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Updated: June 6, 2025
The little jockey's glassy eye rested meaninglessly on the young man's face and wandered away. When the other had moved on, he dropped his eyelid and muttered to his pal: "Wants the kybosh puttin' on him. Good as called me a copper's nark." "Hundred thousand in the pot," grinned the fat man. "And a dainty bit o' white meat. I don't blame him." He licked his lips.
Green Cloak would be hard to miss because of his jockey's colours old gold, scarlet sleeves, and green and black quartered cap. The bell has hardly rung to announce that the race has begun when men in the crowd begin to dogmatise about the result. One man keeps saying: "Green Cloak wins this race. Green Cloak wins this race." Another says: "Liberal leads." Another says: "No; that's Jumping Frog."
Jefferson reined up, and courteously invited the man to enter. "The jockey raised his eye-brows, and asked "'Why, do you live here? "'Yes, was the simple reply. "'Why, stranger, what the deuce might be your name? "'My name is Thomas Jefferson. "Even the jockey's brass turned pale when, putting spurs to his nag, he exclaimed "'And my name is Richard Jones, and I'm ok!
With his knees pushed up like a jockey's, he rode off, the pointer of chance, or the cunning of his own inscrutable brain, directing him the way Boyle had gone the evening before. His going left her nerveless and weak. She sat and watched him out of sight beyond the cottonwoods and willows, thinking what a terrible thing it was to ride out with the cold intention of killing a man.
In a day or two I shall have made him quite tame, and have got him into excellent paces and shall have saved the money I must have paid away, had I put him into a jockey's hands." Time passed, night came on, and other guests came in.
In this scheme Louis, after he had obtained the evidence of the jockey's villany, went on board of the steamer which was to convey them all over the ocean, and succeeded, with no little difficulty, in convincing his mother of the unworthiness of her husband; and she returned with her son to Von Blonk Park.
Little Mose was dreaming that he had piloted the winner of the Burns Handicap and was being carried to the jockey's room in a floral horseshoe which rocked in a very violent manner. The motion became so pronounced that Mose opened his eyes, and found Old Man Curry shaking him. "Get up, you lazy little rascal! Got a job for you this mornin'. Turn out!"
"Let's see your face!" Joses, who was standing by the steps that led up to the weighing-room, leapt on to them and snatched the cap from the jockey's head. He stood displayed before them, fair-haired, close-cropped, shy, and a little sullen. There was a moment's pause. Then divergent voices shot heavenward and clashed against each other. "It is!" "It's her!" "That's Miss Woodburn!"
My courage mounted with the excitement, and I looked eagerly around for some more bold and dashing leap. "You may take him over the avenue gate," said the English groom, divining with a jockey's readiness what I looked for; "he'll do it, never fear him." Strange as my equipment was, with an undress jacket flying loosely open, and a bare head, away I went.
It was a long tale, for there were all the jockey's vain attempts to sin, as well as all the adventures of the clergyman, who became very sinful indeed, but it ended happily, for when the jockey died the cardinal virtues returned to the clergyman.
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