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Updated: June 22, 2025
She went on: "Dee say he sutny live strong, wuz jes rich as cream, an' weahed he blue coat an' brass buttons, an' lived in dat ole house whar was up whar de pines is now, an' whar bu'nt down, like he owned de wull. An' now look at it; dat man own it all, an' cuttin' all de woods off it. He don't know nuttin 'bout black folks, ain' nuver been fotch up wid 'em.
The jockey sat up, yawning and knuckling his eyes. "Solomon must have had at least one little black boy," said the old man. "'Love not sleep lest thou come to poverty. Hurry up, Mose!" "Yes, suh," mumbled the drowsy youngster. "Reckon Sol'mun neveh had to gallop a string an' ride 'em too. I sutny earns whut I gits when I git it."
If I was goin' after corn, I don't believe I'd say so." Mose listened, nodding from time to time. "Boss," said he earnestly, "I sutny always did want to see whut thisyer Egypt looks like. Outside of that, I neveh heard nothin', I don't know nothin', an' I can't tell nothin'. Beginnin' now, a clam has got me beat in a talkin' match!" Old Man Curry smiled and combed his long, white beard.
Pull in as close to Elisha as you can, but not so close that Merritt can claim a foul, and you know the rest." Mose nodded soberly. "Sutny do, boss. But I neveh knowed 'at ol' 'Lisha " "That'll do," said Old Man Curry sternly. "There's lots of things you don't know, Mose." "Yes, suh," said the little negro, subsiding. "Quite a many." Later the Bald-faced Kid came to Old Man Curry in the paddock.
"Boss," panted little Mose, "I kin do everything to thisyer hoss but stop him. He sutny do love to run once he git goin'. All the way down the stretch he was asayin' to me: 'Come on, jock! Lemme go round again! Yes, suh, he was beggin' me faw 'notheh mile!" "Ah-hah," said Old Man Curry. "That's the way it looked to me. Well, to-morrow we'll let him do that extra mile, but we'll get up earlier.
Heah, help me on wid dat shut, gal I stan'in' heah talkin' an' maybe ole marster waitin'. Push de do' open so you kin see. Forty year ago," he murmured, as Polly jammed the door back and returned to his side "forty year ago dee come an' leveled on me: marster sutny did cry.
There was a ticket in it which called for twenty-two dollars in case Elisha won a two-dollar bet at 10 to 1. It was put there by Old Man Curry just before the bugle blew. "Bring him home in front, Mose," said the old man. "Sutny will!" grinned the negro. "You betting much on him, boss?" "I visited a while with the children of Israel," said Curry gravely.
I don' seem to place you, jock. Where you been ridin'? East?" "I ain't a jock. I'm only gallopin' 'em. Who are you?" "Jockey Jones, whut rides faw Misteh Curry. If you ain't a jock, you sutny ought to be. You don't set a hawss like no exercise boy. Thass why I mistook you faw Walsh." "What horse is that?" "This jus' one 'em Curry beetles. Whut you got, jock?" "Zanzibar." "Any good?"
Ol 'Lisha jus' tip his to 'em otheh hawsses an' say: ''Scuse me, gen'elmen an' ladies, but I got mos' uhgent business down yondeh 'bout quahteh of a mile; 'em judges waitin' faw me. 'At's what he say, boss. Nothin' to it a-a-atall." "Give him plenty of room, Mose." "Sutny will. Won't git me nothin' stickin' on 'at rail.
This was Elijah, burning his early speed, jack-rabbiting ten lengths in front of his field, but beginning to notice his exertions and feel the swift pace. "'Lijah," remarked little Mose, looking back over his shoulder, "if eveh you finds a race track whut's got a short home stretch in it, you'll be 'notheh Roseben. Sutny will. On'iest trouble 'ith you, 'Lijah, 'em stretches built too long faw you.
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