The Van Buren press. [volume] (Van Buren, Ark.) 1859-1914, 1897-07-17

the yirginian was still leading. There
was yet a chance that some accident
might befall Hurst and give Rosser the
race. and the kentuekian WAS holding
on with that hope. But Toms tune now
changed. and he screamed:
"R-u-n. Mars LoYickl Rum run
run. Hes gwine TO beat you ef you
don't run hard"
lie besought the Lord to give Loviek
the race. he boosted that Ioviek could
win too easy to talk about, and implored
Loyiek to run harder. all in the same
breath. Many of the bystanders said
that they had never heard a man hold
out so long in ST n high, loud tone.
The young master heard il and strained
every nerve. 1t seemed 10 him that he
must win somehow, for the poor
negro's sake. But the trained skill OF
the other man triumphed, and he was
declared the victor.
Tom wrapped Loviek in an oyercoat
and helped him into the buggy. As he
was about to drive homeward. Hurst
came TO the side of the vehicle and said.
"Mr. Rosser, you made me run harder
than | ever want to run again. II you
had had a months training could not
have beaten You. But what is the mat
ter with your man? He is splitting
blood!"
Lovick glanced toward Tom. Every
moment the negro was splitting q
mouthful of blood.
whats the matter, Tom?' was
Loviek's excited query.
81 hurt myself hollerin'." came in a
whisper. His shouting had brought on
hemorrhage.
Here, DIR. Gwartneyl This way
quick Something is wrong with my
servant"
The physician, after glance, said;
at is a hemorrhage of the lungs.
Who would have thought such strong
looking man had weak lungs! Get him
TO bed Immediately, Mr.. Rosser."
I.ovick took the reins and drove rap
idly TO neighboring negro quarters
The doctor followed, and after a brief
examination said he could do nothing
for the man, and that he would have to
die. Utterly dismayed, Loyick sank
upon his knees and cried:
"Oh! Tom, my best, my kindest
friend, do not die and leave me. Oh.
why did | consent TO run? Say that
you forgive me for numbering you,
Tom, or | shall go Wild"
The dying slave turned TO his mas
ter and said:
MARS Loyick. you hain't murdered
me: please take dat back before | die,
for it seems like ] can't die easy wild
a feelin' dat way. Take it back, Mars
Loviek."
"All-right-Tom, take it-back,"
came in choked sobs from Lovick, as
crimson stream burst from Toms lips.
Aftera moment Tom could speak again:
mo, Mars Loyick, it's all my fault
You wouldn't run eff it hadn't ben
for me. But don't you worry for me,
marster. It wouldn't be like livin' 10
b'long to anyone else, an sence you've
lost de race I'd RAIDER go dan not"
"A Hoit Nlolthl uClllDi tndH tNCl
here set in. The doctor forbade any
more conversation, but when he could
speak again, Tom resumed:
81 can't save mysef by bein' quiet, an
I've got some things l must say to my
marster before | go. Mars Lovick,
you've got anudder race to run. De
prize amt thousand dollars, but it's
crown of glory. / begged you to run
dis race to-day, an now | want you to
run de big, long race an git de big prize.
win you run, Mars Lovick ?"
"Yes, Tom, I'll run"
The coughing and hemorrhage oc-
Cured almost uninterruptedly now,
and his strength failed with alarming
rapidity. After an hour the slave
searched nervously about for the mas
ter's hand. He got ii in one of his, and
with his expiring ounce of strength
bore that loved hand to his lips. He
smiled then, and MS Lovicl bent low over
him he said:
"Good-by, Mars Lovick. Run-hard
-an'-gi t-de-bi g-prize. y Chautau-
guam.