overbs of Solomon for profit in
their wisdom, which habit alone was sufficient to earn for him a
reputation for eccentricity.

Old Man Curry clinched this general opinion by entering into no
entangling alliances with brother owners, and the bookmaker did not
live who could call him friend. He attended strictly to his own
business, which was training horses and racing them to win, and while
he did not swear, drink liquor, or smoke, he proved he was no Puritan
by chewing fine-cut tobacco and betting on his horses when he thought
they had a chance to win and the odds were to his liking. For the
latter he claimed Scriptural precedent.

"Wasn't the children of Israel commanded to spile the Egyptians?"
said he. "Wasn't they? Well, then! the way I figger it times has
changed a lot since then, but the principle's the same. There's some
children of Israel making book 'round here that need to be spiled a
heap worse'n Pharaoh ever did." Then, after thought: "But you got to
go some to spile bad eggs." As the little negro drew near, the
blackness of his visage was illuminated by a sudden flash of ivory.
Elisha snorted and shook his head from side to side. Old Man Curry
stepped forward and laid his hand upon the bridle.

"Well, Mose?" said he. The small rider gurgled as he slipped from the
saddle:

"Nothin' to it, nothin' to it a-a-atall. 'Is 'Lisha bird, he's ready
to fly. Yes, suh, he's prepaihed to show all 'em otheh hawsses which
way 'is track runs!"

"Went good, did he, Mose?"

"Good! He like to pull my ahms off, 'at's how good he went! Yes, suh,
he was jus' buck-jumpin' all 'e way down 'at stretch. 'Ey kin all be
in front of him tuhnin' fo' to-morreh, an' he'll go by 'em so fas'
'ey won't know which way he went!"

Old Man Curry nodded. "Elisha ain't no front runner," said he. "He's
like his daddy--does all his running in the last quarter. He comes
from behind."

"Sure does!" chirped Mose. "All I got to do is fetch him into 'e
stretch, swing wide so he got plenty of room to ambulate hisse'f,
boot him once in 'e slats, an'--good night _an'_ good-by! Ol 'Lisha
jus' tip his to 'em otheh hawsses an' say: ''Scuse me, gen'elmen an'
ladies, but I got mos' uhgent business down yondeh 'bout quahteh of a
mile; 'em judges waitin' faw me.' 'At's what he say, boss. Nothin' to
it a-a-atall."

"Give him plenty of room, Mose."

"Sutny will. Won't git me nothin' stickin' on 'at rail. 'Em white
bu'glahs don't seem to crave me nohow