The Washington times., 1901-10-13

going, and he merely flung a splash of
ioam into the air, and trotted on. faster
than ever
Ere! don't you be so fast" said Jack
III amt the Derby. nor even Alexandry
Park; you just go quiet"
stlll they ratified along. needless OF the
traftic which crowded the Strand. and
JACK Meadows. who understood his horse,
and Knew that when he wanted TO go, 4"
pulling at his mouth was worse than use
less, began to grumble at him furiousIy.
Now then, you old l1natic,' he num-
Died, cant you hear what l say? You
go quiet, and keep yourself COOL Blessed
II ever l see such a 'orse. Ere's every
one a-mopping their 'eads with this ere
blessed eat-wave, and you can't take it
sensible. That's right. toss your blessed
cad. It's freezing, that's what 1t is, and
we are a-trying to keep ourselves warm
Go on l wonder you don't want to gallop
That'd please the police. that would"
The words were scarcely out Of his
mouth before the ''Laddie" took the sar-
castle hint. and really did begin to gallop
"a beautiful, swinging gallop it was,
lovely to see, but rather uncanny in a
London hanson and during the heat
wave.
So they swung past the Law Courts.
and people marmured. There goes a rip
ping horse-full of blood" but they didn't
notice the blood in the poor brute's eyes,
nor the queer champiug of his bit. as he
sailed along Flint Street.
For 'Laddie" was far away. The heat
and the fretting had turned his poor, sa-
gacious old head. and he was far away
on the Yorkshire moors, and the hard
paving was sweet green turf. and he-he
was thoroughbred racer, and the Nip
per- was up to ride.
Something Of the sort must have been
in his mind, for the best behaved horse in
London was now going furiously. slam
ming away at racing speed across Lud-
gate Circus.
He'll steady down at the ill' " mur-
INJURED Meadows, hopefully. les a bit
frisky, that's all. Got sort OF 'ump all
along O. the eat. Steady, 'Laddie,'
steady" o.
But 'Laddie" wasn't steady. "Laddie"
was mad, Mad from the dreary, ding
dong life and the hard roads, and stand
ing about, and, above all, the terrible life
sapping heat.
So he took Ludgate hill like a wild
young colt, and tore into St Paurs
(AdA NAAS aiu INT IL lltSAl VI
Luckily, the streets were comparatively
empty. and the ''Laddie," being a gentle
man born. mad or not, knew his work,
and took the corners and swept round the
curves. and lodged the traffic without
knocking a square inch of paint off the
cab.
1t was a grand sight for those who have
an eye for gallop-a thoroughbred York
shire racer pelting through London at full
speed.
To stop seemed to be out of the ques-
tion. Once or twice someone showed a
disposition to interfere, but Meadows yell
ed to him to leave him alone. He knew
well enough an attempt to pull him up
meant a smash
They pounded through the great, gloomy
churchyard, and along Queen Victoria
Street.
Here. at last, the 'L-idie" showed signs
of tiring. He was no longer a colt nefth-
er was he in condition for racing, but he
had dragged a hanson cab all the way
from Charing Cross at such pace as
probably no hanson cab had ever Travelled
through the city of London before.
But his strength was giving out, though
his courage was unquenchable. He lost
his stride and staggered, then pounded
away again. almost as fast as before.
Poor "Laddieir He believed he was rae
ing He heard the shouts of Clear the
way" and the chaff OF the street boys,
and he was doing his Yarkshire best
Again he staggered. and again he bound
ed forward. straining every nerve, every
muscle, determined to go on and reach
the journeys end. Where was he going?
To the bank? Or was it a winning post?
How should he know? And why should
he care?
He was arkshire-Yarkshire run mad,
but doing his best all the time.
Half way up Queen Victoria Street.
nearly opposite the Mansion House sta
ton, there was a man selling newspapers.
He was a round-shouldered. middle-aged
looking youth. with drunkenness. and
and every debasement stamped
on his face, as plainly as if it were q
book
He looked up the street at the approach
ing cab for the shouts had cleared the
way in advance, and as he watched the
horse galloping, reeling plunging along,
his besotted face grew white, and his
thick lips trembled.
Strike met he muttered hoarsely.
Its my horse. 'Yarkshire Laddie, and
he's run Inad!"
Then, as the cab tore past him. he for
got his drunken brawls. and dark, THEY
ing ways. and he, too. was hundreds of
miles away on the Yorkshire moors,
stable boy again, and mounted to ride
and win.
And he put down his newspapers. and
put his small. delicate jockey hands to
his mouth. and yelled;
''I.addie!' he roared- Go ON, Laddie!
Yarkshire wins,"
And the horse heard and knew the
voice. The .Nipper' was there. The little
''Nipper' who rode him 10 the winning
post on that one great day of his life.
So he bounded forward again. with the
well-known voice still ringing in his ears,
and made one great effort to reach the
end of his journey, and stopped not un-
til he suddenly dropped at his destina-
ton a painting quivering. foaming mass.
But almost as soon as he fell the Nip
per- ran NJ.
And he slipped his knee under the small:
well-cut head. and put his arm round
him. holding him tight, and grooming all
kinds of stable talk in a broad Yorkshire
dialect into his poor bleeding ears, until
NJ last the painting ceased, and the slim.
delicate legs shot out straight and stiI.
"Yarkshire Laddie" had done his best
Black and White.