Nick walked up the two steps and pushed the bell.

If you’re up in the stand with a pair of glasses all you see is them plunging off and then that bell goes off and it seems like it rings for a thousand years and then they come sweeping round the turn.

There was the sun, letting down great glowing masses of heat; there was life, active and snarling, moving about them like a fly swarm⁠—the dark pants of smoke from the engine, a crisp “all aboard!” and a bell ringing.

But my old man saying that right out like that sure took the kick all out of it for me and I didn’t get the real kick back again ever, even when they posted the numbers up on the board and the bell rang to pay off and we saw that Kircubbin paid 67.

Especially at San Siro with that big green infield and the mountains way off and the fat wop starter with his big whip and the jocks fiddling them around and then the barrier snapping up and that bell going off and them all getting off in a bunch and then commencing to string out.