Blister Jones | Page 5

it 'ud been clear to the bone. I cusses Duckfoot good, 'n' rubs vaseline into the leg."
I interrupted Blister long enough to inquire:
"Don't they blister horses sometimes to cure them of lameness?"
"Sure," he replied. "But a hoss don't work none fur quite a spell afterwards. A blister, to do any good, fixes him so he can't hardly raise his leg fur two weeks.
"Well," he went on, "the race fur maidens was the last thing on the card. I'm in the betting-ring when they chalks up the first odds, 'n' my hoss opens at twenty-five-to-one. The two entrance moneys have about cleaned me. I'm only twenty green men strong. I peels off ten of 'em 'n' shoved up to a booky.
"'On the nose fur that one,' I says, pointin' to the bird's name.
"'Quit your kiddin',' he says. 'What 'ud you do with all that money? This fur yours.' 'N' he rubs to twelve-to-one.
"'Ain't you the liberal gink?' I says, as he hands me the ticket.
"'I starts fur the next book, but say!--the odds is just meltin' away. Joe's 'n' Cal's dough is comin' down the line, 'n' the gazabos, thinkin' it's wise money, trails. By post-time the bird's a one-to-three shot.
"I've give the mount to Sweeney, 'n' like a nut I puts him hep to the bird, 'n' he tells his valet to bet a hundred fur him. The bird has on socks again, but this time they're empty, 'n' the race was a joke. He breaks fifth at the get-away, but he just mows them dogs down. Sweeney keeps thinkin' about that hundred, I guess, 'cause he rode the bird all the way, 'n' finished a million len'ths in front.
"I cashes my ticket, 'n' starts fur the barn to sleep with that bird, when here comes Joe Nickel.
"'He run a nice race,' he says, grinnin', 'n' hands me six hundred bucks.
"What's this fur?' I says. 'You better be careful . . . I got a weak heart.'
"'I win twelve hundred to the race,' he says. ''N' we splits it two ways.'
"'Nothin' doin',' I says, 'n' tries to hand him back the wad.
"'Go awn!' he says, 'I'll give you a soak in the ear. I bet that money fur you, kiddo.'
"I looks at the roll 'n' gets wobbly in the knees. I never see so much kale before--not at one time. Just then we hears the announcer sing out through a megaphone:
"'The o-o-owner of Count Nobul-l-l-l is wanted in the judge's stand!'
"'Oy, oy!' says Joe. 'You'll need that kale--you're goin' to lose your happy home. It's Katy bar the door fur yours, Bud!'
"'Don't worry--watch me tell it to 'em,' I says to Joe, as I stuffs the roll 'n' starts fur the stand. I was feelin' purty good.
"'Wait a minute,' says Joe, runnin' after me. 'You can't tell them people nothin'. You ain't wise to that bunch yet. Bud--why, they'll kid you silly before they hand it to you, 'n' then change the subject to somethin' interestin', like where to get pompono cooked to suit 'em. I've been up against it,' he says, ''n' I'm tellin' you right. Just keep stallin' around when you get in the stand, 'n' act like you don't know the war's over.'
"'Furget it,' I says. 'I'll show those big stiffs where to head in. I'll hypnotize the old owls. I'll give 'em a song 'n' dance that's right!'
"As I goes up the steps I see the judges settin' in their chairs, 'n' I takes off my hat. Colonel King ain't settin', he's standin' up with his hands in his pockets. Somehow, when I sees him I begins to wilt--he looks so clean. He's got a white mustache, 'n' his face is kind-a brown 'n' pink. He looks at me a minute out of them blue eyes of his.
"'Are you the owner of Count Noble, Mr.--er--?'
"'Jones, sir,' I says.
"'Jones?' says the colonel.
"'Yes, sir,' I says.
"'Mr. Jones,' says the colonel, 'how do you account for the fact that on Thursday Count Noble performs disgracefully, and on Saturday runs like a stake horse? Have the days of the week anything to do with it?'
"I never says nothin'. I just stands there lookin' at him, foolin' with my hat.
"'This is hell," I thinks.
"'The judges are interested in this phenomenon, Mr. Jones, and we have sent for you, thinking perhaps you can throw a little light on the matter,' says the colonel, 'n' waits fur me again.
"'Come on . . . get busy!' I says to myself. 'You can kid along with a bunch of bums, 'n' it sounds good--don't get cold feet the first time some class opens his bazoo at you!' But I can't make a noise like a word, on a bet.
"'The judges, upon looking over the betting sheets of the two races in which your horse appeared,