Waterbury evening Democrat., 1904-02-08

Hes a good enough locker, ain't her" commented Dixon, as he went into the stall and turned the horse about. He's the picture of his old sire, Laz- zarone, an d--d sight bigger rogue. Lazzarone won the Suburban with blinkers on his head, bandages on his legs, an God knows what In his stomach. He was second in the Brooklyn that same year. I've always heard he was mule, an guess this one got it all, an none of the gallopin'.'' r-..+
 How does he work with the others?" queried Porter.
 Runs bit, an then cuts it-won't try a yard. Of course, he's sick from the dope, an the others are bit fast for him. If we put him in sellin' race, cheap, he'd have a light weight, an might do better a
 Porter walked on to Lucretia's stall, and the trainer continued in a mono logue to Lauzanne: You big slobi You're counterfeit If there ever was one. But I'll stand you a drink just to get rid of you; I'll put bottle of whisky inside your vest day after tomorrow, an if you win p'raps somebody'll buy you"
 Luzanne did not answer-it's a way horses have. It Is doubtful if his mind quite grasped the situation, even. That neither Dixon, nor Langdon, nor the jockey boys understood him he knew not clearly, but approximately enough to increase his stubbornness, to rouse his resentment. They had not even studied out the pathology of his descent sufficiently well to give him fair show, to train him inteligently. They re- membered that his sire, LaZzarone, had bad temper, but they forgot that he was stayer, not given to sprinting.
 Lauzanne knew what had come to him of genealogy, not in his mind so much as in his muscles. They were strong. but sluggish, not active, but non-tiring. Langdon had raced Lauzanne with sprinting colts, and when they ran away from him at the start he had been un- equal to the task of overhauling them in the short two-year-old run of half mile. Then the wise man had said that Lauzanne's courage was at fault; the jockeys had called it laziness, and applied the whip. And out of all this uselessness the colt had come with a soured temper, a broken belief in his masters.
 Porter's trust that his i'll luck had been changed by win was a faith of short life, for Diablo was most emphat-. fcally beaten in his race.
 And then came the day of forlorn hope, the day of Lauzanne's disgrace, inasmuch as it de-graduated him into the selilng-plater class.
 Bad horse as Langdon knew Lau- zanne to be, it occurred to him that Por- ter had planned a clever coup. He had an interview with Crane over the sub- ject, but his master did not at all share the trainers belief.
 But after Lang6 had left Cranes thoughts dwelt on the subject they had just discussed. g{ afH9eea musee fhe PuDIic vii rsasoh 1us as Langdon does. And whats bad for the packers is good for the players; I must see Faust"
 You had better make a book to beat Lauzanne," Crane said to Jakey Faust, just before business had commenced in the ring that afternoon.
 Lne C0eTuD SLareQ 1n aSLOn1SnmeuL.
 ''You don't own him now, do you sir? ?A he blurted out, with minimizing can- dor.
 'T do not"
 He's dropped into soft spot-he rates best in the percentage card"
 Figures sometimes lie," commented Crane. \
 Every handicapper tips him to win"
 They're all broke because of their knowledge"
 ''The books'll mark him up first choice'
 That's why 1t will be worth while playing the field to beat him.
 He's in with gang of nuts to-day, an he beat some cracker jacks last time out"
 You were hypnotized that day, MT. Faust; so was the judge. Lauzanne didn't beat anything"
 Didn't beat-what the h-l-didnt the chestnut get the verdict?"
 "He did, but" and Crane looked at Faust, with patient toleration of his lack of perception.