Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1895-10-10
How He Lost the Race.

Mortality has swung out, and is fol-
lowing close behind, third from the
pole. The wire isterribly near. Who
ever wins will win by short head
Suddenly something happens. a
nurse girl with her escort down close
by the fence has boone too deeply in
terested, and her little charge has tod
died out upon the track and stands
piteously helpless right in the path Of
the flying racers. Billy sees it all in
an instant-the Mortified expression
on the nurse girls face, and the dazed
look of the little fodder on the track
ahead. He can guide Settler around
her, he thinks, but nothing can save
the baby from the rushing "feld" be-
hind.
What can he do? A single false
move, and the race is lost. 1t won't
be his fault if the child is crushed,
anyway. and to win the race means
so much. But, someway, something
in the appealing face Of the baby
makes him think of the little sister
asleep in the tiny English church yard
so far away over the waters, and-he
can't help it, he must do something
But what?
Like flash he remembers a picture
he once saw of a brave hussar who
snatched little child from in front of
flying regiment of horse. After the
Wild West show was on the other side,
all the lads about the stables had prac-
ticed for weeks picking up articles from
the ground by dropping over the horses
side, and he had been the best of them
all; but this was so vastly different.
He knew he would fall but he must
try. With one hard pull on the reins
he drops them, and with cry to Self
ger he slips his left foot through the
stirrup and draws the slender iron up
to his knee, kicks his other foot clear,
and throws himself wild to the right,
straight down over the horses side.
There he hangs by one knee, head
down, his arms outstretched and his
little body swinging wildly against the
racers side at every bound.
Settler falters in her pace and drops
back. With a wild sweep Of his arms
Billy clasps the little form close and
lifts the baby clear of the ground as
the flying horses hurl madly by. The
strain is terrible one, and he can
only drag himself up a little way. His
leg is almost broken by the sharp STIR
rup. He can only bend himself up
as far as possible, close his eyes, and
hold tight. He hears the wild shouts
from the crowds as David sweeps by,
a winner On they go, for it seems a
mile, but in reality only dozen rods.
Settler slackens and stops. a dozen
stable boys are springing at her head.
Some one snatches the baby from his
arms, and Billy drops down and steals
hurriedly away to quiet corner of
the stables. Settler has lost. His
dreams of making a name for himself
are gone entirely. Mr.. Burnett will
never allow him to ride again. His
heads whirling yet. lie feels deathly
sick. Everything looks black and he
wishes he were dead.
Sinking down on the straw, he bunes
his face and sobs as though his faith
full little heart would break.
"Well, young man."
It is Mr.. Burnett.
Billy does not look up. I'm sorry
[ lost the race, sir" he sobs. 81
couldn't clip it, you know, sir. She'd
"a been killed, sir-the baby"
"Well l should say she would. And
how in heavens name it happened that
you weren't beats me.
I'm sorry, sir, I didn't win"
"Eh? What?-didn't win? Why
boy, I'd rather have my boy to do that
thing than have my horses win dozen
races-yes, a hundred, - adds young
Mr.. Burnett, after computing the mat
ter more carefully.
But the money, sir wot's been
lost?"
Not a cent, except the purse. All
bets on Settler declared off. Come
along up in the stand, now; they are
all bowling for you"