farwell, Mistah Jackson! Mistah Jackson wa’nt jes’ what you’d call the highest quality, though he did own powerful stretches o’ lan’––three plantations in Nawth Calliny, ’sides lots o’ other property. He had a colt called Darker he ’lowed nothen’ could keep in sight of, an’ he was good stuff––that colt. Mistah Jackson would a had easy riden’ fo’ the stakes if me an’ Mahs Duke hadn’t fetch Betty Pride up to show ’em what we could do. Well, the upshot of it was that part on account o’ that Nawthen flirtatious young pusson what liked Mahs Duke the best, an’ part on account o’ Betty Pride, Mistah Jackson act mighty mischievous-like, an’ twenty minutes afo’ time was called I ’scovered that boy, Jim Peters, what was to ride Betty Pride, had been drugged––jest a trifle, not enough to leave him stupid––but too much to leave him ride, bright as he need be that day. He said Mistah Jackson’s stable boss had give him a swallow o’ apple jack, an’ king heaven!––but Mahs Duke turn white mad when I tole him. He say to Jim’s brother Mose––Mose was his body servant––‘Moses, fetch me my pistols,’ jest quiet like that; ‘Moses, fetch me my pistols.’ Whew!––but I was scared, an’ I says, ‘No, sah,’ I says, ‘Mahs Duke, fo’ heaven’s sake, don’t stop the race, an’ I’ll win it fo’ you yet. Mistah Jackson betten nigh bout all he own on Darker; get yo’ frien’s to take all bets fo’ you, an’ egg him on. Betty Pride ain’t been tampered with!––take my word fo’ it, she’ll win even with my extra weight––now, Mahs Duke, fo’ God’s sake,’ says I, ‘go out theah an’ fool them rascals; don’t let on you know ’bout their trick; take all theah bets, an’ trust me. I trained that colt, an’ we’ll win, Mahs Duke––if we don’t––well, sah, you can jest use them pistols on me.’ I mos’ got down on my 149 knees a’ beggen’ him, an’ his blue eyes, like steel, measuren’ me an’ weighen’ my words, then he said: ‘I’ll risk it, Nelse, but––heaven help yo’ if yo’ fail me!’
“I knew good enough I’d need some powerful help if I come in second, fo’ he had a monstrous temper, but kindest man you evah met when things went his way. Well, jest as I was jumpen’ into my clothes, an’ Mahs Duke had started to the ring, I called out, half joken: ‘Oh, Mahs Duke, I’m a dead niggah if I come in second, but what yo’ gwine to give me if I come in first?’
“He turned at that an’ said, sharp an’ quick an’ decided––‘Yo’ freedom, Nelse.’ My king!––that made me shaky, I could scarce get into my clothes. I knew he been offered big money fo’ me, many’s the time, an’ now I was gwine to get it all my own self.
“Mahs Duke done jes’ like I begged him––kep’ steady an’ cool an’ take up all Mistah Jackson’s bets, and he was jest betten wild till he saw who was on Betty Pride, an’ I heah tell he come a nigh fainten’ when he got sight o’ me; but Mahs Duke’s look at ’im must a jes’ propped him up an’ sort o’ fo’ced him to brave it out till we come aroun’. It was a sweepstakes an’ repeat, an’ Betty Pride come in eighteen inches ahead, an’ that Nawthen lady what conjure Mistah Jackson so, she fastened roses in Betty Pride’s bridle, an’ gave me a whole bouquet––with one eye on Mahs Duke all the time, of course, but Lordy!––he wan’t thinken’ much about ladies jes’ that minute. He won ovah thousand dollars in money, ’sides two plantations off Mistah Jackson, who nevah dared enter the jockey club aftah that day. An’ Mahs Duke was good as his word ’bout the freedom––he give it to me right theah; that’s my Mahs Duke.”
“And a fine sort of a man he was, then,” commented Delaven, looking more closely at the strong, fine pictured face, 150 and the bushy, leonine shock of tawny hair and the eyes that smiled down with a twinkle of humor in their blue depths. There was a slight likeness to Matthew Loring in the heavy brows and square chin, but the smile of the father was genial––that of the son, sardonic.
“Yes, sah,” agreed Nelse, when comment was made upon the likeness, “Mahs Matt favor him a mite, but none to speak of. Mahs Tom more like him in natur’. Mahs Matt he done take mo’ likeness to his gran’ma’s folks, who was French, from L’weesiana. A mighty sharp eye she got, an’ all my Mahs Duke’s niggahs walk straight, I tell yo’, when she come a visiten’ to we all. I heard tell how her mother was some sort o’ great lady from French court, packed off to L’weesiana ’cause o’ some politics like they have ovah theah; an’ in her own country she was a princess or some high mightiness, an’ most o’ her family was killed in some rebeloution––woman, too! All saved her was getten to Orleans, an’ her daughter, she married ole Matthew Loring, the daddy o’ them all, so far back as I know.”
The old man had warmed to his task, as floods of reminiscences came sweeping through his memory. He grew more important, and let fall the borrowed cloak of servility; his head was perched a little higher and a trifle askew as he surveyed them. The reflected grandeur of past days was on him, and in comparison modernity seemed common-place. All these brilliant, dashing, elegant men and women of his youth were gone. He was the only human echo left of their greatness, and his diminutive person grew more erect as he realized his importance as a landmark of the past.
“There!” said Evilena, triumphantly, “isn’t that as interesting as your Irish romances? Where would you find a landlord of England or Ireland who would make a free gift of three thousand dollars to a servant? They simply could 151 not conceive of such generosity unless it were the gift of a king or a prince, and then it would be put down in their histories for all men to remember.”
“True for you,” assented Delaven, with the brogue he was fond of using at times when with those elected to comradeship; “true for you, my lady, but you folks who are kings and queens in your own right should be a bit easy on the unfortunates who can be only subjects.”