When they does, Mr. Van says to
me:
"'Lead Rainbow to the Livingston stables, Blister. He has a new owner.'
"'Does you get a good price fur him?' I says, like I don't tumble to
nothin'.
"'What a remarkable groom!' says Miss Livingston.
"'Isn't he?' says Mr. Van. Then he comes 'n' grabs me by the mitt.
'Don't worry about the price, old boy,' he says. 'No horse ever brought
so much before!'"
SALVATION
At the invitation of Blister Jones I had come from the city's heat to
witness the morning "work-outs". For two hours horse after horse had
shot by, leaving a golden dust-cloud to hang and drift and slowly
settle.
It was fairly cool under the big tree by the track fence, and the click
of Blister's stop-watch, with his varied comments on what those clicks
recorded, drifted out of my consciousness much as had the dust-clouds.
Even the thr-rump, thr-rump, thr-rump of flying hoofs--crescendo,
fortissimo, diminuendo--finally became meaningless.
"Here's one bred to suit you!" rasped a nasal voice, and I sat up, half
awake, to observe a tall man lead a thorough-bred on to the track and
dexterously "throw" a boy into the tiny saddle.
"Why?" Blister questioned.
"He's by Salvation," explained the tall man. "Likely-lookin' colt,
ain't he? Think he favors the old hoss any?"
"'Bout the head he does," Blister answered. "He won't girt as big as
the old hoss did at the same age."
"Well, if he's half as good as his daddy he's some hoss at that," the
tall man stated, as he started up the track, watch in hand.
Pages:
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66