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"I wish I was dead," Bob groaned, drooping in every line of his figure. "I wish I'd never been born." "Blasphemy number two. Didn't He make you in His image? What right you got wishin' He hadn't created you? Why, you pore w-worm, you're only a mite lower than the angels an' yore red haid's covered with glory." Blister's whisper of a voice took unexpectedly a sharp edge. "Snap it up!
"I can't tell you how sorry I am you've taken him it's a fearful risk," I said. "Get out!" said Blister. "He won't even muss my hair. I never go in to him alone 'n' he don't like company fur his little stunts. He's a regular family hoss in a crowd." Two stable-boys now climbed the track fence and came toward us rather hastily. "Been on a vacation?" was Blister's greeting to them.
"Where's the wound at?" he asked. The young fellow showed him. "J-June, you go get Doc T-Tuckerman," Blister ordered. She flew to obey. The fat man opened the shirt. "Look out for the blood," Bob said, still faintly. "Ouch!" Blister's hand was traveling slowly next to the flesh. "N-no blood here," he said. "Why, I felt it." "R-reckon not, son." Blister exposed his hand in the moonlight.
Each time he crept to the river with a thumping heart. Those bushes were they really willows or Indians waiting to slay him when he got closer? Fear is paralyzing. It pushes into the background all the moral obligations. Half a dozen times the young ranger was on the point of waking Dud to tell him that he could not stand it alone. He recalled Blister's injunctions.
"Rob Roy second and running easy the rest nowhere!" "Jes' you wait!" called Uncle Jake. "You ole fool nigger!" came Blister's muffled voice. Even at that distance I could have told which one was last. The same effortless floating stride I had noticed long ago was hers as Très Jolie, foot by foot, ate up the gap. At the far turn she caught the stragglers and one by one she cut them down.
"Well, I brings out Salvation as a three-year-old, 'n' what happens is quite a bunch of chatter want to hear it?" "You know it," I said, dropping into Blister's vernacular. "That's pretty good for you," he said, grinning at my slang. "Well, to begin with, I'm in Loueyville. It's in the fall, 'n' I'm just back from Sheepshead. One way 'n' another I've had a good year.
Mrs. Dillon's face as she, too, entered the stall was tear-wet and alight with a great tenderness. A boy dodged his way to where we stood. His face and the front of his blue and gold jacket were encrusted with dirt. "You shoe-maker!" was Blister's scornful greeting. "Honest to Gawd it wasn't my fault, Judge," the boy piped, sniffling. "Honest to Gawd it wasn't!
Derby day dawned as fair as turquoise sky and radiant sun could make it. I had slept badly. Until late the night before I had absorbed a haze of cigar smoke and the talk in the hotel lobby. Despite Blister's confidence I had become panicky as I listened. There had been so much assurance about several grave, soft-spoken horsemen who had felt that at the weight the favorite could not win.
Blister's hand swept the two-mile circle of stalls that held somewhere within their big curve the enemy. The boy at the mare's head laughed joyously. "They ain't got a chance!" he gloated. "All right, Chick," said Blister. "Put her up! Hold on!" he corrected suddenly. "Here's the boss!" And I became aware of a throbbing motor behind me. So likewise did Très Jolie. "Whoa, Jane!
"You want me to brag an' strut like Jake Houck?" "No-o, not like that. But Blister's right. You've got to know your worth. When you're sure of it you don't have to tell other people about it. They know." He considered this. "Tha's correct," he said. "Well, then." Bob had an inspiration. It was born out of moonshine, her urging, and the hunger of his heart. His spurs trailed across the grass.
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