Major Ewell Duval Pettigrew was an early riser, but he was barely into his trousers when a bell boy tapped at his door. The major was small and plump, with a face like a harvest moon, if you can imagine a harvest moon wearing a bristling moustache and goatee. Horsemen knew to their sorrow that the major owned a long memory, a short temper, and strong prejudices. Consistent racing was his cry and woe to the in-and-outer. "Somebody to see me, eh?" sputtered the major. "Blankety blank it to blank! Man can't even get his breakfast in peace! Oh, Mr. Curry. Show the gentleman up, boy." "Judge," said Old Man Curry, after shaking hands, "there's something you ought to know. I bought that Eliphaz hoss from Jimmy Miles--bought him cheap." "And a good bargain, suh," remarked Major Pettigrew. "Mebbe. Well, Miles has been pesterin' me for a week wantin' to buy the hoss back. Said he never would have sold him if he hadn't been in licker. He kind of thought I took advantage of him, he said, but it wa'n't true, judge, not a word of it. So last night I let him buy the hoss back--for cash. This mornin' the hoss is in Al Engle's barn." "Ah!" Major Pettigrew twisted his goatee until it stuck out straight from his chin. "Engle, eh?" "He knew I never would have sold that hoss to him, so he sent Miles," explained Old Man Curry. "I--I've had some trouble with Engle, judge. I beat him a few times when he wasn't lookin' for me to win. In case anything happens, I thought I better see you and explain how Engle got hold of the hoss--through another party." "Yes, suh," said Major Pettigrew. "I understand yo' position perfectly, suh. Suppose, now, you had not sold the animal. Would you say he had a chance to win the Handicap?" "Judge," said Old Man Curry earnestly, "I would have bet on him from hell to breakfast. Now I don't know's I would put a nickel on him." "Neither would I, suh. And, speaking of breakfast, Mr. Curry, will yo' join me in a grilled kidney?" "Thank you just the same, judge, but I reckon I better be gettin' back to the track. I had my breakfast at sunup. I thought you ought to know the straight of how this black hoss come to change owners." "I am indebted to you, suh," said the major, with a bow. Jockey Merritt, wearing Engle's colours, stood in the paddock stall eyeing Eliphaz and listening to the whispered instructions of the new owner. "Get him away flying, jock, and never look back. He's a fast breaker. Keep him in front all the way, but don't win too far." "Bettin' much on him?" asked Merritt. "Not a nickel. He opened at even money and they played him to 4 to 5. I don't fancy the odds, but you ride him just the same as if the last check was down--mind that. On his workout yesterday morning he's ready for a better race than any he's shown so far, so bring him home in front."