Blister Jones Part 7

"I can't hardly see the race, I'm so groggy from the jolt Elsy hands me. Friendless breaks in front and stays there all the way. Lou Smith just sets still 'n' lets the hoss rate hisself. That ole hound comes down the stretch a-rompin', his ears flick-flackin' 'n' a smile on his face. He wins by five len'ths 'n' busts the track record fur the distance a quarter of a second.

"Then it begins to get brisk around there. I figger to have Alcyfras all warmed up outside the fence the day Friendless wins. After the race I'd put _him_ in the stall 'n' send Friendless out the gate.

Elsy, practisin' the owner act, has gummed the game--Alcyfras is over in the other end of town.

"Ole Friendless bustin' the track record is the final blow. I don't hardly get to the stall 'fore here comes the paddock judge 'n' his a.s.sistant.

"'We want this hoss and you, too, over at the paddock,' he says.

'What's the owner's name?'

"'Alcibides Tuttle,' I says.

"'Is that all?' says the paddock judge. 'Go get him, Billy!' he says to his a.s.sistant. 'You'll likely find him cas.h.i.+n' tickets.'

"When we gets to the paddock, there's Colonel King and the rest of the judges.

"'Take his blanket off,' says the colonel, when we leads in the hoss.

"'He's red-hot, Colonel,' I says.

"'So am I,' says the colonel. 'Who was caretaker for the horse Friendless when he was racing?' he asks some of the ginnies.

"'Duckfoot Johnson,' says the whole bunch at once.

"'Send for him,' says the colonel.

"'I's hyar, boss,' says Duckfoot, from the back of the crowd.

"'Come and look this horse over,' says the colonel.

"'I done looked him over befo', boss,' says Duckfoot, when he gets to the colonel.

"'When?' says the colonel. 'When did you see him?'

"''Bout a month ago,' says Duckfoot.

"'Did you recognize him?' says the colonel.

"'Yes, sah,' says Duckfoot, 'I done recnomize him thoully fum his haid to his tail, but I ain' never seed him befo'.'

"'Recnomize him again,' the colonel tells him.

"'Boss,' says Duckfoot, 'some folks 'low dis hoss am Frien'less, but hit ain'. Ef hits Frien'less, an' yo' puts yo' han' hyar on his belly dey is a rough-feelin' scab. Dis hoss am puff.e.c.kly smo-o--' then he stops 'n' begins to get ashy 'round the mouth.

"'Well?' says the colonel. 'What's the matter?'

"'Lawd Gawd, boss! _Dis am Frien'less . . . Hyar's de scah_!' says Duckfoot, his eyes a-rollin'. Then he goes 'round 'n' looks at the hoss in front. 'Whar his white foot at?' he asks the colonel.

"'That's what we are about to ascertain,' says the colonel. 'Boy,' he says to a ginny, 'run out to the drug store with this dollar and bring me back a pint of benzine and a tooth-brush.'

"The ginny beats it.

"'You may blanket this horse now,' the colonel says to me.

"When the ginny gets back, Colonel King pours the benzine on the tooth-brush 'n' goes to work on the off-forefoot. It ain't long till it's nice 'n' white again.

"'That is most remarkable!' says Elsy, who's watchin' the colonel.

"'In my opinion, Mr. Tuttle,' says the colonel, 'the only remarkable feature of this affair is yourself. I can't get you properly placed.

The a.s.sociation will take charge of this horse until the judges rule.'

"The next day the judges send fur me 'n' Elsy. It don't take Colonel King thirty seconds to rule me off--I don't get back fur two years, neither! Then the colonel looks at Elsy.

"'Mr. Tuttle,' he says, 'if your connection with this business is as innocent as it seems, you should be protected against a further appearance on the turf. On the other hand, if you have acted a part in this little drama, the turf should be protected against you. In either case the judges desire to bring your career as an owner to a close; and we hereby bar you and your entries from all tracks of the a.s.sociation.

This is final and irrevocable.'

"Three years after that I'm at Hot Springs, 'n' I drops into McGlade's place one night to watch 'em gamble. There's a slim guy dealin' faro fur the house, 'n' he's got a green eye-shade on. All of a sudden he looks up at me.

"'Blister,' he says, 'do you ever tumble there's two ringers in the New Awlins deal? Me 'n' Buck Harms has quite a time puttin' it over--without slippin' you five hundred.'

"It's Elsy! 'N' say!--_his voice ain't any squeakier 'n mine_!"

WANTED--A RAINBOW

At our last meeting Blister had told me of a "ringing" in years gone by that had ended disastrously for him. And now as we idled in the big empty grand-stand a full hour before it would be electrified by the leaping phrase, "They're off!" I desired further reminiscences.

"Ringing a horse must be a risky business?" I ventured.

"Humph!" grunted Blister, evidently declining to comment on the obvious.

Then he glanced at me with a dry whimsical smile. "I see that little ole pad stickin' out of your pocket," he said. "Ain't she full of race-hoss talk yet?"

"Always room for one more," I replied, frankly producing the note-book.

"Well, I guess I'm the goat," he said resignedly. "I _had_ figured to sick you on to Peewee Simpson to-day, but he ain't around, so I'll spill some chatter about ringin' a hoss among the society bunch one time, 'n'

then I'll buy a bucket of suds."

"_I'll_ buy the beer," I stated with emphasis.

"All right--just so we get it--I'll be dryer'n a covered bridge," said Blister.

"This ringin' I mentions," he went on, "happens while I'm ruled off.

"At the get-away I've got a job with a Chicago buyer, who used to live in New York. This guy has a big ratty barn. He deals mostly in broken-down skates that he sells to pedlers 'n' cabmen. Once in a while he takes a flier in high-grade stuff, 'n' one day he buys a team of French coach hosses from a breedin' farm owned by a millionaire.

"Believe me they was a grand pair--seal brown, sixteen hands 'n' haired like babies. They fans their noses with their knees, when get's the word, 'n' after I sits behind 'em 'n' watches their hock-action fur a while I feels like apologizin' to 'em fur makin' 'em haul a b.u.m like me.