Most generally they do, on Sunday, if work's slack.
You might git in on it, if you're around in these parts." He pushed his back straight with his palms, turned his head sidewise and squinted at Smoky through half-closed lids while he fumbled for cigarette material.
"I dunno but what I might be willin' to put up a few dollars on that horse myself," he observed, "if you say he kin run.

You wouldn't go an' lie to an old feller like me, would yuh, son ?" Bud offered him the cigarette he had just rolled.

"No, I won't lie to you, dad," he grinned.

"You know horses too well." "Well, but kin he run?
I want yore word on it." "Well-yes, he's always been able to turn a cow," Bud admitted cautiously.
"Ever run him fer money ?" The old man began teetering from his toes to his heels, and to hitch his shoulders forward and back.
"Well, no, not for money.

I've run him once or twice for fun, just trying to beat some of the boys to camp, maybe." "Sho! That's no way to do! No way at all!" The old man spat angrily into the dust of the corral.