Horse racing -- Fiction; Thoroughbred horse -- Fiction
"The sale is just startin' when we get there. The auctioneer is in the
judge's stand at the track 'n' the hosses is showed in the stretch.
"The first thing to sell is brood mares, 'n' they're as good a lot as I
ever looks over. I loses Peewee in the crowd, 'n' climbs on to a shed
roof to see better.
"Pretty soon here comes a real ole nigger leadin' a mare that looks to
be about as old as the nigger. At that she showed class. Her head's
still fine, 'n' her legs ain't got so much as a pimple on 'em.
"'Number eleven in your catalogues, gentlemen!' says the auctioneer.
'Mary Goodloe by Victory, first dam Dainty Maid by--what's the use of
tellin' you _her_ breedin', you _all_ know _her_! Gentlemen,' he says,
'how many of you can say you ever owned a Kentucky Derby winner? Well,
here's your chance to own one! This mare won the derby in--er--
"'Eighty-three, suh--I saw her do it,' says a man with a white mustache.
"'Eighty-three, thank you, Colonel. You have a fine memory,' says the
auctioneer. 'I saw her do it, too. Now, gentlemen,' he says, 'what am
I offered for this grand old mare? She's the dam of six winners--three
of 'em stake hosses. Kindly start the bidding.'
"'Twenty dollahs!' says the ole nigger who has hold of the mare.
"'Fifty!' says some one else.
"'Hole on dah,' sings out the ole nigger. 'I'se just 'bliged to tell
you folks I'se pu'chasin' dis hyar mare fo' Miss Sally Goodloe!'
"The auctioneer looks at the guy who bids fifty.
"'I withdraw that bid,' says the guy.
"'Sold to you for twenty dollars, Uncle Jake,' says the auctioneer.
'Bring on number twelve!'
"'Hyah's yo' twenty dollahs,' says the ole nigger, fishin' out a roll
of raggedy bills and passin' 'em up to the stand.
"'Thank you, Uncle Jake. Come to the clerk for your bill of sale this
evenin',' says the auctioneer.
"I watches the sale a while longer, 'n' then mooches into the big barn
where the yearlin's 'n' two-year-olds is waitin' to be sold. They're a
nice lot of colts, but I ain't interested in this young stuff--colts is
too much of a gamble fur me. Only about one in fifty'll make good.
Somebody else can spend their money on 'em at that kind of odds.
"I goes out of the colt barn 'n' begins to ramble around, lampin'
things in general. I comes to a shed full of plows, 'n' I has to laugh
when I sees 'em. I'm standin' there with a grin on my face when a
nigger comes 'round the shed 'n' sees me lookin' at them plows.
"'Fine plows, sah, an' vehy cheap,' he says.
"'Do I look like I needs a plow?' I says to him.
"'No, sah,' says the nigger, lookin' me over. 'I cyant rightly say you
favohs plowin', but howkum you ain' tendin' de sale?'
"'I don't see nothin' over there that suits me,' I says.
"The nigger is sore in a minute.
"'You is suttanly hahd to please, white man,' he says. 'Ain' no finah
colts in Kaintucky dan dem.'
"'That may be so, but how about Tennessee?' I says, just to get him
goin'.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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