He sent it down to the Admiralty to get it ciphered right, and it took them old seagulls, the Admirals a month to find it out.
"And when they did, what did they say?
Why, cuss 'em, says they, 'any fool knows that.' Says I, 'If that's the case you are jist the boys then that ought to have found it out right off at oncet.' "Yes, Old Clay ought to go free, but he won't; and guess I am able to pay freight for him, and no thanks to nobody.

Now, I'll tell you what, English trottin' is about a mile in two minutes and forty-seven seconds, and that don't happen oftener than oncet in fifty years, if it was ever done at all, for the English brag so there is no telling right.

Old Clay _can_ do his mile in two minutes and thirty-eight seconds.

He _has_ done that, and I guess he _could_ do more.

I have got a car, that is as light as whalebone, and I'll bet to do it with wheels and drive myself.