Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1902-07-26


rs that why you put Alan in the BANK
father.
Porter went on as though he had not
heard the daughters query. ITO make
first-class jockey a boy must have nerves
of STEEL the courage of bulldog, the self
controlling honesty of monk. You've got
all these right enough, Allis, only you're a
girl, don't you 'see-just little woman,
and he patted her hand affectionately.
They're off, exclaimed the baritone.
mot this trip" objected the falsetto
1.-THE spurs-the young fiend!' f1ercely
calculated John Porter.
What is 1t, father?'
1.-The boy on Lucretia is jabbing her with
the spurs, and she's cutting up"
That's the fourth false start" said Ned,
the baritone 81 don't think much Of your
Lausanne; he's like a crazy horse:
Allis heard the woman's shrill voice,
smothered to a kissing whisper, answer
something. Two distinct words, the mop,
carried to her ears. There was a long
drawn-out baritone "Oh-h!" then, in the
same key, II knew Lausanne was slug
gard, and couldn't make out why ne was
so frisky today"
Dicks got it down fine just audibiy
from the woman "Lauzanne1l try right
enough this time out.
1.-The mares actin as If she'd had a cup
of tea too" muttered her companion, Ned
This elected a dry chuckle from the wo-
man.
AIlis had pinched her fathers arm again,
and looked up in his face fnqu1r!ngiy, as
from the seat behind them the jumbled con-
versation came to their ears Porter nodoed
his head Understandings and froWned Inc
stephanotis was choking his nostrils, and
an occasional word was filling his heart
with confirmation of his suspicious. .,,.
81 don't like it," he muttered to Aills.
They've had four breaks, and the mares
been left each time. The chestnuts the
worst actor l ever saw at the post But
I'm thinking he'll leave the race right
there, the way he's cutting up
"My God ~ he exclaimed IN the next
breath He had startled the girl with the
fierce emphasis he threw into the words.
She sprang to her feet in excitement.
A bell changed noisily, there was a smut
file of thousands of eager feet; hoarse cry.
They're off, went rolling from tier to
tier. from seat to seat, to the topmost row
of the huge stand.
"Lauzanne is off with a flying lead of
three lengths, and the mare is left abso-
lutely-absolutely last. The boy whipped
her about just as the flag fell" There was
the dreary monotone of crushed nope III
POrter'S voice as he spoke.
Eyes, were out of it, little woman he
continued, and there was almost tone OF
relief, of resignation. Suspense was gone,
realization of the disaster seemed to have
steadied his nerve again. Allis attempted
to speak. but her low voice was hushed to
a whisper by the exultant cries that were
all about them
Didn't l tell you-Lauzanne wins in a
walk the falsetto. voice was an exultant
squeak of hilarious excitement.
You called the turn" Even Ned's bari
tone had risen to false-keyed tenor; he
standing on his toes, peerng over the
heads of taller men in front.
AlliS brushed from her eyes the tears of
sympathy that had welled into them, and,
raising her voice spoke bravely, clingins
to a vain hope "Lucretia is game, father
she may win yet-the race is not lost till
they're past the post
Then her voice died away and she kept
pleading over and over In her heart, Come
T.
rs she gaining, father-can you see?'
She'll never make 1t up, Porter replied
as he watched the tumble of red and yell
low and black, patterned into trailing
banner, which waved and vibrated and
streamed in the glittering sunlight, fur
long down the course-and the tail of it was
mis- own blue. white-starred jacket In
front still a good two lengths in front,
cleaned scarlet, like an evil eye, the all red
of LauZanneS colOrS.
Where is Lucretia, father?' the girl
asked again, stretching her slight figure up
in vain endeavor to see over the shoulders
of those in front.
she had an opening there" Porter re-
piled, speaking his thoughts more than an
swering the girl but the boy pulled her
into the bunch on the rail He doesn't want
to get through. Oh!' he exclaimed, as
though some one had struck him in the
face.
Whats wrong. Has She"
ITS the Minstrel. His boy threw him
fair across Lucretia, and knocked her to her
knees" He lowered his glasses listlessly.
It's Lausanne all the way, If he last out.
He's dying fast, though, and Westleys
gone to the whip
He was looking through his glasses again
Though beaten, his racing blood was up.
IF Lausanne wins it will be Westley's rid
ing; that Hanover colt, The Dutchman is
at his quarter. He'll beat him out, for the
Hanovers are all game"
Come on, you, Lauzanne!' Even the ex-
IA al To to he
harsh. mercenary intensity of the feminine
cry at the back of Allis.
Hes beat!' a deep discordant voice
groaned Il knew he was gutter" The
woman companion was pesSimiStic.
Like trees of a forest, swayed by strong
compelling winds, the people rocked in ex-
element tiptOed and craned eager neckS as
they watched the magnificent struggle that
was drawing to climax in the stretch. Inch
by inch the brave son Of Hanover was
creeping up on Lausanne. How loosely
the big chestnut galloped-rolling like
drunken man in the hour of his distress.
Close pressed to his neck fat over his
wither lay the intense form of his rider
camefs hump-a part of the racing mech
anism, ding the weary horse in the
mastery rightly of his body and legs; but
the arms, even the shoulders of the great
jockey, thrust his mount forward ALWAYS
forward-fOrward at each stride; fairly lift
Ing him. till the very lurches of Lausanne
carried him toward the goal. And at his
over; galloping, galloping with a stout
heart and eager reaching head; stretching
every sinew and muscle and nerve; in his
eye the light that would not be denied
All. gallant little bay. On his back was
the offspring of unthinking parents-a pin
head. Perhaps the evil one had ordained
him to the completion of Langdon's viii
lainy with Lausanne. At the pinch his
judgment had fiown-he was become an in
strument of torture; with whip and spur
he was throwing away the race Each
time he raised his arm and dashed his poor
foolish body swayed in the saddle, and The
Dutchman was checked.
'Oh, II he would but sit stillr' Porter
cried as he watched the equine battle.
The stand mob clamored as though Nero
sat there and lions had been loosed in the
arena. The strange medley of cries smote on
the ears of Allis. How like wild beasts
they WERE how like wolves. She closed her
eyes, for she was weary of the struggle
and listened. Yes, they were wolves. lean
Ing at the throat Of her father and loving
in the defeat of Lucretia. Deep-throated
howls from full-chested wolves: Come on
you, LauZanne! On Wesley on! The bav
wins! The Dutchman-The Dutchman for
a thousa nd"
III take"
CTo be Continued)