Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-01-16

evening, Mother Slap perceived that
the blow had fallen. The midget
was trying to bear up like a man,
but his chin was quivering.
Jaw. l knew 1t all the time, ! did"
he clustered. II don't mind. l was
just kidding, too. / was. Only
only the race falls on my birthday.
II does. / didn't tell you that, but ]
was figurin' the stewards would give
me my license for a present, and If
we'd "a won the old purse. I'd "a
treated everybody, l would. But
Guess Corporal Joe will be dissap-
pointed too He held back the
tears I'm a sport, l am! Some
day I'll get chance.
| & Il
TT was Baltimore Ryan who played
the fairy godfather to this tiny,
masculine Cinderella. Ryan was a
| huge man, with a career as colorful
as the shirts he delighted in wearing.
He had the wealth of Croesus, the
nerve of a burglar and the heart of
a child. In this case, he ran true
to form.
Marty Montgomery, his commits
sioner, told him some things about
Jackie; he learned more from Mother
Slap. and. finally, the big Irishman
got the whole truth from the mud
bug himself.
Ryan grunted thoughtfully and
chewed on an unlighted cigar so
they, little Teller? Well, I'm boss
around here. and we'll just see about
that. l was promised a. bicycle once
| for my birthday, and l never got 1t.
That was 40 years ago, and now I've
got all that money can buy, but it's
too late. I'll never want anything
like I wanted that bicycle. If Brad
| ley promised you mount in the
| Sweepstakes. you'll go to the post, or
my name amt Ryan. Shake on it,
Jaw, gee!' breathed Jackie. Jaw,
gee!" And the look on his face was
sufficient pay for the man from Bal
| timore.
Ryan cinched the matter with the
turf officials. IT'S the first favor I've
ever asked, and you'll grant it or III
withdraw North Star from the race
and quit the game. With me it's
| sport, not a business, and | want this
lad to have his chance"
Presiding Judge WarTen cleared his
| throat No occasion for threats, sub.
| I've had my attention already called
to this particular boy and horse. and
I think / understand the case. L
| honor your sentiment. but / deplore
| your judgment. Corporal Joe wouldn't
| figure one-twoten, even with Sande
up, and If you want to send him out
with a feather in the saddle and 40
pounds of lead, that's your reSponsl-
bility, sub. The entry is admitted and
| the license granted
So there was a Santa Claus, after
all! Mother Slap's mud-bug was go
ing to ride Corporal Joe in the Sweep
stakes.
The youngster was dazed. speech:
less, overwhelmed with the wonder OF
to "Oh, gee"' His staggering brag-
gadocio vanished, and he was only a
| little boy, wide-eyed and grlnning-
shy. embarrassed and suffering from
the preliminary tremors of stage
fright He felt that the whole world
was looking at him.
| The night before the race Balt-
more Ryan sent over a birthday pres
ent 1t was Jackie's apprentice
| license. Nothing could induce the
youngster to keep that present in his
pocket. He held it firmly in one small
hand, where he could feast his eyes
on it and be sure 1t was safe.
Five times that night he turned
on the light. reached under his pillow
| and reread the signed certificate that
| admitted him to the kingdom of man.
0OOQ. ne was dDOut W HidhC IL ihoI
| valiant attempt to go to sleep, when
| he heard the murmur of voices in the
adjoining room. The partition was
very thin, and Gyp Charley's voice
was plainly distinguishable as he
argued with Pony Driscoll. Both
| bows worked for the Greenway
! stables, owners of the imported colt
Rapid Fire. They were discussing
the big race.
II tell you, it's goin' to be a shoe
in" Charley was insisting. They're
| goin' to take this Baltimore guy for
| the works He's dumped too much
dough in the pool rooms, and they've
had to get busy. Rapid Firell run
over the favorite in the stretch.
North Stars due for an easy ride.
Get me?"
Then Pony's voice; How do you
know"
The mud bug, with his ear fiat
| tened to the wall and his small face
white and strained, waited for the
answer
Because Whip Farrell amt gonna
ride against his own dough, that's
why! He's got a five-thousand-dollar
ticket on Rapid Fire, and l know the
guy that give it to him. l could
make a nice piece o. change by tip
nobody. / may be a gyp, but l amt
no snitch."
| YES, that's me too"' Pony agreed.
There amt nobody got any respect
for a stool pigeon. A regular jock
ought to keep his eyes open and his
mouth shut"
boy, you said it, Wen. let's go to
sleep"
Mother Slap's midget lay quite still
for five long minutes. Then he crept
out of bed. Whip Farrell lay in
cot across the room, tossing restlessly
in his sleep. Jackie went through
the pockets of his roommate's
clothes. He found the bookmaker's
slip that confirmed Gyp Charley's
statement. The youngster eXtin-
guished the light and returned to his
cot. His immature mind was unequal
to this problem. He had an over
whelming sense of obligation to Bal
timore Ryan. Yet the words stool
pigeon" "squealer," and "snitch"
/ still sounded in his ears. Whip Far
rel had befriended him, had been his
idol, his pal-the luminary to which
the youngster had hitched the
wagon of his own ambition. Jackie
was old enough to know what a turf
scandal meant, to realize all that was
involved by an eleventh.hour inves-
tigation. Arrests-cross-ex examination
the third degree! Suppose he
couldn't convince them? Nobody
trusted a snitch! Suppose they can
celed his license, too? Suppose it
was all mistake and Whip Farrell
could explain that ticket on Rapid
Fire?
To the Youngsters panic-stricken
mind there appeared but one solu-
ton. Corporal Joe was coupled with
North Star in the betting. If he
could finish in front with the Cor
poral, Ryan's money was safe, and
not even Mother Sian would ever