"'Yes, sir,' he says. 'Pool and billiard room just across the street.' "'Much obliged,' I says. I see the tomtit ain't got a man's size chirp in him, so I goes outside 'n' hunts up a bull. "'Can you wise me up to a pony bazaar in this neck of the woods?' I says to him. "'Go chase yourself,' he says. 'What do you think I am--a capper?' "'Be a sport,' I says. 'Come through with the info--I ain't a live one. I'm a chalker, 'n' I'm flat. I'm lookin' fur a job.' "He sizes me up fur quite a while. "'Well,' he says at last, 'I guess if they trim you they'll earn it. Go down two blocks, then half a block to your right and take a squint at the saloon with the buffalo head over the bar.' "I finds the saloon easy enough. "'Make it a tall one,' I says to the barkeep. "While I'm lappin' up the drink, a guy walks in 'n' goes through a door at the other end of the booze parlor. "'Where does that door go to?' I says to the barkeep. "'It's nothin' but an exit,' he says. "'That's right in my line,' I says. 'I'll take a chance at it.' "When I opens the door I hears a telegraph machine goin'. "'Just like mother used to make,' I says out loud, 'n' follows down a dark hall to the poolroom. "I watches the New Awlins entries chalked up 'n' I sees a hoss called Tea Kettle in the third race. Now this Tea Kettle ain't a bad pup. He's owned by a couple of wise Ikes who never let him win till the odds are right. Eddie Murphy has this hoss 'n' Duckfoot Johnson's swipin' him.' "'I wish I knew what they're doin' with that Tea Kettle to-day,' I says to myself, when I've looked 'em all over. "I've been settin' there fur quite a while when a nigger comes in. I don't pay no attention to him at first, but I happen to see him fish a telegram out of his pocket 'n' look at it. "'That ole nigger's got some dope,' I says to myself. 'I'll amble over 'n' try to kid it out of him.' "I mosies over to where he's settin'. He puts the wire in his pocket when he sees me comin'. I sets down beside him 'n' goes to readin' the paper. Pretty soon I folds up the paper 'n' looks at the board. "'That Tea Kettle might come through,' I says to the ole nigger. "'Dat ain' likely,' he says. 'He ain' won fo' a coon's aige.' "'I talks to his swipe not very long ago,' I says, ''n' he tells me he's good.' "The ole nigger looks at me hard. "'Whar does you hol' dis convahsation at?' he says. "'Sheepshead,' I says. "'Does you reccomember de name ob de swipe?' says the ole nigger. "'Sure!' I says, 'I've knowed _him_ all my life! His name is Duckfoot Johnson.' "'Yes, suh!' he says. 'Yes, suh--an' what mought yo' name be?' "'Blister Jones,' I says. "'Why, man!' he says, 'I've heard ob you frequen'ly. Ma name am Johnson. Duckfoot is ma boy; hyars a tellegam fum him!' "He pulls out the wire. 'T. K. in the third,' it says. I looks up at the board--Tea Kettle's twelve-to-one.