“Pap hadn’t oughter did me dat way,” Shin lamented. “Pap cain’t ack no diffunt,” Skeeter told him. “Some niggers is like snakes. Dey gotter wiggle an’ twist an’ go crooked to git along.” “I shore wish I could gib Pap a twist dat he ain’t lookin’ fer,” Shin declared. Skeeter eyed him a moment with intense interest. Then he asked: “Whut you gwine do wid dat money?” “I’ll ack like eve’y nigger--spend it!” Shin laughed. “I figger on buyin’ a race-hoss wid my win,” Skeeter suggested. “How would dat plan suit you wid yo’ money?” “You reckin I could git a hoss whut’ll beat Pap’s Doodlebug?” Shin asked eagerly. “Suttinly,” Skeeter assured him. “Doodlebug ain’t such a much hoss. Of co’se, he kin beat dese here old plow-hosses whut runs agin him. I knows de hoss whut kin beat him right now.” Shin pulled his roll of money out of his pocket and passed it back. “Buy me dat hoss, Skeeter,” he said earnestly. “I don’t want nothin’ as bad as I want to git Pap Curtain’s goat!” V NIGGER BLACKIE. Shin Bone tended bar for Skeeter Butts until eleven o’clock that night, then Skeeter returned to the Hen-Scratch saloon, covered with swamp mud and leading a slim black horse. “Dis is yo’ winner, Shin,” he said in weary tones, as he placed the lead-rope into the hands of the pop-eyed owner. “I got him for fifty dollars cash down, an’ he’s shore a dandy.” “He looks pretty peart,” Shin grinned. “Kin he run?” “Yep,” Skeeter said in a disgusted tone. “He kin run like a log raff floatin’ _up_ de Massassap’ River. But us ain’t winnin’ on his speed--us is bettin’ on his looks.” “I don’t ketch on ’bout dis,” Shin said stupidly. “Dis sounds to me like you done waste my money.” “Don’t go by sound, Shin,” Skeeter snickered. “Go by looks. Now listen to dis few advices: you waste all de rest of dis night scourin’ down dis hoss wid a currycomb, a brush, an’ a rag. As soon as it is good day, you git out on de race-track an’ lope dis hoss aroun’ fer a while. Ef Pap Curtain is out on de track, you show him how good dis hoss kin pufform.” Shin walked away, mumbling to himself in his perplexity. But he took the horse to Gaitskill’s stable and followed Skeeter’s advice. After five or six hours of the most arduous labor, Shin lifted his lantern and surveyed the animal. He shone like a new silver dollar, every hair was in place, and the horse was beautiful. “He shore is a looker,” Shin proclaimed. “I hopes he’s got some speed inside his black hide.” A little later, Shin rode him slowly out to the fairgrounds and entered the gate. It was just after daybreak, but early as it was, as Shin rode onto the track, he encountered Pap Curtain mounted on Doodlebug. Without a word they started around in the same direction, each man watching the other’s horse with great interest. Shin broke from a canter into a swinging gallop, and Pap followed with Doodlebug. By the time they had gone half a mile and had pulled up, Pap knew all about the black horse.