nel King ever speaks to
me, 'n' I swells up like a toad. 'I'm gettin' to be all the gravy
'round here,' I says to myself.

"Two days after this they puts an overnight mile run fur maidens on the
card, 'n' I slips the bird into it. I knowed it was takin' a chance so
soon after his bad race, but it looks so soft I can't stay 'way from
it. I goes to Cal Davis, 'n' tells him to put a bet down.

"'Oh, ho!' he says. 'Lendin' me a helpin' hand, are you?' Then I
tells him about Nickel.

"'Did Joe Nickel work him out for you?' he says. 'The best is good
enough fur you, ain't it? I'll see Joe, 'n' if it looks good to him
I'll take a shot at it. Much obliged to you.'

"'Don't never mention it,' I says.

"'How do you mean that?' he says, grinnin'.

"'Both ways,' says I.

"The mawnin' of the race, I'm givin' the bird's bad leg a steamin',
when a black swipe named Duckfoot Johnson tells me I'm wanted on the
phone over to the secretary's office, 'n' I gets Duckfoot to go on
steamin' the leg while I'm gone.

"It's a feed man on the phone, wantin' to know when he gets sixteen
bucks I owe him.

"'The bird'll bring home your coin at four o'clock this afternoon,' I
tells him.

"'Well, that's lucky,' he says. 'I thought it was throwed to the
birds, 'n' I didn't figure they'd bring it home again.'

"When I gets back there's a crap game goin' on in front of the stall,
'n' Duckfoot's shootin'. There's a hot towel on the bird's leg, 'n'
it's been there too long. I takes it off 'n' feel where small blisters
has begun to raise under the hair--a little more 'n' it 'ud been clear
to the bone. I cusses Duckfoot good, 'n' rubs vaseline into the leg."

I interrupted Blister long enough to inquire:

"Don't they blister horses sometimes to cure them of lameness?"

"Sure," he replied. "But a hoss don't work none fur quite a spell
afterwards. A blister, to do any good, fixes him so he can't hardly
raise his leg fur two weeks.

"Well," he went on, "the race fur maidens was the last thing on the
card. I'm in the betting-ring when they chalks up the first odds, 'n'
my hoss opens at twenty-five-to-one. The two entrance moneys have
about cleaned me. I'm only twenty green men strong. I peels off ten
of 'em 'n' shoved up to a booky.

"'On the nose fur that one,' I says, pointin' to the bird's name.

"'Quit your kiddin',' he says. 'What 'ud you do with all that money?
This fur yours.' 'N' he rubs to twelve-to-one.

"'Ai