I've got my stake to make, and I want to make it before all my teeth fall out so I can't chew anything but the cud of reflection on my lost opportunities.

If Smoky can run a few dollars into my pocket, I'm with you." Grandpa teetered forward and put out his hand.

"Shake on that, boy!" he cackled.

"Pop Truman ain't too old to have his little joke--and make it bring him in something, by Christmas! You saddle up and we'll go try him out on a quarter-mile--mebby a half, if he holds up good." He poked a cigarette-stained forefinger against Bud's chest and whispered slyly: "My son Dave, he 's got a horse in the stable that's been cleanin' everything in the valley.

I'll slip him out and up the creektrail to the track, and you run that horse of yourn agin him.