Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1904-02-10

/ And with a sure aim he punched the
bride and flung II TO the juGge.
At the lads first word there had
been connection down there among
the crowd of grooms In the paddock.
| A 1.-THE. black form darted across the
course and made for the outer gate.
| a dozen men seized him at once and
/ then held their breath for the next
move in the play.
| Old Colonel Cantwell, the judge,
stood up and waved for silence.
Bring him another bride. I'll take
care of this one. Now get to the post"
Jim settled In the saddle. Ahead
of him the little flags danced In the
wind and rain. Garrison's Black Ser
aph wheeled into Bareshanks. and at
the end of the line Morgan's Timber
Wolf plunged and reared. Three times
the red flag fell. three times they stray
gled back to the post. Then red down.
yellow down and whir of black. bay
sorrel and gray swept away, nose and
nose. with the rain adrip OF flesh of
scarlet and blaze of gold
"Mudlarkr' "Old Skate!" 1t rang in
his ears on the whistle of the wind.
The first hurdle-Jim felt the long
body gather itself. and they were
over. leaving the Black Seraph balk-
er adrift In the field. Timber Wolf led
by head. There were only four now.
Jim grinned and lurched little for
ward as Bareshanks' great hoofs
gripped the slippery grass. Grants
Derrydown was second, the long stride
of English hunters showing its mettle
from great-grandsire to son, Maxton's
Red Ruin and Longs Wild Irishman
nose and nose with Bareshanks. Up
the slope and over the second hurdle,
the great shoulders working with a
mighty come and go. Bareshanks
forged on. while the Wild Irishman
dropped in a heap to scramble out with
wrenched fore leg. Jim laughed
aloud as they swept the turn The
third-he had studied it well and knew
the rotten bank, where the Timber
Wolf landed, struggled moment and
slid down, his fore legs fighting the air.
They were close together now, Derry
down first by shoulder length, Bare
shanks next, his ugly, lean head
stretched out, with red nostrils wide
aflare, and Red Ruin struggling a sorry
third.
Over-over again. They had made
the round once and for the second time
had passed the first three hurdles.
Bareshanks crept up a few inches on
the home stretch, leaving Red Ruin
dozen yards in the rear. The last hur-
die lay before them, Usage and black
thorn, with an ugly stretch of water
beyond. Jim's tense little hands crept
up closer to the bit as he poured God
knows what prayers and promises into
the two ears that lay to the big, ugly
head. He felt the great muscles stiff
en-, the punching of those awkward
looking legs, the surge of the heart be-
meath the gaunt Misrepresentation
whir-and the sea of faces rose and
surged in the billow of sound as the
bald Roman nose was thrust under the
wire. winner by neck's length.
From the stand above men came
down hand over hand, men poured in
from the pit, and the shrill camor of
excited women's voices shrilled above
! the dull roar of the crowd. Jim slid
I from the saddle and went to the block,
staggering under its weight, his slen-
der body all a-quiver, then back to sit
motionless. enduring. until the moment
| when Bareshanks, swathed in his
shabby blanket stood the center of the
stables attention and envy, and he
awoke and lived again, his arms
around the brown neck, his face buried
in the scanty name. There could be no
question of bullet in the head of the
winner of the Montgomery steeple-
| chase