The first faint golden glow appeared in the east; the adjoining stables loomed dark in the half light; here and there lanterns moved, and close at hand rose the wail of a sleepy exercise boy, roused from slumber by a liberal application of rawhide. From the direction of the track came the muffled beat of hoofs, swelling to a crescendo, and diminishing to a thin tattoo as the thoroughbreds rounded the upper turn. Old Man Curry squared his shoulders, turned his face toward the east, and saluted the dawn in characteristic fashion. "'A time to get and a time to lose; a time to keep and a time to cast away,'" he quoted. "Solomon was framin' up a system for hossmen, I reckon. 'A time to get and a time to lose.' Only thing is, Solomon himself couldn't figure which was which with some of these rascals! _Oh, Mose!_" "Yessuh, boss! Comin'!" Jockey Moseby Jones emerged from the tackle-room, rubbing his eyes with one hand and tugging at his sweater with the other. Later in the day he would be a butterfly of fashion and an offence to the eye in loud checks and conflicting colours; now he was only a very sleepy little darky in a dingy red sweater and disreputable trousers. "Seem like to me I ain't had no sleep a-a-a-tall," complained Mose, swallowing a tremendous yawn. "This yer night work sutny got me goin' south for fair." Shanghai, the hostler, appeared leading Elisha, the star of the Curry barn. "Send him the full distance, Mose," said the aged owner, "and set him down hard for the half-mile pole home." "_Hard_, boss?" "As hard as he can go." "But, boss----" There was a note of strong protest in the jockey's voice. "You heard me," said Old Man Curry, already striding in the direction of the track. "Extend him and let's see what he's got." "Extend him so's _eve'ybody_ kin see whut he's got!" mumbled Mose rebelliously. "Huh!" In the shadow of the paddock Old Man Curry came upon his friend, the Bald-faced Kid, a youth of many failings, frankly confessed. The Kid sat upon the fence, nursing an old-fashioned silver stop watch, for he was "clocking" the morning workouts. "Morning, Frank," said Old Man Curry. "You're early." "But not early enough for some of these birds," responded the Kid. "You galloping something, old-timer?" "'Lisha'll work in a minute or two." "Uh-huh. I kind of figured you'd throw another work into him before to-morrow's race. Confound it! If I didn't know you pretty well, I'd say you ought to have your head examined! I'd say they ought to crawl your cupola for loose shingles!" "And if you didn't know me at all, Frank, you'd say I was just plain crazy, eh?" Old Man Curry regarded his young friend with thoughtful gravity. Here were two wise men of the turf approaching truth from widely varying standpoints, yet able to meet on common ground and exchange convictions to mutual profit. "Spit it out, son," said Old Man Curry. "I'd sort of like to know how crazy I am."