The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser. (Upper Marlborough, Md.) 1882-1925, 1901-08-30

which haunted him for some minutes,
but in the excitement of the race was
soon forgotten.
They were "given the word' on the
next trial. and away they went in a
bunch. Kitty was well back in the
start, but John did not mind this-he
knew she could "outfoot" them all.
Gradually she drew up on the leader,
then she was at his wheel. Along they
went at terrific rate around the last
turn into the homestretch. John felt
that he had the race, and was prepar-
ing to let Kitty out, when, to his sur
prise, she slackened her pace and threw
her head into the air; this was not like
Kitty, for she had been in many races
and knew as much about racing as
John himself.
The leader drew away from her; the
third horse passed her; then the fourth,
and poor Kitty went slowly under the
wire last of all. Cries of fraud arose
from the spectators, who thought John
was holding her back. When she
slackened her speed John "let her have
her head" knowing that something
was wrong. With an fort she passed
the judges stand and slowly beyond;
but when John turned her preparatory
to returning to the judges stand,
Kitty fell to the ground.
She never moved after she fell.
John, jumping from the sulky, ran to
her head, and saw in her almost human
eyes the same mournful, beseeching
look lie had noticed before the race.
In few minutes she was dead-of
heart disease, they said.
At first John could not believe that
Kitty was dead, but when he realized
the fact tears came into his eyes and
he turned away to hide them. The
crowd dispersed, and the body Of poor,
honest, gentle Kitty was carried to the
stable and deposited in her stall and
the door was locked.
This was the incident that occupied
Jacks thoughts as he sat there in the
twilight. Kitty was dead! She would
never race again!
Wearied 10y the excitement of the
day, John nodded-his head sunk upon
his breast. He fell asleep, and this is
what he dreamed
1t seemed to him that he was sitting
in Kitty's stall and that Kitty put her
nose so close to his check that he could
feel her warm breath, and said:
Don't you know me, Jack? l am
better off than was before, for l can
talk to you now. You have always
been kind to me, Jack, and l want to
thank you. We were great friends,
weren't we, Jack? My mother told
me how good end kind you were to
her. | have always served you faith
fully, Jack. never refused to do
anything you asked, Jack. l always
did the best could, Jack" And then
she rubbed Ler lose gently up and
down his cheek. IL was sick when
the boys were hitching me up to-day,
but l couldn't tell you. 1t wasn't
your fault, Jack, l know that. Be as
good and kind to all my old flicn,l>,
and companions as you have been to
me, won't you, Jack? If they could
only talk as can now, they could tell
you how they feel. But they must
race whether they feel well or not.
Goood-by, Jack, good-by."
The next morning John was at the
stable early, with calm, serious face,
and gave directions for the disposal of
Kitty's body. After it had been
buried, he called Bill and the colored
boy Jim, and said:
"Boys, I've drove my last race.
I've drove my last race, boys. I've
drove my last race"
John spoke truly, for never after
that would money tempt him to take
part in another horse race William
E. White, IN Our Dumb animals.