Blister Jones Part 32

"'Look at dat!' says s...o...b..ll. 'He's los' his min'.'

"'_No, he ain't_!' I says. '_He's there forty ways_!' I've just begun to tumble the kid's wise as owls. 'Oh, you Micky!' I hollers. 'Go to it, you white boy!'

"I hate to tell you how far that kid works the hoss. He keeps handin'

him the bat every other jump. It gets so I can run as fast as they're movin' 'n' Hamilton's just prayin' fur help. I'm afraid he'll jim the colt fur good, so I yells at Micky to cut it out, when he comes by.

"'Come down off of that, you squirt!' I says. 'Do you want to kill the colt?'

"'Aw, you go to h.e.l.l!' he says, 'n' 'round they go again. When Hamilton ain't got more'n a good stagger left, Micky rides him through the gate to the stall.

"'Now, pony,' he says to Hamilton, 'don't start nothin' you can't finish.'

"The trip kills a ordinary hoss, but they ain't nothin' ordinary about this Hamilton. I learns _that_ then. We cools him out good 'n' in three days he's kickin' the roof off the stall.

"Come work-out day Micky goes up on Hamilton. Say, the colt eats out of his hand. Micky's got him buffaloed right. He gallops Hamilton a nice mile 'n' pulls up at the gate.

"'What do you want him to do now? Stand on his head?' he says. 'Times is dull.'

"'Shoot him three furlongs,' I says.

"'Shoot is the word,' says Micky.

"Hamilton romps the three furlongs in nothin' flat--I'm tickled sick.

"'He's a bear!' I says to Micky at the stalls. ''N' as fur you--you're on the pay-roll.'

"'Why, you're a live one, ain't you?' says Micky. 'Wait till I go chase the Smoke!' The next thing I see is s...o...b..ll goin' down the line like a quarter hoss, 'n' Micky's proddin' at him with a pitchfork.

"'He won't be back,' says Micky, when he's puttin' up the fork.

"'Now, look-a here,' I says, 'you got to cut this rough stuff, if you works fur me.'

"'Aw, you go to h.e.l.l!' says Micky to me.

"Right then I gets him by the collar, 'n' takes a bat from the rack. I works on him till the bat's wore out 'n' then reaches fur another.

Micky ain't opened his face. I wears that one out 'n' grabs another.

Micky looks up at the rack--there's four more bats left.

"'Nix on number three!' he yells. 'I'm listenin' to you!'

"'All right,' I says, hangin' up the bat. 'Now, listen good. _Cut out this rough stuff_--you got me?'

"'I got you,' says Micky.

"I tells Ike he's got a good colt, but only one boy can ride him. Ike comes over to the stalls with me to see the boy 'n' Hamilton.

"'Not that kid?' he says, when he takes a slant at Micky. 'A hobby-hoss lets him out.'

"Micky goes straight up.

"'Why, you fat-headed Kike!' he says. 'The only thing you can tell me about a hoss is how much the nails cost to hold his shoes on.'

"Ike turns to me.

"'Don't never let that boy throw a leg over a hoss of mine again,' he says. 'Enter this colt in the two-year-old scramble Friday. I'll get Whitman to ride. I guess _he'll_ hold him.'

"'Now, look at that!' I says to Micky when Ike's gone. 'You _will_ shoot off your face, won't you? Ain't you _never_ goin' to learn to keep that loud trap of yours closed?'

"'Aw, you go--' Micky stops there.

"I takes a step towards the whip rack.

"'Come on--' I says, 'let's hear from you!'

"'--to h.e.l.l with the big Kike!' says Micky.

"'Does that let me in?' I says.

"Micky studies a minute lookin' at me 'n' the bats in the rack.

"'Naw--just the Kike,' he says at last.

"When Whitman's up on Hamilton, before they goes to the post, I tries to put him wise.

"'You're on a bad actor, Whitty,' I says. 'If you ain't on your toes, he runs off with you sure.' This Whitman's a star, 'n' n.o.body knows it better'n him.

"'What do _you_ hire a jock fur?' he says. 'Why don't you train 'n'

ride both?'

"'All right,' I says. 'I'm _tellin'_ you now!'

"'If this hoss is ready,' says Whitman, 'you've earned your money--don't work overtime.'

"I goes through the paddock 'n' out on the lawn. Before I'm there I hears the crowd yellin'. When I can see the track, there's the field at the post all but Hamilton. He 'n' Whitty has made a race all to theirselves. It turns out to be a six mile ramble with only one entry.

"I goes to the stand 'n' scratches Hamilton while he's still runnin'.

The field waits at the post till they get a clear track.

"'I didn't know this was a distance race,' I says to Whitty when he gets down. Whitty's sore as a crab, the bunch'll mention it to him the rest of the season.

"'You don't want a jock on this thing,' he says. 'A engineer is what he needs.'

"'Sell him,' is the first words Ike says to me when I sees him.

"'_Sell him_?' I says. 'You must be drunk! Why, he don't bring a ten case note. Everybody's hep he's a bolter. Now listen! This is a real good colt, 'n' I know it; but the bunch don't. That boy of mine can ride him. If you gives the colt another chance with my boy up, he shows 'em somethin'. Then you can get a price fur him.'

"'Do what you like with him,' says Ike. 'But I don't pay out another simoleon on him! I'm through right now!'

"'Give me half what he wins his next out 'n' _I'll_ take a chance with him,' I says.