Once we arrives at my grandfather's, my father leaves us all
standin' in the yard and reepairs into the house. The next minute
him an' my grandfather comes out. They don't say nothin', but my
grandfather goes all over the two-year-old with eyes an' hand for
mighty likely ten minutes. At last he straightens up an' turns on my
father with a face loaded to the muzzle with rage.

"'"Willyum Greene Sterett," he says, conferrin' on my parent his
full name, the same bein' a heap ominous; "Willyum Greene Sterett,
you've brought that thing to The Hill to beat my Golddust."

"'"Yes," says my father, mighty steady, "an' I'll go right out on
your track now, father, an' let that black boy ride him an' I'll
gamble you all a thousand dollars that that two-year-old beats
Golddust."

"'" Willyum Greene Sterett," says my grandfather, lookin' at my
father an' beginnin' to bile, "I've put up with a heap from you. You
was owdacious as a child, worthless as a yooth, an' a spend-thrift
as a young man grown; an' a score of times I've paid your debts as
was my dooty as the head of the House of Sterett. But you reserves
it for your forty-ninth year, an' when I'm in my seventy-ninth year,
to perform your crownin' outrage. You've brought that thing to The
Hill to beat my Golddust. Now let me tell you somethin', an' it'll
be water on your wheel a whole lot, to give heed to that I says. You
get onto your hoss, an' you get your child Willyum onto his hoss,
an' you get that nigger boy onto his hoss, an' you get off this
Hill. An' as you go, let me give you this warnin'. If you-all ever
makes a moccasin track in the mud of my premises ag'in, I'll fill
you full of buckshot."