The race day came and found Abe gloriously drunk. ’Twas not a common thing, but it seemed to always happen when there was important business on hand.
“I ain’t got much money,” said Abe, “but, by gol, I’ll bet that lower eighty of mine agin a thousand dollars—never did like that farm—lost the best cow I ever owned in that pesky swamp.”
Abe had plenty of friends, and they gathered round trying every way to prevent his losing that farm. They knew him for a man that never whimpered when he lost his money, and Bob Langdon was a “sharper.”
“Skin ye, sure, Abe,” they said. But Abe turned a deaf ear to their entreaties.
“I’m runnin’ my own business. ’G’lang’ away and let me be.” And the money was soon up, and the farm, too, and they repaired to the fair grounds for the race. When they arrived they found that very “accommodating fellow” getting Hoosier Boy ready for the race. A good-sized chunk of lead adorned the toes of his front feet, but as Bob and his friends never noticed it, and even if they had would never have minded it, since the greatest of pacers often wear toe-weights, they only nudged each other and prepared to soak it to poor Abe the harder.
As usual, Abe was drunk—or appeared so—and, much to the disgust of his friends, staggered around trying to get up more bets on Hoosier Boy. Then his friends begged, expostulated. They even threatened to take him home forcefully and declare the race off because one of the parties was too drunk to have justice done him. But Abe dodged them and claimed police protection from the crowd who were backing Gray Dan and preparing to rob him on a dead certainty.
Finally, they sent for Abe’s wife to come and save her husband’s “lower eighty.” But the good lady only told them to attend to their own business, and that Abe never was as drunk as he seemed, and while they were gone Abe managed to borrow a thousand more by giving a bill of sale, if he lost, on Hoosier Boy and twenty head of steers he had! Then, to their disgust, he did more—he put up his homestead against another thousand on the ground that he wanted to lose it, because his mother-in-law always stayed there. As this was all in the world he had—the eighty acres, the steers and the horse, and the homestead—and the Gray Dan crowd could find no one else who would put up at any odds, they called for the race and sat down to enjoy the fun.
The horses came out and scored for the race, and still the Gray Dan crowd suspected nothing. It was dead easy. Hadn’t they seen Hoosier Boy do his best, and paced in 2:24, and couldn’t Gray Dan pace in 2:16 or better?
“Po’r Abe,” said all of Abe’s friends, as they got behind fences and posts to keep from seeing the robbery.
On the second score they got away—at least, Hoosier Boy did—so far away from Gray Dan that he was at the half before the Gray Dan crowd saw that he was not pacing at all, but trotting to beat the band.