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Updated: June 27, 2025
How such a decent old darky as Uncle Gabe ever came to be associated with white trash of the Pitkin variety is another and longer story. It is enough to say that Pitkin hired the old man when he was hungry and thereafter frequently reminded him of that fact.
Some of the horsemen of the Jungle Circuit pretended to believe that Pitkin kept a negro trainer because he was too mean to get along with a white man, but this was only partly true.
Pitkin coolly as possible, considering the startling nature of the information she had received. "Probably Uncle Oliver returned sooner than he anticipated, and was merely passing through the city. He has important business interests at the West." "I don't think he was merely passing through the city, for a friend of mine saw him at the Fifth Avenue Theater last evening." Mrs.
When she came to herself, the skeleton was bending over her anxiously, but its face was no longer frightful; it was white and anxious, and the eyes that met hers were piteous with distress. "My, oh!" cried Don Alonzo. "I vowed no one should do her any hurt, and now I've done it myself." There was little sleep in the Pitkin house that night.
When they reached Murray Street, Dick said: "Follow me. We'll cut across the City Hall Park. It is the shortest way." Soon they reached the shabby old building with which New Yorkers were then obliged to be content with as a post-office. Phil secured the mail matter for Pitkin & Co., and was just about leaving the office, when he noticed just ahead of him a figure which looked very familiar.
"Pitkin, yo' an' me is through; yo' an' me is done! Yo' made me all the trouble yo' eveh goin' make. Nex' time they ketches yo' cheatin' on a race track I hopes they shoot yo' head off!" Old Gabe walked away toward the Curry barn, and all Pitkin could do was stare after him. Then he sat down on a bale of hay and took stock of his misfortunes.
"Hot, ain't it?" asked the newcomer by way of making a little talk. "What you reading, Curry?" Old Man Curry looked up from the thirteenth chapter of Proverbs, ceased chewing his straw, and regarded Pitkin with a grave and appraising interest which held something of disapproval, something of insult. Pitkin's eyes shifted.
It was plain that Pitkin's visit had no business significance; he was not the sort of man to play a maiden race, and after a few bantering remarks addressed to old Gabe he drifted back into the betting ring, where he made a casual note of the fact that on most of the slates General Duval was quoted at 40 to 1. "Anybody betting on the nigger's skate?" asked Pitkin of a black man whom he knew.
There seemed at first glance only the elements of joyousness and gayety in the surroundings at the Pitkin farm. Thanksgiving was come the family, healthy, rosy, and noisy, were all under the one roof-tree.
Carter sternly. "Why did your husband seize the opportunity to get rid of a boy in whom he knew me to be interested as soon as he thought I was out of the way? Why, moreover, did he refuse the boy a reference, without which Philip could scarcely hope to get employment?" "You will have to ask Mr. Pitkin. I am sure he had good reason for the course he took.
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