in at nine that evenin'. I sends him to the depot to fix it so I
can take the colt to Loueyville in the express car, 'n' he says he'll
get back quick as he can. I hunts up Peewee, but he's goin' to stay
all night, 'cause the yearlin's won't sell till next day. . . .

"The sun's goin' down when we starts fur the depot, Uncle Jake drivin',
'n' me settin' behind, leadin' the colt. The sunlight's red, 'n' when
it hits that chestnut colt he shines like copper. Say, but he was some
proud peacock!

"I sends word to Miss Goodloe we're comin', 'n' she's waitin' at the
gate. The colt nickers when he sees her, 'n' she comes 'n' takes the
lead strap from me. Then she holds up her finger at the colt.

"'Now, Boy-baby!' she says. 'Everything depends on you--you're all
mammy has in the world . . . will you do your best for her sake?' The
colt paws 'n' arches his neck. 'See, he says he will!' she says to me.

"'What's his name?' I asks her.

"'Oh, dear, he hasn't any!' she says. 'I've always called him
Boy-baby.'

"'He can't race under that,' I says.

"'Between now and the time he starts I'll think of a name for him,' she
says. 'Do you really believe he can win?'

"'They tell me his dam wins twenty thousand the first year she raced,'
I says.

"'He'd be our salvation if he did that,' she says.

"'There's a name,' I says. 'Call him Salvation!' She says over it two
or three times.

"'That's not a bad racing name, is it?' she asks me.

"'No'm,' I says. 'That's a good name.'

"'Very well, Boy-baby,' she says to the colt. 'I christen thee
_Salvation_, with this lump of sugar. That's a fine name! Always bear
it bravely.' She puts her arms around the colt's neck 'n' kisses him
on the nose. Then she hands me the lead strap 'n' steps aside.
'Good-by, and good luck!' she says.

"When we turns the bend, way down the road, she's still standin' there
watchin' us . . .

"I sends the colt down with a swipe, 'n' he's been at the track a week
when I gets to New Awlins. The boys have begun to talk 'bout him
already, he's such a grand looker. He don't give me no trouble at all.
He's quiet 'n' kind 'n' trustin'. Nothin' gets him excited, 'n' I
begins to be afraid he'll be a sluggard. It don't take me long to see
he won't do fur the sprints--distance is what he likes. He's got a big
swingin' gallop that sure fools me at first. He never seems to be
tryin' a lick. When he's had two months prep. I has my exercise-bo