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Updated: May 29, 2025
My memory ain't what it used to be, Al, but seems to me you took one of Curry's horses away from him and framed him up for a killing. Did I dream it, or did the skate run last? Go on and grab another horse away from the old boy!" "Will you ever quit beefing about the money you lost on that race?" snapped Engle. "Will I ever forget who got me into it?" countered O'Connor.
In this neighborhood there were three farms Webb's, Curry's, and Agate's and on the evening of our arrival some of their men paid a visit to the camp. They had heard of the expedition, and each in turn examined the horses, the dogs, the ropes, and the saddles, and then, like the hunters at Nairobi, asked the inevitable question: "But how are you going to do it?"
After a careful survey of the black horse the patriarch of the Jungle Circuit spoke. "What Jimmy Miles don't know about hosses would fill a big book!" Ten days later Fairfax, running in Old Man Curry's colours and under the name of Eliphaz, won a cheap selling race from very bad horses won it in a canter after leading all the way.
Every member of the New York East Conference knows that Dr. Curry's influence was so powerful that he could almost get a majority against it.
And where's that nigger? I want him too. Murphy, I'll see you later.... Don't go away, Mr. Curry. I need you." "That's what I call getting hunk with a vengeance, old-timer." Thus the Bald-faced Kid, at the door of Old Man Curry's tack-room. "You cleaned up right, didn't you? Weaver's ruled off for life, and his horses with him he can't even sell 'em to another stable. Murphy's lost his license.
He had ignored Old Man Curry's kindly suggestion and had persuaded all and sundry to plunge heavily on Fireball. It really was not much of a contest. Sky Pilot, on the rail, swung wide turning into the stretch and carried Resolution with him.
Sure enough, Fairfax was gnawing at the pine board; the grating rasp of his teeth became audible in the silence. After a time the horse dropped his head and gulped heavily. "Suffering mackerel!" ejaculated the Kid. "He ain't really swallowing those splinters, is he?" The time came when the Bald-faced Kid recalled that Old Man Curry's next remark was not a direct reply to his question.
Shanghai, Curry's hostler and handy man, stared at the new member of the racing string with open-mouthed and pop-eyed amazement. "Lawd's sake! What is that, a cam-u-el?" "No, I don't reckon he's a camel, exactly," replied the old man. "I don't know just what he is, Shanghai, but I'm aimin' to find out soon. The man I got him from allowed as he was a race hoss." "Huh-uh, kunnel!
The Gould and Curry is only one single mine under there, among a great many others; yet the Gould and Curry's streets of dismal drifts and tunnels were five miles in extent, altogether, and its population five hundred miners. Taken as a whole, the underground city had some thirty miles of streets and a population of five or six thousand.
If you said to me: 'This is a black horse named Fairfax and that over there is nothing, I couldn't tell which was which. Old-timer, you're in bad." "Mebbe I am." Old Man Curry's tone was apologetic and conciliating in the extreme. "Mebbe I am. You ought to know 'bout hosses, Frank. You most gener'ly do."
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