His swipe runs out 'n' grabs the bird 'n' leads him in a-limpin'.
"Say! That bird's right-front tendon is bowed like a barrel stave!
"This Cal Davis is a big owner. He's got all kinds of kale--'n' he
don't fool with dinks. He gives one look at the bowed tendon.
"'Anybody that'll lead this hoss off the track, gets him 'n' a month's
feed,' he says.
"Before you could spit I has that bird by the head. His swipe ain't
goin' to let go of him, but Cal says: 'Turn him loose, boy!' 'N' I'm
on my way with the bird.
"That's the first one I ever owns. Jameson loans me a stall fur him.
That night a ginnie comes over from Cal's barn with two bags of oats in
a wheelbarrow.
"A newspaper guy finds out about the deal, 'n' writes it up so
everybody is hep to me playin' owner. One day I see the starter point
me out to Colonel King, who's the main squeeze in the judge's stand,
'n' they both laugh.
"I've got all winter before we has to ship, 'n' believe me I sweat some
over this bird. I done everythin' to that tendon, except make a new
one. In a month I has it in such shape he don't limp, 'n' I begins to
stick mile gallops 'n' short breezers into him. He has to wear a stiff
bandage on the dinky leg, 'n' I puts one on the left-fore, too--it
looks better.
"It ain't so long till I has this bird cherry ripe. He'll take a-holt
awful strong right at the end of a stiff mile. One day I turns him
loose, fur three-eighths, 'n' he runs it so fast he makes me dizzy.
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