Thoroughbreds | Page 3

for the prize--a big field, and the pace would be killing. From the West came Sweet Silver, a gray, gallant, and fearless in jumping. A rakish old nag who walked over the sticks, had been sent for the Cup from Kentucky; On a bay, Little Jack, who was fast, they had put but a hundred and thirty. But I knew that North Star, a big brown--even the Black was no gamer- With a pull of ten pounds in the weight, was almost a match for Crusader. We made a brave troop, long-striding and strong, with the pick of cross-country riders, As we filed past the Stand in stately parade, with its thousands of eager admirers, And down to the turn on the lower far side, where a red flag was flicking the sunlight; For twice we must circle the green-swarded field, and finish close under the paddock.
III
Just once we lined up; then down cut the flag, and "Go!" hoarse-voiced the Starter; And the thunder of hoofs, and the clanking of bits, made music to me on Crusader. Quick to the front, like a deer, sped a mare, a chestnut, making the running; But I steadied my mount, and took him far back--with his weight he would need all my nursing. They took the first hedge like sheep in a bunch, bit to bit, and stirrups a-jingle; And so past the Stand to the broad water-jump, where three went down, in a tangle. I trailed at the heels of the Silver Gray--but Crusader was begging for halter And flew the wide ditch with the swoop of a bird, and on again, lapped on his quarter. Then over the Liverpool, racing like mad,--where Sweet Silver fell fighting for lead, And his rider lay crushed, white-faced to the sky; and to miss him Crusader jumped wide.
IV
At the bank something struck, and a cloud of white dust hid the wall as though it were shrouded; But the big gallant Black took off with a swing--full thirty feet ere we had landed. As we rounded the turn I could see Little Jack go up to the mare that was leading; Then I let out a wrap, and quickened my pace, to work clear of those that were tiring. Once again past the Stand we drove at the ditch that some would never get over; And a cheer shook the air as the Bay landed safe; with the mare on her back in the water. Then over went North Star--though he pecked, and nearly emptied his saddle. As I lifted the Black at his heels, he frothed the Brown's flank with his nozzle.
V
Then down the back stretch, o'er hedge and o'er bank, we three were racing together; Till at the next rail the Bay jostled the Brown, and riderless crashed through the timber. So we rounded the turn, and into the straight--North Star's lean flank we were lapping But we shot to the front when I gave the Black head, and I saw that the other was stopping. We raced as one horse at the very last hedge--just a nose in front was Crusader; I felt the big Brown bump twice at my side, and knew he was ready to blunder. With stirrups a-ding, empty-saddled the Bay, stride for stride, galloped and floundered. Just missing his swerve, I called on the Black, and drew out as he bravely responded.
VI
Just the last jump! and Crusader took off twenty feet from the brush-covered timber. Then the Bay jumped--too short for his stride--and fell, with his head on my wither. Down, down! almost to earth,--brought to his knees in the struggle, The Black lost a length, the Brown forged ahead, and I was half out of the saddle. How I sat down and rode! how the old horse strove! and the Brown rolling tired in his gallop. On, gallant Black! on, my brave pet! We were almost under the paddock. Then we nosed the Brown's dank; then we reached to his girt'; neck and neck I rode at his shoulder. As we flashed past the post I had won by a head. How they cheered, "Bravo, Crusader!"
VII
But Crusader stopped short; gave a sigh and fell dead; I stood all alone in the winning. And a hush came over the clamorous mob; like a babe on his neck I was sobbing. He had run his last race; game to the end, his brave heart broke in the striving.
The girl's voice faltered and died away to a broken whisper as she told of the death of Crusader. For a full minute there was a noiseless hush. The full pathos of the gallant horse's striving had crept into the hearts that were flesh and blood; and, carried away by their feelings, the people had forgotten all about their tortured convictions of the