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Updated: July 23, 2025
"'No chance, says Butsy. 'All the stalls is took except these new ones, 'n' the guy who furnished the lumber fur 'em won't unlock 'em till he's paid. "I looks at the stalls there's a great big padlock on each door. "'Why don't they slip him the coin? I says. "'You can search me, says Butsy. 'That's what they're chewin' the rag about now. "Me 'n' Peewee slides over to where the crowd is.
"'Now, says Butsy, 'I'm born 'n' raised in Mount Clinton, Ohio. I sees the race meet there frequent 'n' she's a peach. You can have a hoss lay down 'n' go to sleep on the track if you don't want him to win 'n' then tell the judges he's got spring fever. Everything goes except murder. We'll take that black stud of mine 'n' Peewee's bay geldin' 'n' hit this punkin circuit.
We can win a purse each week fur travelin' expenses, 'n' what we cops on the side is velvet. "'What do you want me fur? I says. "'Why, says Butsy, 'at these county fairs there ain't no bookies. They just bets from hand to hand. While me 'n' Peewee rides, you sashay out among the rubes 'n' get the coin down on whichever hoss we frames to win.
"When we come in sight of the stalls, there's Butsy standin' in the rain with the hosses. A big bunch of Jaspers is holdin' a meetin' out in front of a row of bran'-new stalls that's just been put up. There's a hot argument goin' on 'n' they don't pay no attention to the rain. "'You gone dippy? I says to Butsy. 'What are you standin' out in the rain with the dogs fur? Why don't you put 'em up?
Peewee 'n' me has knocked around together so much we knows each other's ways, but we ain't never had much to do with this Butsy, so we ain't wise to him at first. "It ain't long till Butsy begins to figger we're tryin' to hand it to him. He gets sour-balled about everythin' we does. We try to kid him, but he ain't hep to a kid 'n' he don't stand fur it like he'd ought.
What do you want to make a crack about quittin' fur just as the game's gettin' good? I says. 'We cops a neat little bundle at our last stop, 'n' we'll grab a nice piece of change here. I feel it in my bones. "'All right, says Butsy. 'I'll be the goat just once more but take it from me this is the last time! "'Send a wagon fur the trunk when you get up-town, I says to Butsy when he's goin'.
"Then Butsy goes ahead 'n' tells us the frame-up. He shows us an ad in his paper askin' fur entries to race over the Ohio Short Ship Circuit. This circuit is a bunch of race meets that's held on the bull rings at county fairs up through the state. They're trottin' races mostly, but they give one runnin' race at a different town each week.
They go back to the farm when the meetin' closes, so I ain't worried none not about where to ship. "One night me 'n' Peewee Simpson is playin' pitch on a bale of hay with a lantern. Butsy Trimble is settin' beside the bale readin' a hoss paper. "'Gimme high, jack, game says Peewee, after a hand. "'I'll give you a poke in the nose! I says. 'What you got fur game?
"'About three miles 'n' all hills, says Butsy. "'How do you get out? says Peewee. "'We could take the street-car if it wasn't fur the hosses, says Butsy. 'As it is we'll have to hoof it through the mud. "'Look-a here, I says to Butsy, 'there's no sense in three of us gettin' wet. You know the way 'n' we don't. You take the hosses 'n' we'll come out on the street-car.
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