Riding High Page #7

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Well, for one thing, you're developing

into a very tasty little dish.

You think I'll have any

difficulty down here?

There's a lot of characters I know

that would just love

to add you to their

crockery collection.

Fine. I'll get myself a rosy-cheeked

peasant and get married.

Great. Great.

L'amour comes to la Princesse, huh?

Now you're talk...

I tell you what.

Why don't you save yourself

for old Dan, huh?

After Margaret gives me the brush,

why, you and I can hit the road

together, just like tramps.

Oh, ho, for the open road

- Wort that be dandy?

- Yeah, that's a good idea

- if my peasant doesn't object.

- You've got him all picked out.

You've been operating since we left

Higginsville. What did you grab?

- Some big All-American, I'll bet.

- No.

Well, who, then?

Come on, tell Grandma...

Oh, don't be so smart. He's perfect.

He's the ideal man.

He's 11 feet tall.

He hasn't any ears,

and he eats little babies.

Here, wait a minute, princess.

Hey, wait a minute.

Princess, I'm sorry.

Come on. This is old dancing Dan,

your pal.

The fellow with the songs

and the lively patter.

Come on. Give us a smile, big.

Show the china.

Let's see them all.

That's better. That's better.

That's the princess

we love and adore.

Look, honey. You marry anybody

you want to, hear?

You go to the hotel and check in

and stick around for the race

if you wanna too.

It's your life. You live it.

That's what I've always preached.

Come on, sermors over.

School's out. Beat it now.

I gotta get Broadway Bill

used to the starting gate.

Horses I understand, fair.

But women...

- Whitey.

- Yes?

Hey, bubblehead. You mean you got

me up this morning just to see this?

Early bird, Happy. Early bird.

Take a deep breath of fresh air.

Get something in your lungs. Live.

Ride him up close, rider.

Hey, Sid.

I think he's catching on.

Yes, bring him back tomorrow,

and if he breaks all right,

I'll take him off the schooling list.

Thanks. Isn't it amazing what a

difference that little rooster makes?

Smile, Skeeter.

Why don't you slap a saddle

on the rooster.

- You might have a better chance.

- Oh, you think so, huh?

You'd holler if you're hung

with a new rope.

Hey, jock. This time don't pull him up.

Work him out a good mile, will you?

- I wanna clock him.

- All right, Mr. Brooks.

- I wanna clock him.

- All right, Mr. Brooks.

Ready his head.

Who's that black horse?

He's really traveling.

Oh, that's that Brooks' Broadway Bill

by Burning Ginger.

They all look good when

they're working alone.

There's nothing running this morning.

Come on, let's get out of here.

- I got a date.

- He's really moving.

Holy smoke, I wouldn't believe it.

- What'd he do it in?

- 1:
39.

Crying to run all the way.

Shake that watch.

I think it's ad-libbing.

Why, he was sired by Pegasus.

Whitey, go get the champion

and cool him out and bring him in.

- Hurry up.

- Yes, sir. 1:
39.

How about that? I've never seen

a 3-year-old work...

Here comes a spy from

the Confederate Army.

Oh, we're cooked.

Well, Dad. I'm glad you came around.

We just clocked him.

Ninety-two dollars and 72 cents.

Oh, I love the way you ease

into a conversation.

I say, you should've been here.

You know what he worked in?

I don't give a hang.

I want this feed bill paid.

- Pop, I promised you...

- I can't pay my bills with promises.

You got no bank account, mister.

I checked up on you.

Either I get my money now,

or I go to the law.

Now, my dear friend,

if you're worried about a paltry 92.82,

my good friend here,

Professor Pettigrew,

will be only too happy to vouch for

my financial stability. Right, professor?

Why, of course, of course. Let's pay

this vulture off and be rid of him.

- How much is it, $1,000?

- Oh, no, no, professor.

It would be senseless

to break a big bill here.

Just tell him you guarantee

my obligations.

- To the full limit of my resources.

- There you are. You see?

I don't see nothing.

Never saw him before.

Never heard of him.

Looks like a phony to me.

- Eh?

- He's a rival tycoon.

This isn't funny.

No, I know, but he's really

one of the biggest operators...

I don't give a hang who he is,

I want my money.

Well, you're gonna get it.

But you don't understand.

You're not coordinating.

We're letting you in on a good thing.

Horse named Broadway Bill

just worked a mile in 1:39,

- with the jock sitting right against him.

- Eh?

- He worked the mile in 1:39.

- Wait a minute.

- What's the idea of telling him that?

- Mr. Cadwalliger, I...

I thought this was

a private syndicate.

I have a jolly good mind

to withdraw my $25,000.

- Now, now...

- I didn't invest $25,000

to have you slip the information

to a penny-ante feed man.

He's not that.

He's not at all.

Pop Jones is one of my oldest

and truest friends.

I don't care if he's your

half-wit brother.

- But he can be trusted, I tell you.

- You can trust a mug

with a puss like that.

I won't. I'm through.

- Mr. Cadwalliger...

- Let him go.

I shall assume his obligation.

No, professor, you're in for

$50,000 already. That's enough.

Why, it's a trifle, a trifle.

Your horse is good enough for me.

- Come along. I'll wire my brokers.

- Well, sir, I...

I hope I didn't cause you no trouble,

Mr. Brooks.

Trouble? Don't you ever

let that happen again.

No, no.

Let what happen again?

Mr. Brooks, don't drop our dinner.

It might bend.

Don't you be belittling

these beans, boy.

I'm just gonna let them simmer a little,

cut in a few of Bill's carrots,

add a soupcon of paprika,

a dash of lemon.

- You can cut out the lemon.

- Why?

Because we're fresh out of them.

Say. Looks like it's blowing up

a little rain, Whitey.

Good for us tomorrow.

Old Bill loves the mud.

Shower down, rain.

Let me hear from you.

- Hey, somebody's in the barn.

- Hope it ain't the feed man.

Oh, you.

Welcome to

the Higgins Greasy Spoon.

What's going on here?

What are you doing?

Nothing much. It just seemed to me

this shack needed a womars touch.

Look. You're a nice kid, but you can't

stake a claim around these diggings.

We can take care of ourselves

all right, now beat it.

You've been doing

a pretty sloppy job of it.

You two look like you're

in the last stages of beriberi.

What have you been living on, beans?

Why is it all women want to play

Florence Nightingale?

We've been eating like pigs,

haven't we, Whitey?

That's the word.

Besides, if you wanna hang around

here, you've got to wear pants.

- What do you think these are?

- Those look like my best Levi's.

- You been into my bag?

- No.

Come on, take them off. Take off my

Levi's. Come on. Whose are they?

- Are they mine?

- No, they're mine.

Well, you look very cute in them,

as you well know.

- Sure. Ravishing.

- What did you do?

Corner that little peasant somewhere?

Go on, I've got work to do.

I don't know if I wanna...

Pushed around in my own place.

Anyway, how do you expect

to win a race if you don't eat?

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