Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1910-05-05
LORRIE

!
excitement is so great that a sudde
hush falls upon the crowd, and i
: this first strange quietude the tw
horses approach the jump.
Lore Guy is nearest the railA He
as calm as a millpond, and sits i
the saddle as lightly and easily as
ne were in his armchair. The ham
that guides and controls his furiou
horse is as steady as a rock, and We
is as light of pressure as a feather
Before him rises the big fence wit
! the cold silver stretch of water be
hind. With a glance he takes it
measurement and touches Gypsy
quiv aring shoulder with his whip.
Lorrie sees the horse gather itsel
together, and holds her breath. A
that moment, why she knows not, he
attention is attracted by man in the
crowd near the jump, who has
climbed upon. the rail, and who sud
denly whips a pocket handkerchie
from his pocket and with yell tina
NAV be a cheer or may not, waves the
sheet of white wildly in the air.
Lord Guy sees it and uses the spurs
to keep Gypsy straight, but the vel
and the flash Of white almost before
his eyes are too much for the merry
ous highly-strung horse. With
culver he swerves aside as he rises
and the next moment, though he clears
the fence, falls into the ditch on the
other side.
"Gipsy's down. The favorite's
down." scream the betting men. 1.-THE
Irish horse wins!"
From her perch Lorrie has seen 1t
all For a second she stands motion
less, and white as a snowdrop, then
she lets her hands fall upon Gretas
shoulders just beneath her, and grasps
them tightly.
What Is it that has come over her?
| Is she going to faint? The course, the
| swaying multitude swim before her
eyes as if in a mist, the roar sounds
dull, muffled in her ears, and her eyes,
strained upon the spot on which
Gypsy has fallen, grown burning hot.
Greta feels the tight grasp of the
little hands, and turns to her with a
shock of surprise and dismay as she
sees the white face.
"Lorrie! Don't be frightened! Lor-
RE! Lorrie!"
Lorrie's Iips-not red as the cherry
now, but pale as death-move, but no
sound comes for a moment, then a
whisper of horror leaves them.
He is killed! He is killed."
Hush! Hush! For heavens sake,
dear. He is not killed! Look"
Where? Where?"
I Then she sees strange sight. Who
says that there is no pluck left in the
modern generation of Englishmen
Half stunned, wet from head to foot
his gay jacket stained and torn, Lord
Kendale is seen staggering toward his
horse, which stands wet and tremb-
ling beside the ditch.
Is he going to attempt to remount?
| At the mere suspicion the crowd
surges to and fro with wild excitement
which eliminates in a roar as Lord
Guy springs into the saddle, and, rid
ing as if for life, urges his horse in
pursuit of his rival.
His whip is in the ditch, but Gypsy
does not seem to need it. AS if he
knew that his reputation, his equine
credit, depended upon a supreme, gil
gantic effort, he dashes along. They
are on the fiat now, and speed, sheer
speed, will win. But what start the
Irish horse has got! Nothing short of
miracle can enable his pursuer to
gain upon him. But there is Arab
blood in thc slight-looking Gypsy, the
blood that will not let it's possessor
know when it is beaten, will not give
up till all is over and the post is
passed, though death is the result.
With distended nostrils and blazing
eyes, Gypsy strains every nerve; inch
by inch he gains upon his opponent.
Inch by inch and now foot by foot, he
| lessons the distance. Thud, thud, sound
the flying hoofs. The crowd, standing
awestruck at the spectacle of such
pluck and resolution, is silent as the
grave. Not man cheers, not man
moves. White as death, Seymour Mel.
| ford stands with the field glasses
pressed against his eyes. He cannot
see for the furious rage which shakes
him. Yard by yard the wet, mud
stained horse is gaining still. In an
other moment it is abreast of the Irish
horse, in another it leads. Then the
crowd finds its tongue, and "Gipsy
wins! Gypsy wins yeti" rises from al
sides. Three seconds more and Lore
Guy is seen to bend forward ani
touch the hot, steaming neck with his
hand. 1t is the final appeal, and Gipsy
answers it. Like an arrow from the
bow, he rushes forward, and, leavins
his opponent dozen yards behind
passes the post. A cheer, such as onl,
English Threats can produce, goes up
men toss their hats in the air, wo
men wave their handkerchiefs and rae,
cards, and in the midst of the uproal
the victor comes cantering down tn,
course. Opposite the grand stand h,
dismounts from the saddle, but be
fore he can reach the ground a mob
which has broken through the Gordon
OF police, surrounds him, shouting an,
cheering. Someone helps him and in
. sisss upon his shaking hands wit
them. Smiling with his usual care
IS good nature, Lord Guy escape
at last, and makes-not for the gran