"Snowball backs up. I grabs the fork from the little shrimp.
"'Aw, you go to hell!' says Micky. He lays down on a bail of straw 'n' pulls his hat over his face. 'If any guy bothers me while I'm gettin' my rest,' he says, 'call a hearse. Don't wake me up till some guy wants a hoss worked out.'
"One day I goes to lay a piker's bet in Ike Rosenberg's book.
"'Hello, Blister,' says Ike, when he goes to hand me the ticket. 'I like that one myself. Go over 'n' lay me a hundred 'n' fifty the same way,--here's the change.'
"When I bring Ike his ticket he tells me to wait a minute, 'n' pretty soon he puts a sheet-writer on the block 'n' steps down.
"'Come over here,' he says, 'n' I trails him out of the bettin' shed. 'I've took a two-year-old for a thousand dollar marker of Seattle's,' says Ike, swingin' 'round on me. 'You want him?'
"'To train, you mean?' I says, 'Is that it?'
"'Sure,' says Ike. 'You can have him on shares if you want.'
"'Well,' says Ike, 'he's a big little hoss made good all over. He ain't never started yet, but he's been propped for two months. He's by Edgemont. First dam, Cora, by Musketeer. Second dam, Débutante, by Peddler. Third dam, Daisy Dean, by Salvation. Fourth dam, Iole, by Messenger. He's registered as Hamilton, 'n' that's all I know.'
"'That's sure some breedin',' I says. 'But I never takes a colt on shares. I'll handle him fur you as careful as I know how 'n' it'll cost you fifty a month. That's the best I can do.'
"'I'll send him over this evenin',' says Ike. 'Let me know what you think of him after he works out for you.'
"I like this Hamilton colt the minute I gets my lamps on him. He ain't over fifteen hands, but he's all hoss. He'll weigh right at nine hundred, 'n' that's quite a chunk of a two-year-old. He's got a fine little head on him 'n' his eye has the right look. A good game hoss'll look at you like a eagle. I don't want nothin' to do with a sheep-eyed pup. This colt has a eye like a game cock.
"Peewee Simpson is at my stalls when they brings the colt over, 'n' after we've sized him up I asks Peewee what he thinks of the little rooster.
"'Him?' says Peewee. 'He's a bear-cat. I'll bet he entertains you frequent 'n' at short notice. I don't figger him related to Mary's lamb, not any. You better keep your eye on little Hamilton. Hammy's likely to be a naughty boy any time.'