It was with a king's pride that Patsy marched home with his first
considerable earnings.

They were small yet, and would go for food rather than a doctor, but
Eliza was inordinately proud, and it was this pride that gave her
strength and the desire of life to carry her through the days
approaching the crisis of her disease.

As Patsy saw his mother growing worse, saw her gasping for breath,
heard the rattling as she drew in the little air that kept going her
clogged lungs, felt the heat of her burning hands, and saw the pitiful
appeal in her poor eyes, he became convinced that the city doctor was
not helping her. She must have another. But the money?

That afternoon, after his work with McCarthy, found him at the
Fair-grounds. The spring races were on, and he thought he might get a
job warming up the horse of some independent jockey. He hung around
the stables, listening to the talk of men he knew and some he had
never seen before. Among the latter was a tall, lanky man, holding
forth to a group of men.

"No, suh," he was saying to them generally, "I'm goin' to withdraw my
hoss, because thaih ain't nobody to ride him as he ought to be rode. I
haven't brought a jockey along with me, so I've got to depend on
pick-ups. Now, the talent's set agin my hoss, Black Boy, because he's
been losin' regular, but that hoss has lost for the want of ridin',
that's all."

The crowd looked in at the slim-legged, raw-boned horse, and walked
away laughing.