"'Very well, Boy-baby,' she says to the colt. 'I christen thee _Salvation_, with this lump of sugar. That's a fine name! Always bear it bravely.' She puts her arms around the colt's neck 'n' kisses him on the nose. Then she hands me the lead strap 'n' steps aside. 'Good-by, and good luck!' she says. "When we turns the bend, way down the road, she's still standin' there watchin' us . . . "I sends the colt down with a swipe, 'n' he's been at the track a week when I gets to New Awlins. The boys have begun to talk 'bout him already, he's such a grand looker. He don't give me no trouble at all. He's quiet 'n' kind 'n' trustin'. Nothin' gets him excited, 'n' I begins to be afraid he'll be a sluggard. It don't take me long to see he won't do fur the sprints--distance is what he likes. He's got a big swingin' gallop that sure fools me at first. He never seems to be tryin' a lick. When he's had two months prep. I has my exercise-boy let him down fur a full mile. Man! he _just gallops_ in _forty flat_! Then I know I've got somethin'! "His first race I'm as nervous as a dame. I don't bet a dollar on him fur fear I'll queer it. Anyway, he ain't a good price--you can't keep him under cover, he's too flashy-lookin'. "Well, he comes home alone, just playin' along, the jock lookin' back at the bunch. "'How much has he got left?' I says to the jock after the race. "'Him!' says the jock. 'Enough to beat anybody's hoss!' "I starts him the next week, 'n' he repeats, but it ain't till his _third_ race that I know fur sure he's a great hoss, with a racin' heart. "Sweeney has the mount, 'n' he don't get him away good--the colt's layin' a bad seventh at the quarter. Banjo's out in front, away off--'n' she's a real good mare. That pin-head Sweeney don't make a move till the stretch, then he tries to come from seventh all at once . . . 'n' by God, he does it! That colt comes from nowhere to the Banjo mare while they're goin' an eighth! The boy on Banjo goes to the bat, but the colt just gallops on by 'n' breezes in home. "'You bum!' I says to Sweeney. 'What kind of a trip do you call that? Did you get off 'n' shoot a butsy at the stretch bend?' "'If I has a match I would,' says Sweeney. 'I kin smoke it easy, 'n' then _back_ in ahead of them turtles.' "I know then the colt's good enough fur the stakes, 'n' I writes Miss Goodloe to see if I can use the fourteen hundred he's won to make the first payments. She's game as a pebble, 'n' says to stake him the limit. So I enters him from New Awlins to Pimlico. "I've had all kinds of offers fur the colt, but I always tell 'em nothin' doin'. One day a lawyer named Jack Dillon, who owns a big stock farm near Lexington, comes to me 'n' says he wants to buy him. "'He ain't fur sale,' I tells him. "'Everything's for sale at a price,' he says. 'Now I want that colt worse than I do five thousand. What do you say?' "'I ain't sayin' nothin',' I says.