“I—I’ve saved my salary,” says Hank. “I’ll enter the horse.”
“But we can’t afford to hire a jockey.”
“I’ll ride him,” says Hank, hammerin’ himself on the chest. “I’ll wear the glue and bold of the Witherspoon stables. I—I mean the bold and glue.”
“Oh, you hero!” explodes Susie. “I knew you’d be loyal.”
Old Zibe has come around where we are, and now he hammers on a loose board with the butt of his whip. From the other side comes Peewee Parker, all dressed up in a funny lookin’ blue suit.
“Someone at the door, Jason,” says Miss Wimple. Peewee goggles around, and Zibe motions him over to us. When he’s out of sight of the audience, Zibe grabs me by the wrist, and the next thing I know I’m out there in the middle of the stage, with Zibe bangin’ onto me. He takes off his hat, bows to the ladies and then takes a look at Hank.
“So yo’re the jockey who is goin’ to ride Thunderbolt, eh?” says Zibe. “Well, go on back to the stable—I want to talk with highgrade folks.”
Hank hops his arms like he was sad all over, but goes out. Zeke grins at Susie and Miss Wimple.
“I’m Simon Legree,” says he, “and I want to sell yuh a nigger.”
Susie takes one look at me, jumps up and throws up both hands.