three o'clock
`` I ca n't see why that was , '' wailed Ozzie B. `` I done nothin ' an ' -- an ' -- got all -- all -- the -- lickin ' ! '' `` You jes ' reaped my whirlwind , '' sneered his brother -- `` All fools do ! '' But later he felt so sorry for poor Ozzie B. because he could not lie on his back at all , that he gave him one of his beautiful coins to go to sleep . It was the last afternoon of the fair , and the great race was to come off at three o'clock . There is nothing so typical as a fair in the Tennessee Valley . It is the one time in the year when everybody meets everybody else . Besides being the harvest time of crops , of friendships , of happy interchange of thought and feeling , it is also the harvest time of perfected horseflesh .