A SPEEDWAY INCIDENT. 



They had just come into Durando's. The representa- 

 tive from Pataloosa Valley had ordered the drinks all 

 around, and this is the way he explained it, as they sipped 

 the hot Scotch : 



"Say, boys, it's on me, and that's why I'm doing these 

 honors. But you all saw that white streak go up the 

 Speedway, and you saw he 'didn't do a thing to me,' so 

 it's my treat; but I'll tell you the inside of it. I brought 

 my trotter Pataloosa Bill down here to show them on the 

 Speedway how it's done. Well, the first day I showed 

 them ; and then as I'd heard so many claim they had the 

 'King of the Speedway,' I thought I was due to chip in 

 and claim the title for Bill. There was a feller here in 

 the barroom — I don't claim he was drinkin', only lookin' 

 on — who was listenin' for fair to what I was sayin'. 

 Presently, and confidentially, he called me aside and 

 asked : 'Look here, son, do you really believe that Pata- 

 loosa Bill is King of the Speedway ? Now do you really 

 believe it ? He was a well-made feller with a deep chest- 

 tone voice, was the speaker, and a rather voluminous 

 chestnut moustache, with sort of grey- eyes that didn't 

 make him appear that he was greatly in need of a guar- 

 dian. Nevertheless I sort of took pity on him, as I an- 

 swered : "Now, look here, pard, do you think I'd come 

 round here blowin' my bugle and chuckin' a bluff? Do 

 I look that kind ? I'd want you to know I'm from Pata- 

 loosa, and Pataloosa is way up the Creek, close to the 

 headwaters, and the town is named after creek, see? (I 

 learned that final to a sentence since I came to New 



