The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1902-09-29
Luck I'M GIFT n0RsEs-
A SPORT CLEANED UP NEARLY $4,000 WITH DE-
eELDINe-FoR MER OWNERS cHAeRN.
Never look a gift horse in the mouth

Never look gift horse in the mouth
race him." remarked a veteran turf
man to his group the other night, when
the talk veered around to the subject
of gift horses and their tantilizing hab-
it of wiLS.ing races after they've been
given away by Disguised owners, says
the Saratoga IN. " correspondent of
the New York Sun.
"Pd have to ransack my old head to
think Of gift horse that hasn't
pranced out and won a race or so for
his new master after having beera
passed UP for f1rkin of tallow by his
previous owner. There's no way Of
accounting for it. Maybe its the change
in the brand Of oats. Maybe it's the sift
in the training methods. Maybe it's be-
cause the horse usually finds himself
after having been chucked on the
dumps Maybe It's a little bit Of all
these things. think it's pure cussed-
ness, mingled with pride, and desire
to get hunk with the old owner, on the
part of the gift horse.
eff I cared to mention his name you
would all know an excitable st. Louis
owner who gave a horse away on the
ST. Louis fair grounds track three
years ago. The animal was a three
year-old gelding and he had never won
a race. He'd been beautiful purple
topped morning glory as a two-year-
old, breaking the hearts Of good aged
work horses in his dawn gallops. But
when it came to racing in the after
noon he was cheese sandwich on the
pie counter Of a jerkwater railroad
station.
"He was a loafer and rogue when
he paraded to the post, and he would
not so much as try to displace clod
when the real test came. On the
strength of his work the owner bet on
him time and time again when he was
a -year-old, but the brute, after
frequently fattering his oats-feeder by
going out to spread-eagle 'em, would
invariably look for the hole in the
fence when it came right down to the
pinch, and would wind up in the ruck.
1.-THE excitable owner was frequently
| tempted to try and sell the gelding or
send him to the grease factory after
those sorrowful performances Of the
horse as a two-year-old, but he hung
on to him in the hopes that he would
take tumble to himself and pay for
his feed and keep when he got to three
years. But the rogue executed exactly
the same stunts from the beginning
Of his three-year-old racing career.
He'd sizzle the track for the morning
checkers and run like a stringhalted
| owner was to the bad way UP In the
four figures on him.
'"Then he concluded that he'd been
racing the gelding at too long distances
that the animal was only fit for the
shortest kind Of sprints. So he got a
bolo edge on the gelding for the short
dashes and tried him out in work.
The brute did the five furlongs one
morning in a minute and a second on
the bit and the owner doped it out
that at last he was going to drill his
plug through at least bit of the mon
ey he had lost on him. So he stuffed
him into a five-furlong sprint for
three-year- old that ought all Of them
to be in the United. States cavalry, and
took five to one to win for a pat $1,000
on his gelding.
'"The gelding led by fifteen lengths
into the stretch. Then he began to act
like he'd dropped or forgotten some
thing in the early part of the route.
He pricked his ears and Swished his tail
like a yearling looking over rail fence
and then he dropped back into the
bunch like a hand-car slowing up to
make sharp curve on a narrow gauge
road. He was beaten about three days
and half.
His excitable owner was waiting at
the paddock gate for the stable hand
to lead the rogue through to the barn.
His face was as mottled and red with
wrath as an old-fashioned moss-gate,
and the nearer the mutt drew TO the
gate the madden the owner became.
"'Jim,' he roared to the stable hand
leading the gelding, don't you take the