News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1890-01-02
THE JOCKEYS REVENGE.

~~S>NS 49,
me, a tolerably good one. But l n
longer claim the turf as my profession
or whatever you are mind to call it
and on my leaving the track this stor.
hangs.
1t was good many years ago that
qmt-a mere boy at the time-thoug
my experience among men had mad
me seemingly older than was. l wa
pretty well acquainted with the way
OF the world so far as comes within
the opportunity of one mostly associ
ated with horsemen and horses, will
their attendant surroundings.
Though but a jockey-in general,
creature to be kicked and cursed
was not unlike many others of the hui
man kind. l cherished the feeling OF
revenge, and for months, yes, years
had lived to crafty it. The person
upon whom longed towreak my ven
geance was the man for whom | haC
ridden ever since l knew how. l haG
waited for the opportunity for-I car
~carcely remember how long-syel
since one day when had brother, &
brother that loved possibly as well as
others who aspired to a higher niche
on the social, yes, even the moral
SCALE
Willie, little VIII, that's what I al,
ways called him, though the others
said ''Little Bill" used to think
was more like father to him than q
brother. He was so small, and used
] to think he oughtn't to have been a
Jockey like me. l taught him to ride,
how to handle his horses ON the track
just as well as any of us-yes, better,
for when he was hath e-saddle they
would, it seemed like, strain every
nerve just to please him. You see,
even the horses loved him. He was
such quiet little fellow, and 30 sort
O. affectionate, they couldn't help it.
And | reckon that's one reason why
was kinder to him than l would have
been had he been rough fellow-like
me. When think about Willie, as
we were in those days, l always feel
sad-how proud we used to feel of
each other when either had won great
race, and how every month we'd get
| together in our little loft and fix up
our money to send home to mother and
| little sister-that's one reason we were
| jockeys. Then the promises and resolu-
tons we'd make about keeping away
from bad company till we got home;
how we'd resolve to be honest always
to our employer, and not let anybody
or anybody's money come between us
and our duty to him; how we used to
pet the horses together, till they all
knew us and understood our voices al
most as well as we did ourselves.
But that was all changed-changed
in moment of passion by the man we
had served so faithfully; the man for
whom we had won laurels and for
tune, and whose confidence had never
been broken or betrayed, or whose
commands had never been disregarded.
One day Willie lost race-one that
Mr.. Wharton, our employer, had set
his heart on winning. He had almost
won it when his horse stumbled and
went down. Mr.. Wharton was furi-
Gus. All in passion he ran to where
the two lay in a heap, and as Willie
was getting up, struck him terrible
blow with his heavy whip. The blow
and the shock of the fall was too much
for him, and it wasn't many hours be-
fore he passed away to find his home
among the white steeds of heaven. He
never recognized any us, and passed
away just like he wasgolng to sleep.
Twas to be avenged.
AT last the time Lad come. Ever
since that awful day had remained
with an old employee, awaiting the day
when | should be able to avenge the
cruel Staying of my little jockey
brother. 80
The opportunity had arrived, and
for my long waiting was none the
less determined.
1t was the last day of the great rae
ing season at -, and the closing day
was to be the greatest of all, the inter
est of the whole season being centered
upon it. 1t was to be the climax of
the sporting season, and between its
suns fortunes would be won and lost.
Randall, the horse that / was to ride,
| knew was the favorite, and on his
victory heavy odds were offered. On
every tongue were praises of his
beauty and swiftness, and on every
hand he was heralded the victor. /
knew all this and was satisfied, for l
knew that we would do our best-Ran-
dali and /.
"Bob," said Mr.. Wharton, calling
me aside on the morning of the race,
"Randall must not win. / have played
my fortune against him. If he wins,
l am ruined-completely. Even the
horse himself is on his own defeat.
Now remember"
"All right, sir; I'll remember" / |
said, with a strange feeling of excite
ment passing through ME.
This was the opportunity had wait
ed and longed for. | would win-I
would repay him for his cruelty.
Eagerly | ran to the box where Rand |
all, who was TO carry me to victory |
and vengeance, was locked. lie was
truly noble animal, almost human
beaming from his flashing
eve. Often had l ridden him, and |
often had he responded willingly to
my urging. Would he fail me this
time. No, it couldn't be, with such
little sinewy limbs, such deep set |
powerful chest, and withal such intel
ligence, he could not fail. AS | gently |
him the noble creature seemed |
to understand that he was all in all to
me them. His playful little neigh of |
recognition was a better assurance |
than any other that he would do his |
uttermost for me.
Caressing and talking, | remained
by his side until the grooms appeared |
to equip him for the track. l was
10th to let him go even then, for there
was no telling what night be employed |
to make sure that he would not win;
there was twenty times more money
on his losing than would buy two of
his breed.
1t was time to mount. All about
the stables was confusion. Horsemen
were gathered in groups talking
on the probabilities of the
race, some referring TO tablets to see
Just how much they had ventured on
their favorites. Grooms were hurry
ing hither and thithcr with blankets on
their arms and pals in their hands;
small army of jockeys engaged in an
criticism of their followers
who were to ride the great race, while
some devotee of the turf
md patron of the bookmaker more eX-
cited than the rest would rush up for
III instant to inquire after the condi-
ion of his favorite. Another asked
about the rider, while others, with a