Uh course," he made haste to add, "I git holt of a little, now and agin.

Too old to ride--too old to work--jest manage to pick up a dollar er two now and agin--on a horse that kin run." He went over to Smoky again and ran his hand down over the leg muscles to the hocks, felt for imperfections and straightened painfully, slapped the horse approvingly between the forelegs and laid a hand on his shoulder while he turned slowly to Bud.
"Young feller, there ain't a man on the place right now but you an' me.

What say you throw yore saddle on this horse and take 'im up to the track?
I'd like to see him run.

Seems to me he'd ought to be a purty good quarter-horse." Bud hesitated.

"I wouldn't mind running him, grandpa, if I thought I could make something on him.