"It ain't long till he's overseein' my whole string of hosses, just like he owns 'em. Man, he sure does enjoy hisself! He won't trade places with August Belmont. "I'm gettin' Trampfast ready fur a nice little killin'. He's finished away back in two starts, but he runs both races without a pill. This hoss is a dope. He's been on it fur two seasons. He won't beat nothin' without his hop. But when he gets just the right mixture under his hide he figgers he can beat any kind of a hoss, 'n' he's about right at that. He furgets all about his weak heart with the nutty stuff in him. He thinks he's a ragin' lion. He can't wait to go out there 'n' eat up them kittens that's goin' to start against him. "One mawnin' my boy Pete takes the Trampfast hoss out fur a trial. "'If he'll go six furlongs in about fourteen,' I says to Pete, 'he's right. If he tries to loaf on you, shake him up; but if he's doin' his work nice, let him suit hisself 'n' keep the bat off him. I want to see what he'll do on his own.' "'I think he'll perform to-day,' says Pete. 'He's felt real good to me fur the last week.' "Ole man Sanford's standin' there listenin'. When the work-out starts he ketches the time with a big gold stop-clock that he fishes out of his shiny ole vest. The clock's old, too--it winds with a key--but at that she's a peach! "'That's a fine clock,' I says to him. He don't take his eyes off the hoss comin' round the bend. "'He's running with freedom and well within himself,' he says. 'That quatah was in twenty-foh flat! Yes, suh, this watch was presented to me by membahs of the Breedah's Association to commemorate the victory of Sweet Alice in the tenth renewal of our classic. You have heard me speak of Sweet Alice?' "'Yes, you told me about her, Mr. Sanford,' I says. 'That's sure some clock.' "'If he does not faltah in the stretch, suh,' says ole man Sanford, 'I will presently show you the one minute and fohteen seconds you desiah upon its face.' "The ole man's a good judge of pace,--Trampfast comes home bang in the fourteen notch. "When Pete gets down at the stalls, ole man Sanford walks up to him. "'Hyah is a dollah foh you, boy,' he says, 'n' hands Pete a buck. 'That was a well-rated trial.' "Pete looks at the silver buck 'n' then at ole man Sanford 'n' then at me. "'What the hell--' he says. "'You rough neck!' I says to Pete. Don't you know how to act when a gentleman slips you somethin'?' "'But look a-here,' says Pete. 'He ain't got--' I gives Pete a poke in the slats. 'Much obliged, sir,' he says, 'n' puts the bone in his pocket. "'You are entirely welcome, mah boy,' says ole man Sanford, wavin' his hand. "'Say,' Pete says to me, 'I think this hoss'll cop without shot in the arm. He's awful good!'