Hyah is a
lettah foh you from Mr. Sigsbee relative to the mattah.' He hands me a
letter, but I can't hardly read it--his buyin' this hop-head gets my
goat.
"'What you goin' to do with him?' I says. 'Race him?'
"'That is ma intention, suh,' he says. 'Ah expect to keep him in yoh
hands. But, of co'se, suh, the hawss will race on his merits and
without any sawt of stimulant.'
"I ain't stuck on the proposition. The Trampfast hoss can't beat a
cook stove without the hop. I hate to see the ole man burn up his
dough on a dead one.
"'Now, Mr. Sanford,' I says, 'times has changed since you raced. If
you'll let me handle this hoss to suit myself I think I can make a
piece of money fur you. The game ain't like it was once, 'n' if you
try to pull the stuff that got by thirty years ago, they'll trim you
right down to the suspenders. They ain't nothin' crooked about
slippin' the hop into a hoss that needs it.'
"'As neahly as I can follow yoh fohm of speech,' says ole man Sanford,
'you intend to convey the impression that the practise of stimulating a
hawss has become entirely propah. Am I correct, suh?'
"'That's it,' I says. ''N' you can gamble I'm right.'
"'Is the practise allowed under present day racing rules?' says ole man
Sanford, 'n' I think I've got him goin'.
"'Why, sure not,' I says. 'But how long would a guy last if he never
broke a racin' rule?'
"'Out of yoh own mouth is yoh augument condemned, suh,' says ole man
Sanford.
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