Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1902-09-20

and blue, and white and magpie-passed
through the paddock gate to the newly
smoothed course Very modest and de-
mure No. I, the little brown mare, looked
beside the strong muscled giants, bright
bay, golden chestnut and raven-wing bla elk
that overshadowed her in the procession
that caught the 10000 pairs Of eyes. Some
thing of this thought came to Allis sitting
in the stand. What a frail little pair they
were, both of them, and to be there bat
Ting for this rich prize that was hard
ly fought for by strong men athirst for
gold, and great horses akeen for the gallop
All, there was Diablo; the very number
Allis had said carried no dread for her, 10.
What a strange coincidence. What a cruel
twist of fate it would be if he We're to win;
he looked equal to it. A man sitting at AL
lis elbow suddenly cried in a voice en-
Unused into the joyous treble of boys:
Look at that big black; isn't he beaut?
S feet" IKE 1t enough 10 give packer colo
II thought you weren't superstitious,
Rex'-this was a woman'S voice.
I'm not, an I'm going straight down to
back that black, 10 and all
On Allis other side one of the party was
ticking off the horses by their numbers as
they passed, "One, two, that's White Moth,
they say she'll win; three, Red Rover;
four-what's that? that's George L.; five,
six, seven-just look at that little runt.
What is it? Oh, Lucretia. Might well
run big calf, 1 should think"
She's just lovely" declared a lady in
the party She's as graceful as a deer
and I'm sure she'll run as fast as any of
them
Cant live in that mob; they'll smother
little thing like her." declared the man
emphat ically. Where are we-10, II, the
King, that's the winner for hundred
Look at him. He carries my money. It's
all over now; they can't beat him. That s
a fine locker, though, ID. Diablo, Ell?
What's that horse, Diablo, George?' turn
ing to one of the men.
''NO gOOd-a maiden: / looked them all I'D
in the dope book: how they expect to win
the Brooklyn with maiden gets beyond
me-"
Somewhat tortured, Allis listened to the
voluble man on her left, who was short
and fat and red of face, as he graded with
egotistical self-sufficiency the eighteen
competitors for the big handicap. Lucretia
he had passed over in disdain. Crude as
his judgment seemed, arrogantly insult
ficient, it affected her disagreeably. Now
that everything had been done, that the
last death wait was on, she was depressed
The exhilaration of preparation had gone
from her, and the words of the captious
man on her left, that little runt," hung
with persistent heaviness on her soul. All
the vast theater of the stand was buzz of
eager chatter. Verify, 1t was a race; 1t
was the Brooklyn handicap. Lips that
smiled gave hooking lie to drawn. strain
ed faces and nervous, shifting eyes, that
told of the acceptance of too deep hazard.
The weeks and months of mental specula-
ton embodied in heavy bets would have
their fruit ripened and plucked within
brief half hour.
Allis' eyes dropped to the grass lawn in
front of the stand for minute seeking re-
pose from the strain of watching the horses
as they went down to the starting post
How fretfuly erratic were the men who
dotted it's green sward with gray and SOL
emn black! The deeper interest Alls had
over there on the course where was the
little mare seemed to lift her to a great
height above them. How like ants they
were, crossing and recrossing each others