harply. He knew that the old negro felt one
colt to be better than the other.

"All right then," he said after a moment. "Tell you what I'll do.
You've been deviling me for that five hundred dollars till I'm sick
of listening to you. Take your pick of the two colts and call it
square. How does that strike you?"

Uncle Gabe deliberated for some time. The five hundred dollars meant
a great deal to him, but the cash value of a debt is regulated
somewhat by the sort of man who owes it and Gabe realized that this
point was worthy of consideration. On the other hand, should the colt
turn out well, he would be worth several times five hundred dollars.

"Don't wait till you get 'em in training," said Pitkin. "A blind man
could pick the best one then. Take the colt that looks good to you
_now_ and let it go at that."

That evening Uncle Gabe made his selection and immediately announced
that he intended to name his colt General Duval.

"Good enough," said Pitkin, "and just to carry out the soldier idea,
I'll call the other one Sergeant Smith. Put the General in that end
stall, away from the others."

The next morning Gabe sent one of the stable hands to get his colt,
and when the animal appeared the old trainer's lower lip began to
droop, but he said nothing until after he had made a thorough
examination. "Boy, you done brought me the wrong colt," said he.
"This ain't Gen'al Duval."

"I got him outen yo' stall," said the stable hand.

"Don't care where yo' got him," persisted Gabe. "This ain't the colt
I picked out. He ain't wide enough between the eyes."

"What's the argument about?" asked Pitkin, coming from the
tackle-room.

"Gabe say thisyer ain't his colt," answered the stable hand.

"Where did you get him?" demanded Pitkin.

"Outen that stall yondeh," said the stable hand, pointing.

"That was where you put your colt, wasn't it?" asked Pitkin, turning
to Uncle Gabe.

"Yes, suh, I put him there all right, but this ain't him."

"Oh, come now," laughed Pitkin, "you've been thinking it over and
you're afraid you've picked the wrong one. Be a sport, Gabe; stick
with your bargain."

"Been some monkey business done round yere," muttered the aged negro.
"Been a li'l night walkin', mebbe. Boy, bring out that Sergeant Smith
colt an' lemme cas' my eye oveh him once!"

"See here, nigger!" said Pitkin, "I let you have first pick, didn't
I? Gave you all the best of it, and you picked this colt here. If
you've chang