."

"When was this?" I asked.'

"The year I first starts conditionin' hosses," he answered.

I had noticed that dates totally eluded Blister. A past occurrence as
far as its relation to time was concerned, he always established by a
contemporary event of the turf. Pressed as to when a thing had taken
place he would say, "The year Salvation cops all the colt stakes," or
"The fall Whisk-broom wins the Brooklyn Handicap." This had interested
me and I now tried to get something more definite from him. He
answered my questions vaguely.

"Say, if you're lookin' fur that kind of info," he said at last, "get
the almanac or the byciclopedia. These year things slide by so easy I
don't get a good pike at one, 'fore another is not more'n a len'th
back, 'n' comin' fast."

I saw it was useless.

"Well, never mind just when it happened," I said. "Tell me about it."

"All right," said Blister. "Like I've just said it happens one winter
at New Awlins, the year after I starts conditionin' hosses.

"Things break bad fur me that winter. Whenever a piker can't win a bet
he comes 'round, slaps me on the wrist, 'n' separates me from some of
my kale. I'm so easy I squeezes my roll if I meets a child on the
street. The cops had ought to patrol me, 'cause larceny'll sure be
committed every time a live guy speaks to me.

"I've only got three dogs in my string. One of 'em's a mornin'-glory.
He'll bust away as if he's out to make Salvator look like a truck-hoss,
but he'll lay down 'n' holler fur some one to come 'n' carry him when
he hits the stretch. One's a hop-head 'n' I has to shoot enough dope
into him to make him think he's Napoleon Bonyparte 'fore he'll switch a
fly off hisself. Then when he sees how far away the wire is he thinks
about the battle of Waterloo 'n' says, 'Take me to Elby.'

"I've got one purty fair sort of a hoss. He's just about ready to
spill the beans, fur some odds-on, when he gets cast in the stall 'n'
throws his stifle out. The vet. gets his stifle back in place.

"'This hoss must have a year's complete rest,' he says.

"'Yes, Doc,' I says. ''N' when he gets so he can stand it, how'd a
trip to Europe do fur him?'

"Things go along like this till I'm busted right. No, I ain't
busted--I'm past that. I owes the woman where I eats, I owes the feed
man, I owes the plater, 'n' I owes every gink that'll stand fur a touch.

"One day a messenger boy comes 'n' leans against the stall door 'n'
pok