. . you don't even
notice your own mammy!'
"'His head ain't turned, it's full of race,' I says to her. He'll come
down to earth after he gets that mile-'n'-a-quarter under his belt.'
"When the bugle blows, Miss Goodloe asks me to stay in her box with her
while the derby's run. There's twenty thousand people there 'n' I
guess the whole bunch has bet on the colt, from the way it sounds when
the hosses parade past. You can't hear nothin' but '_Salva-a-tion!
Oh, you Salva-a-tion_!'
"They get a nice break all in a line, but when they come by the stand
the first time, the colt's layin' at the rail a len'th in front,
fightin' fur his head.
"'_Salva-a-tion_!' goes up from the stands in one big yell.
"'_There he goes_!' hollers some swipe across the track, 'n' then
everything is quiet.
"Miss Goodloe's got her fingers stuck into my arm till it hurts. But
that don't bother me.
"'Isn't it wonderful?' she says, but the pink's gone out of her cheeks.
She's real pale . . .
"They never get near the colt. . . . He comes home alone with that big
easy, swingin' gallop of his, 'n' goes under the wire still fightin'
fur his head.
"Then that crowd goes plumb crazy! Men throws their hats away, 'n'
dances around, yellin' till they can't whisper! Miss Goodloe is
shakin' so I has to hold her up.
"'Isn't he _grand_? How would you like to own him?' a woman in the
next box says to her.
"'I'd love it,' says Miss Goodloe, 'n' busts out cryin'.
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