Peewee's geldin' is a distance hoss--he don't get goin' good under a
mile. In a bull-ring sprint he ain't got a chance with this black stud
of Butsy's.
"Our game is to have Butsy turn his dash-hound loose the first heat.
Then I ambulates out among the rubes 'n' acts like I'm willing to bet
on the bay geldin'. If I finds a live one, Butsy takes his hoss up in
his lap the last two trips 'n' Peewee comes on 'n' grabs the gravy.
"We figger the rubes'll eat it up after seein' that nice-lookin' black
stud romp away with the first heat. But right there the dope falls
down--the rubes ain't as dead as they look.
"In the first town we strike I eases up to a tall Jasper after the
black hoss has grabbed the opener on the bit.
"'Say, pardner,' I says, 'do you ever bet a piece of money on a race?'
"This Jasper is just a Adam's apple surrounded by arms 'n' legs.
"'Well, I should say as much,' he says. 'But most ginrally they wan't
nobody bet with me. Up in Liberty Township the boys call me Lucky
Andy.'
"'It's a crime to do this!' I says to myself. 'I'll make a little bet
with you, pardner,' I says out loud. 'Not much though--you're too
lucky!'
"'How was ye calkewlatin' to bet?' says the Jasper.
"'This black hoss acted kind-a tired to me,' I says. 'I'll just bet
you twenty bucks he don't win the race.'
"'You look like a smart little cuss,' he says. 'What's good enough fer
you is good enough fer me.' He beats it over to where another rube is
settin' in a buggy.
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