Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-07-29

It is not often In these days OF scientific
dope sheets, never-sleeping rail birds and
checkers. and bookmakers with an ace in
the hole. that a 800 to / thing gets by.
Arctic. an unconsidered two-year-oId. did
that at one of the New York tracks the
other day.
After the race Areite's owner, a horse
man in such chronic hard luck that IL he
saw the rainbow of prosperity only twenty
yards away he wouldn't be able to blow
piece out of 1t with sawed-on shotgun
loaded with slugs, crawled off into dark
corner of the paddock when his baby
horses number went up. Some friends
found him gibbering there, and making
strange. clutching motions with his hands
at his hair, about half an hour after the
race.
Die go to it. old man they asked
him.
Unmindful of their presence, the owner
of Arctic went on muttering things that
weren't English at ALL but sounded like
mufied Zambesi.
Die get 300 to ~ his friends pursued.
I'VE did. for little piece
Arcite's owner gazed at them pfteously,
and, without word turned his back on
them and skunk away like something that
had been whipped.
The answer: Arctic's owner had bet 81 90
of his slender hoard on the favorite in
that race which his baby Arctic had won.
The favorite's price was 3 to 5, and he'd
stood to win $50 if the favorite had con-
nected. Then his own colt, at 500 to l.,
opening odds, had streaked home in front
OF the favorite, when his owner, only en-
tering Arctic in the race for experience
and seasoning had confidently looked for
him to be beaten off. The 500 on his own
colt at 900 to 1 would have--howeyer,
these would haves'' don't get the turf fol-
lower anything. The wonder is not great,
= 49, 1<,-
himself and gibbered. The brutal part Of
1t was that whole lot of low foreheads
around the ring had taken that top 800 to
price for little iunky lots on pure hunch
A waiter in a beefsteak bill efght-cents-a-
meal grub honkatonk on the Bowery had
bet $40 velvet money, straight, on Arctic
at the long price, and at least two dozen
unkempt ones in the cheap field betting
ring had stuffed in 81 and SIS notes on the
winning rancid outsider at the top cssalk.
In fact. the pikers had knocked Areite's
price down to 100 to at post time. The
last report had of him states that Arcite's
owner is still talking weirdly to himself
and that the language he uses toward him.
self is unfit for publication.
*
But there wasn't anything exceptional
In the case of the owner of Arctic. Turf
history simply reeks with incidents in
which owners and trainers have failed
the prices were long.
Ex-Representative Big Tim Sullivan was
the most disguised man In the western
hemisphere one afternoon at Benning
few years ago.
And it wasn't because one of the famous
Sullivan -slaughterings didn't go
through on that occasion. The Sullivan
pipeskies and good things have frequently
gene wrong without the "big Teller" as his
Bowery constituents know him, showing
the least evidences of a crouch.
But Mr.. Sullivan was grabbed so to
speak, on this afternoon by one of his own
horses, and a horse, at that, that he would
have given away before the race to any
friend who'd have asked for him.
Big Tim bet 81 600 on good thing In this
race, and then his own horse, wholly
ridiculous and out-of-the-questfon mutt
named Ociawaha, came pounding along In
the stretch and won the race on the bit,
with his boy looking back and laughing.
Oclawaha's price that afternoon was 100 to
l. or any other old thing that you cared 10
ask your bookmaker to let you have.
Oclawaha had been running like Kitchen
range trying to do a skirt dance, hence the
Write-your- own-ticket chalk against him.
Big Tins jaw fell so that he came peril
ously close to never getting his mouth
closed again when he saw his big Indian
named plug clomp down the stretch ana