"'What do you want him to do now? Stand on his head?' he says. 'Times is dull.' "'Shoot him three furlongs,' I says. "'Shoot is the word,' says Micky. "Hamilton romps the three furlongs in nothin' flat--I'm tickled sick. "'He's a bear!' I says to Micky at the stalls. ''N' as fur you--you're on the pay-roll.' "'Why, you're a live one, ain't you?' says Micky. 'Wait till I go chase the Smoke!' The next thing I see is Snowball goin' down the line like a quarter hoss, 'n' Micky's proddin' at him with a pitchfork. "'He won't be back,' says Micky, when he's puttin' up the fork. "'Now, look-a here,' I says, 'you got to cut this rough stuff, if you works fur me.' "'Aw, you go to hell!' says Micky to me. "Right then I gets him by the collar, 'n' takes a bat from the rack. I works on him till the bat's wore out 'n' then reaches fur another. Micky ain't opened his face. I wears that one out 'n' grabs another. Micky looks up at the rack--there's four more bats left. "'Nix on number three!' he yells. 'I'm listenin' to you!' "'All right,' I says, hangin' up the bat. 'Now, listen good. _Cut out this rough stuff_--you got me?' "'I got you,' says Micky. "I tells Ike he's got a good colt, but only one boy can ride him. Ike comes over to the stalls with me to see the boy 'n' Hamilton. "'Not that kid?' he says, when he takes a slant at Micky. 'A hobby-hoss lets him out.' "Micky goes straight up. "'Why, you fat-headed Kike!' he says. 'The only thing you can tell me about a hoss is how much the nails cost to hold his shoes on.' "Ike turns to me. "'Don't never let that boy throw a leg over a hoss of mine again,' he says. 'Enter this colt in the two-year-old scramble Friday. I'll get Whitman to ride. I guess _he'll_ hold him.' "'Now, look at that!' I says to Micky when Ike's gone. 'You _will_ shoot off your face, won't you? Ain't you _never_ goin' to learn to keep that loud trap of yours closed?' "'Aw, you go--' Micky stops there. "I takes a step towards the whip rack. "'Come on--' I says, 'let's hear from you!' "'--to hell with the big Kike!' says Micky. "'Does that let me in?' I says. "Micky studies a minute lookin' at me 'n' the bats in the rack. "'Naw--just the Kike,' he says at last. "When Whitman's up on Hamilton, before they goes to the post, I tries to put him wise. "'You're on a bad actor, Whitty,' I says. 'If you ain't on your toes, he runs off with you sure.' This Whitman's a star, 'n' nobody knows it better'n him. "'What do _you_ hire a jock fur?' he says. 'Why don't you train 'n' ride both?' "'All right,' I says. 'I'm _tellin'_ you now!' "'If this hoss is ready,' says Whitman, 'you've earned your money--don't work overtime.' "I goes through the paddock 'n' out on the lawn. Before I'm there I hears the crowd yellin'. When I can see the track, there's the field at the post all but Hamilton. He 'n' Whitty has made a race all to theirselves. It turns out to be a six mile ramble with only one entry.