Evening Star Newspaper, September 30, 1923, Page 76

The for His Honesty, But Vi Was Finally Won By a Friend. AVE you called a doctor?” the Feedbox Fool asked his sister-in-law, Jenny Hall. “Yes, and he's been here and gone.” “What does he say?” The Feedbox Fool lowered his voice so that his brother, little Johnny Hall, in bed in the next room, might not hear. “Pneumonta,” Jenny said, in a half whigper. “And maybe typhold too.” shi" muttered, Feedbox, “we'll have to be sure this doctor knows his stuff. T'll get a nurse.” you will not,” said the girl, posi- tively. “T'll take care of him myself. Feedbox stared at her in. amaze: ment. “But it's a twenty-four hour job, said Feedbox. “And, besides X “Makes no difference,” she declared.’ “And, besides,” Feedbox continued, “we've got to have a trained nurse. But the first thing is to get the doctor backhere.” “I suppose you know these things cost money,” ‘complained Jenny, bit- terly. “And we're not millionaires. I want to take care of Johnny, and I've got to.” 113 } ] Jockey:Had Been Punished ctory clean up?” she retorted. “Why not keep the money?”" “AW, what's the use of the dough?” he asked, sheepishly. He had never His position crumbled. The whole works quit on him. Blew. “HOW many tips do you sell and for how much every day?" Jenny Hall pursued, relentlessly. “Oh, all the way from one to half a dozen, once to a dozen times apiece, five to ten berrigs a throw mitted. “I reckon I drag in seventy- five or a hundred igon men on a fair afternoon. e “If it was sgeventy-five and you kept it six days a week you'd be making $460 a week,” Jenny Hall ‘pointed out. “Do you know anybody who makes as much The Feedbox Fool fumbled for an answer, but found none. But he could not get the idea out of his head. On the train bound for Baltimore he thought it over and resolved-to give | Jenny's idea a try. The Feedbox'Fool became a mili- the He cents of worry about Feedbox, alrily. nd some odd “I'll take care W should dough,” retored had nine doll in his pocket that.” He. went softly into the hedroow | to see the boy, but came out again in 2 moment. Johnny Hall was out of | h d. Feedbox found Jenny Hall in the kitchenette trying to improvise an ice pack. “I'm going out to find that doctor and see about a nurse,” he said. “Never mind about the nurse,” she replied, dully. “But befors you go, @0 you know what could have given Johnmy that terrible cold?” “Why, hasn't he said anything?” “Only when he was out of his mind. All he has been saying for the last three hours is that he wouldn't do it. Keeps repeating it,” she said. “What was it?” Feedbox dcringl “Don’t he about his work?" She shook her head. “Well, he able,” said Feed- box slowly. des, or did, for Willoughby Tobin. Made good, see? Tobin tells him yesterday to lay back with a horse of his that's a runnin’ fool. Pull him, he Y 8. Muddy | track, cold, and raining. The kid hates to pull the goat. and don't pull him very hard. Nobody else that can win wants to, and half 4 duzeni hounds slides all over The track inj the streteh tryln’ to keep from get- | * to the wire first, see? The kid's horse finally wins, but it looks. bad. Terrible. The crowd squawks, and the judges send for three of the jocks. The kid says Tobin tells him | to pull, and he won't, see® So they send for Tobin. But Tobin talked ‘em out of it, and they fined the ki “Mr. Tobin ought to be shot,” said | Jenny Hall, calmly. “But what I} asked you was, how did Jolinny catch this cold?” “I'm tellin’ you continued the Feedbox Fool. “The judges kept him up there in that windy, raw stand, soakin’ wet, with nothin’ on but his ridin’ silks. T told him to get him | some liguor, steam-up and go to be “He wouldn't do it” commented Jenny Hall. “He thought I wouldn't like for him to use the whisky. Said he'd be all right. And now-—but T've| &0t to try to break up his fever. The | doctor =aid an ice pagk would help.” “If there's nothing T can do.” the Feedbox Fool sald, helplessiy. “I'll g see the doc and get a nurse. Be back this cvening.” ' He hunted up the physician and! fmpressed him bravely with the} necessity of doing everything pos- | sible and demanded a good nurse. Back agaln at the apartment tha evening, the Feedbox Fool was un-| able to hide Yis depression. Might as well tell you the news,” | he sald grudgingly when Jenny had a free moment. “But don’t say any-| thing to the kid." 1 stiil Wouldn't looked at the girl won- ever tell you anything | “Johnny’s plied. thing. “Well, this Tobin went before the| stewards today and had the kid set| down, and his license took away fro hi: and him barred from the track.” Why, he couldn't do that” she protested. “But he did. The kid's d Feedbox declared laconically. * k¥ % | OLLOWED a long, hard pull for| Johnny Hall, bis small wife Jenny, and the Feedbox Fool. Pneu- smonia paved the way to a more seri- ous struggle with typhoid, and it was six months before Johnny Hall was on his feet again. The Feedbox Fool worked earlier and later to gather in{ money. But at the end of the first | month he had to leave town to ply his_trade, because the ponies moved to Louisville. Then he followed the runners to Fort Erlg, and stayed a month, send- ing money orders to Jenny every week. . Back from Fort Erie for a few days before an excursion to the Maryland tracks, Feedbox made sure everything was all right. “What's the doc say?” he asked Jenny, after a visit with the boy. “Nothing,” she replied evasively. How come? When was he here last?” Feedbox demanded. “About three weeks ago,” said Jenny. “I told him not to come un- less T sent for him. No use for us to £0°on throwing away money that's not ours,” she continued deflantly. “And that's not all. T've been talking to Johnny about your business, and T've found out all about it.” “Yeah?" querled the Feedbox Fool. “That's morey I've found out in fifteen years.” “Well. I've found out one thing,” she flashed. *You must be crazy. You provide information about horses and get monmey for it—isn't that right?” b “Yeah, that's a hot way to put it,” Feedbox grinned. “Then you take that money and turn right around and gamble with it, and, more than likely, lose it. Isn't that right?” she demanded per- sistently. “Sure, but what's the use of bein’ inside If you don't take advantage of it?” he countered. “What's the good of hunches if you don’t play 'em?” “Let the other fellows play them,” she satd. ” ; The Feedbox Fool could only pause in his argument with his mouth open 0 try to fathom this idea. “Every guy that ever cleaned up did it that way,” he protested weakly. delirious,” she re- understand any- | one,” . i ut how many of them did uot | under the Appleton colors, in the| NN ! Feedbox declared, {wrought up tant crusader in search of money. His takings ranged from $30 to $150 | a dzy. And hp bet not a cent, even on the best of the good things peddled This crazy huiich of Jenny's made him a better picker. It made him more careful in selling the ponies he picked. Prosperity overtook him. He sent money orders to Jenny Hall, ostensibly for Johnny's support and ‘her own, but in reality because he dldn’t-know what else to do with the money. Then, long before he left the Mary- land tracks for the fall campaign in Kentucky, Jenny wrote him a letter, saying that she had saved the money and had plenty to take care of Johnny for some time to come. Johnny was better, and in a few weeks more would be looking for a job, provided he didn’t have a set- back. " % % * HE Feedbox Fool pocketed his money until he couldn’t very well carry it any longer, and then ! e bought Sweet Lady, a handsome, undersized bay mare, nine years old She lost three gaces in a row for Im and got show money out of a | fourth. She developed sore feet and | | had to be laid up. When he pulled | out of Maryland for home early in the fall, leaving Sweet Lady to be shipped with his friend Tom Apple- | ton's stable to Kentucky, the Feed- | box Fool was flat again. The sensa- tion was more natural than comfort- able. Jenny Hall met him at the door of | the flat. “He's down again” she said. blue eyes, but lines framed her mouth and s. “He went out to look for a job. Found one in the shipping Toom ‘of the Crescent Corporation, in- | doors. Then the Crescent—-" “That's one of Tobin's companies, Feedbox interrupted. “But it wouldn't make any difference. “Except it did,” said Jenny. can talk to Johnny in a minute. Doc- tor's in there now. This Mr. Tobin came through the plant on an inspec- tion trip and saw Johnny at work. Working hard, he was. veating, he sald. Tobin stopped, and ordered Johnny put out. I guess Johnny must have talked back, because Mr. Tobin gave him a shove and knocked him down. That didn't hurt him—" “That guy’'s gonna get killed, under his breath. trouble got him so he's had a relapse. Coughing and has fever again.” The doctor came out of the bed- room and closed the door behind him. In a few words he explained that the boy was in the early stages of the white plague. Complete rest, freedom from worry, g0od alr, good food, he said, would combine to help him. California, and keep him outdoors, after he had regained some strength “Oh, “But the sure, sure,” said the Feedbox Fool. He had not told Jenny Hall he was broke. “But you'll look after him until he's over this setback right now, won't you, doc? When he's bet- ter, we'll take him to the coast. See?” Things broke badly for the Feed- box Fool. Johnny hovered on the verge of a serious, final illness. Jenny’'s strengti ebbed, although Feedbox found a nurse to do most of the work. He moved his hat and suit case to the flat, and slept, sit- ting up, In the lving-dining room. At midnight he woke and relieved the nurse, who napped until 3, when Feed- | box took his departure for the track to watch the early workouts. His tips began to go' good and his customers | plied him hard. The takings grew again. “Here's where we start bullding our stakes for California,” he said, airily, to Jenny Hall in Johnny’g room. “All bills paid except Sweet Lady's feed biIL” o “Whatcha gonna do with 'at mare?” asked Johuny, wanly. “I'm gonna start her in a race one of these days” Feedbox declared, “and give her one more chance to earn her oats. After that if I can't do anything else with her you and I and Jenny, there, will.climb on her back and start for California. Al- though,” he added, with a twinkle in' his eye, “you oughtn’t ride even a bad horse to death.” * Kk % ok HE Feedbox Fool had an exercisé voy working Sweet Lady, and she responded to training. Her feet were still sore; but the Fool noticed that after going gingerly for three- quarters she pounded the soreness out and sprinted the last quarter like a Runnymede. Two weeks later, flush, though zealously guarding his funds, he decided to start the mare. ‘When the stewards turned down his application for an owner’s license be- cause of objection on the part of Willoughby his pride was hurt. “What's the matter?” he demandeéd, aggrievedly, of Appleton, who had vouched for him. “Ain't I been on the level? ‘Ain’t I been around this track fifteen years, with never a squawk against me? If I'd pulled the stuff this Tobin pulled I'd never yip. And him kickin’, hey?” Appleton admitted his informatios was to that effect. “Well, all I've got to say is I'll get that bird—get him good,” declared the Feedbox Fool. He asked Apple- ton to enter Sweet Lady'for him v n thought of his game as a business. | Courage showed in her strong | “You | If they could take him to | THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. ©, & | | | | | i i niile-and-a-half race he had in mind Before he could take off his h that evening Jenny Hall handed hin a slip of paper. The landlords foun: it necessary to incregse the rent wir requested the tenant to call at ti company office immediately to make adjustments. ' There was time to reach the office | before it closed, so the Feedbox Fool went out again. When he returned Feedbox boiled with a bitter, resent- ful rage. 5 “What did they do “Raise the rent mue! G “Oh, not a whole lot,” sald Feedbox. “But say, Johnny, I wish you could come out to’'the track and see this mare of mine run. She's—" “How much did they raise the rent?” | Jenny demanded. “Not much,” Feedbox lied. | mare Is a bird" . “Hope she loses” said Johnny “unless old man Tobin has se in there with her. Like to ©eo her beat him te death. But you can't afford a horse. “I can afford anything,” declared |the Feedbox Fool, with a flourish- ling gesture. Next morning at daybreak the | Feedbox Fool was at the track. The} first man he saw was Tom Appleton. “News for vou,” Appleton said.! {“Put in your mare for that race and | {found "your old friend is starting one | in it 3 ; “Tobin? What's he startin'?" asked | the Feedbox Fool, suddenly alert. “Big black hoss.” “Calls him Nitromite," | commented. | “Wants to ready him for the big handicap and counts on winnin’ this race in a walk,” sald Appleton, com- “That's him | i | asked Jenny. “This Feedbox {pleting his explanation, {now.” | Feedbox reached for his watch as| {Nitromite pounded past them. timed the horse by quarters for the full mile. When the boy took his{ mount off the track Feedbox put up his watch. “Way he always runs” Feedbox | told himself. “A runaway the first three-quarters and has to be pushed the rest of the way.” “Here comes our little mare,” sald Applefon aloud. “I told the boy to glive her the full mile @nd a half, and to let her run all the way. Tonfor- row Il have him do the same and next morning give her a gallop.” “Yeah,” assented the Feedbox Fool. “Save her feet. I getcha.” Sweet Lady did her work nicely under the Fool's clocking. Soreness| that was evident at the start seemed | | to bother her not at all as ghe fin- ished. “Reg’lar runnin’ foBl,” ob- served Feedbox. “Ever gét them sore feet cured up she'd give anybody’s hoss a rin agreed Tom Appleton. “Any dis- tance, for money, marbles or chalk.” “Even it she's nine years old and oughta know better,” sald the Feed- box Fool. As he spoke another horse passed down the track, and Feedbox rubbed his eyes'in amazement. “What'sa big idea?” he demanded of Appleton. “That kid gonna run her another mile, or what “I,didn’t tell you” Appleton Te- {plled, laughing. “It's a wise owner {that Rnows his own hoss. That's not |your mare out there, but a colt of hers. Four-year old, called Bitter- sweet, belongin' to a fellow from over in Ohfo.” ‘Look’s more like her twin than her son,” commented Feedbox, relieved, That's not all” sald Appleton. “This colt’s thrown in the same race you're startin’ your mare in. How's that for high?’, “Mother and ‘son battlin’ it out, | us He |, mused Feedbox. He stayed at rail to see Bittersweet through workout. “Runs just like his tother,” thought Feedbox. “Eases leng the first half and runs the sec- A\ Nitromite, Sweet Lady and Bit- tersweet work, and saw the same performances repeated. That even- ing, with the race two days off, Feed- box accidentally bumped into little Terry Morgan, first-string jockey for the Tobin stable. “Hi, Terry,” greeted Feedbox “Rotten,” growled Terry. “S'matter?” Feedbox queried. “Feelin’ bum. All in. Got rheumatism, bad.” “So? Where's it bother yuh?" houlders and arms the worst. That's tough luck,” Feedbox com- miserated. “Reckon you don't feel like ridin’ anything that needs.a pull these days?” “Pull? S; pull anything. “Oughta lay off.” “Fat chance! When old man Tobin ires a jock to ride, 'at jock rides, alla time,” said Terry. The Feedbox Fool went on home to Feedborx, 1 couldn’t “ARE YOU RUNNING THIS RACE OR ARE THE JUDGES?” DE- ANDED TOBI the little flat, deep in thought. After supper he went out for a walk. The next evening, when he went out for a walk again, it was to seek some private bookles and place his roll on the morrow’s race. The diy of the race Feedbox went about his business, handing out care- ful opinions anent the chances of various affd sundry ponies, and tak- ing his money as if nothing were afoot. He saw Tom Appleton and asked him' to tell his jock to make his run with Sweet Lady in the last half mile. Furthermore, he expressed the hope that the owners of Bitter- sweet would be smart enough to in- struct their boy the same way. Apple- ton nodded, in understanding. Lay a little for me, kid, along with yours, will you?” Appleton pleaded. For. the rest, the Feedbox Fool did nothing but keep an alert eyg out for a slender, somewhat dandified young man who, he felt sure, would appear at the track before the fifth race, in which Sweet Lady, her gon, and Nitromite were to start. Came to the fourth race, and still no sign of the man. Feedbox started patrol- ling the lawn about the clubhouse. As the race ‘ended -he sagy his man leaving a motor car. The Feedbox Fool contrived to bump into the young fellow, hurrying to- ward the mutual sheds. “Excuse me," sald Feedbox, stumbling to his bal- ance and catching at the young man's sleeve. “Let me puck up your hat Awful sorry. Didn't see you comin" “Ought to watch your step,” growl- | EXT morning Feedbox again saw the! T ) il = l . ” THE FOOL SAID AIRILY. ed Waltet Willoughby Tobin, un- | | graciously. | “Ats right agreed Feedbox, smil- | ing. “Sorry. But maybe I can do| you a good turn. Got anything in| | the next race?” othing but the winner,” retorted Iter Willoughby Tobin. . You haven’t got the winner, un-| less somebody’s been readin’ mind,” exclaimed the “I'm the only guy on the grounds| that's got the lay. Absolutely.” ‘What is it?” snapped young Tobin. fake it quick. Sweet Lady, to win. T know her | tralner.” Feedbox declared earnestly. Nothing to it,” said Tobin. “You're Nitromite next | 1era: | wins this ce.’ | “He-ought to, but*he won't,” Feed- {box argued. “We've got this thing | framed, T tell you. “I now Nitromite's’ |Jock, see? He's gonna pull the black | horse, see? I'm tellin’ you “What's that?" asked Tobin, surprise. . { “rm sayin’ Nitromite | but he won't, get me? {in, right now.- Lemme s | Lady.” | n ughta wi Sweet Lady e1l you Sweet" ‘ * ¥k X 3 OUNG WALTER WILLOUGHBY TOBIN stared at the Feedbex | Fool in amazement. Nitromite was in |with a bunch of dogs, and should |walk home. His dad told him so, and he had some money to bet. But, |on the other hand, suppose this rat | knew what he was talking about. If | Terry Morgan pulled Nitromite— | well, it was a lovely chance to put one over on the old man. The Feed- box Fool read his thoughts. | “Nobody knows this but me, and {one other guy, see?” sald Feedbox, {in his best fawning manner. “I'm not saying who. It ain‘t Mister Tobin.” “Been peddling this everywhere?” Tobin asked sharply. “Only one other gu clared Feedbox positively, Appleton. “All right, then, I'm on,” said young Tobin, reaching a hand into his pocket. “Here's a ten. And, listen—" “Yeah?” queried Feedbox. “Another ten iIf you don't give it to anybody else. How about it?” “You're on,” Feedbox agreed, tak- ing the second ten. . Feedbox Fool hastened off in search of a certain plunging bookmaker to i whom he proposed a little combina- t bet. A hundred to one, the boBkie thought, would about size the thing up. Feedbox gave him the two Tobin tens for two tickets written at that price. Then he hurried over the rail near the judges' stand. About the same time, young Tobin, with his pockets full of mutuel tick- ets on Sweet Lady, joined his father and a group of friends. The elder Tobin let out a tremendous guffaw when the boy told him how he had bet. The youngster stubbornly de- clared he knew what he was doing, and hinted that the race was fixed, via Terry Morgan, to pull Nitromite. The elder Tobin’s yell changed from amusement to angey. He demanded to/ know who sald so, and the boy told. Tobin charged down to the rail by the judges. stand to be close at hand. Across the ‘track, where the harrier was up for the start of the mile-and- a-half struggle, only the jockey caps told Feedbox which was his mare and which wae Bittersweet. Both stood quietly awaiting the word. He could see the great hlack Nitromite charg- ing against the webbing time after time. When one of the track men finally helped Terry pull the big horse down to a standstill, three other got it,” de- thinking of % EPTEMBER 30, 1923 7 starters, all of them contemptuously described by Feedbox as hopheads, caused a turmoil. The drugs that set these threc afire delayed the start. Then the barrier flew up and the race was on. “Just like T though Feedbox half aloud. “Hope these Tobins. Gotta win.” He could see, at the far turn, the gigantic Nitromite pounding to,the fore. Close,behind him fluttered the three hopheads. ~ Starting slowly and already three lengths back were Swett Lady and Bittersweet, galloping along side by side. Standing on tiptoe, he kept his eye on the big black. But when the horses came pounding past the last sixteenth post the Feedbox Fool shifted his scrutiny from Nitromite to little Terry Morgan,\up aloft. “I krew it, I knew it,” whispered the Fool to himself. “The kid's all in. He's rassled with that big brute until he's done. Horse's run away with him and Terry can’t hold him.” Sweet Lady and Bittersweet, run- ning side by side, running easily and treely, it is true, still were runging in the ruck, now six lengths back. “But there's a mile to go,” thought the Feedbox F&bl. “And a lot can happen in four quarters.” Down to the turn they rished, Nitromite holding his long lead, the three hopheads dropping back. Six lengths still separated the black and thg two bays, mother and som, as they swung around the turn to the back stretch. Strunf out in the straightaway, the three continued their rushing game. And then the Fool's heart leaped within him. “Terry's lookin’ back, Terry’s look- in’ back!” he exulted. “He knows the horse is through. He knows it.” * k¥ % ROM that moment tne Fool gave his attention to the little. bay mare and her rugged son. The boy on Bittersweet let the colt have his head and the bay four-year-old took the bit in his teeth. Sweet Lady held her clip, running smoothly, and swung along a length behind the colt. To the half they went in that order. But when they passed that mark Bit- tersweet was only three lengths be- hind Nitromite and the mare four. Whirling up alongside on the last turn, the boy on Bittersweet began his ride to race-Nitromite into the ground. 5 “The colt's on top!” yelled the rail- Dbirds. Bittersweet rushed to the fore, a neck in front, before Nitromite could answer his challenge under Terry Morgan's. whip. Nitromite chatged up to even terms again, and so the pair came glashing down the stretch, head and head. The crowd arése to cheer the battle. . But where Was Sweet Lady? Young Tobin acked himself tke question as he peered at the track. The Feedbox Fool kinew the answer. “She'll come through on the in- side,” gloated the Fool. “Terry will ride off the colt and the mare will take ‘em both at the wire. She's muttered 1 get QMLQAWAMONEN@EP!MAM N » BY L JONATHAN BROOKS THE FEEDBOX FOOL alippin’ through now. She's comin’, she's comin’ There was the mare through the breach at the rail as Terry Morgan swung Nitromite wide to force Bit- tersweet out. She fairly flew with a light, lithe stride that contrasted widely with | the Reavy labored pounding of the great black horse. she thrust her nose to the fore. The jockey on the colt realized too late that his race was with her instead of the big black horse. Bittersweet shot after her as Nitromite faltered in his stride. The flylng mare swept under the wire a neck to the good. Tobin's Nitromite finished half a length behind the colt. The crowd forgot the money it had placed on Nitromite and gave the mare and the colt a tfemendous ova- tion. Old fnan Tobin, red of face and red of eye, went charging up the steps to the judges’ loft. The judges withheld announcement of the order of finish. | |at the trainer's shoulder, “I think they'If want you up here” Tom walted. In a moment a mes- senger came through the crowd from the judges' stand, but, instead of Appleton, he beckaned to the Feedbox | Fool. “There's the dickens to pay.” he whispered. “Old man Tobin's on the warpath.” “Come on, Tom,” Feedbox replied. Both of them went to.the loft.. Wil- loughby Tobin paused in a tirade to the judges as they appeared on the steps, “Here he is, here he is, the rat,” he squalled, shaking a fat finger at the Feedbox Fool. “Now let him tell what he knoaws. Let him tell whether he fixes jockeys to throw horse races for honest men.” The Feedbox Fool winked at Tobin as the last two words came from his mouth. “We didn’t send for you,” said one of tite judges, addressing Appleton. “I came on my own hook,” Appleton replied, respectfully. “I had a mare win a race out here just now, and I came up to see why her number is not hung out.” “You, you, why—" only splutter. “Just & minute,” said the same judge | Who had spoken to Appleton. “Feed- box, Mr, Tobin here charges you with fixing hls jockey. Says you told his son that Terry Morgan would pull Nitromi#®. Says you told him to bet on Sweet Lady, a rank outsider. Is that true?” “It's true that I sald those things,” admitted Feedbox calmly.. ““Perry couldn't pull that fire horse. That's a !joke. I told your boy that just to {make you look like a sucker.” “Look at the finish, look at the fin- {ish!” exclaimed Tobin. “Call up’ the boy, send for Morgan. ' This tout here has got to be expeiled. I'll see that— “Help yourself, Mr. Feedbox quietly. * % % % ccsl'PPOsE." suggested one of the self, Feedbox.” judges, “that you explain your- - “Glad to, if you'll keep him quiet, agreed the Fool. “Listen, I been at this track fifteen years and never crooked anybody, see? Well, this guy gypped my kid brother, get me? You know aboutethat. The kid got pneu- monia, and typhoid, and finally t. all on account of Mister Tobin. Had him barred, and the kid's been sick ever since. Kicked on me racing a horse at this track under my own name. You know that. And then he doubled the rent on my kid ‘brother and Igs wife, and him sick and her nursitg him. Doubled it, get me? With him sick and not able to move. ‘What's all this got to do with the race, hey?” velled Tobin. tell about the race—cut this string of lies. “He's getting to the race,” posed one judge. “Well, then, I got Tom Appleton here to enter my mare for me under his colors, see? And he finds out Mister Tobln's big black horse s in,” said the Fool. “At a mile,and a half. That's a long ways. So I'm talkin' to Terry Morgan thrée days ago, see? He's got rheumatism 5o bad he can hardly lift & cup of coffee to his face. And they put him on a hard-mouthed, heavy-headed runaway horse, get me? All right. And my mare—" “To blazes with your mare tered Tobin. “My mare,” Feedbox said, “Is nine years old. Every race she ever run she went faster the last half than the first.” “It seems to be plain enough,” said the judge to Tobin. “Your horse ran himself out because the jock couldn't hold him. The Fool's mare ran her- selt in. I move that we hang up the numbers as they finished.” “Here, here, walt,” expostulated Tobin. “How about Morgan jerking my horse up short at the finish? Hey? If that wasn't pulling, I never— “Gosh, Tobin!” exclaimed Tom Ap- pleton, dryly, “any horseman could see your tired fire horse was about to fall down. The jock was only holdin’ him up.” “Are you running this case or are the judges,” demanded Tobin, hotly. “We're runninig it, and we're or- dering the numbers hung up as they finished.” This @ictum sent Tobin into a final tantrum. % “But the little rat was betting on the thing; had it framed, and sold his dirty tips right and left” Tobin -Tobin could Tobin,” sajer inter- mut- “Bar all you want,” spoke up the Feedbox Fool. “I'm leaving here to- RUGGED SON, FLASHING ALONG BEHIND NITROMIE, - s~ %™~ ~ At the sixteenth “Hey, Tom,” sald Feedbox, pludking | “Let him! morrow, see? With my sick ki brother, for California.” Tobin stamped down the stairs, and {the Feedbox Fool turned to follow i him. “Wait a minute, kid,” interrupted the friendly judge. “Were you bet ting on the race?” “Absolutely. All bets but two made on the mare to win” “Whew!” sald the judges, whistling in unison. “But those other two bets? “Ten each, in combination: mate, Bittersweet- and the horse to finish that way. ““Bittersweet to place? Why sald the judge. “That? Oh, I'm a gamblin’ Feedbox laughed. Tom Appleton walked up the tracl with Feedbox. “Feedbox, you're an artist” said Appleton. “I follow you all the wa) except for just one thing; Why did you pick on young Tobin to hand out that tip? How did you know him?” “Know him?” echoed the Feedbox 1Fool. “He's the bird that doubled th: rent on my kid brother for his old man. See?” Tom Appleton c did he give you “Two tens,” said Fcedbox. “And 1 put ‘em both on the combination & hundred to one. One for me and one for you, see?” “Too much money,” said Tom Ap pleton. “Keep it, kid. “I've got enough to buy half of southern California to cure the kid in” Feedbox rejoined. “You take it And listen, Tom, you keep the mare for me til] I get back, will you? And if you can get hold of that colt, bu him for us, fifty-fifty, hey?” (Copyright, 1023.) 1 The blaci hat? ool wrehended. “What ‘Wool Drying. A MONG the chlefest and most seri- ous operations in the woole: industry is the drying of the wo The imore gently and uniformly the wool is dried, the better is the ré sult attained. For should the wool be slightly damp in some of its parts the dye does not take well and the resultis an unevenly died yarn that |shows In the texture of the woveu goods. Overdrying is also to be guarded against. By some manufacturers the wbol from the squeezing roller is whizzed into a hydro extractor which drives out so much of the moisture that the further drying is easily ef fected. The commonest way of drying however, is to spread the wool as uniformly as possible over a frame- work of wire netting under or over which is a range of steam-heated pipes. A fan blast blows air over these hot pipes and the heated alr is passed and forced upward or down- ward as the case may be, over the layer of wool that rests on the met ting. In this case, unless the wool is spread with great evenness, it gets unequally dried, and at points where the hot air escapes freely it is much over-dried. 3 A more rapid and uniform result’ may be obtained by the use of a me- chanical wool drler, a close chamber divided into horizontal compartments the floors of which have alternate fixed and moving bars. Under ti chamber is a tubular heating ap- paratus and a fan, by which & power ful current of heated air is blown up the side of theechamber and through all the shelves and compart- ments successively, either following or opposing the wool passing through the machine. The wool is introduced by a con- tinuous feed at one side of the cham- ber; the strength of the blast carries it up and deposits it on the upper shelf, and by the action of the mov- {able bars, which are worked by cranks, it iy carried forward to the opposite end, from where it drops to the next lower shelf; and so on it travels to the extremity of the lower shelf, passing out by the deliv lattice, well, evenly dried. About the Feather. INCE remotest antiquity feathers have been used to adorn the human race, but an ordinary feather, like that from the wing of a pigeon, Is passed over as commonplace. Such a feather has however, many won- derful features. The veln of a feather of the sort just mentioned is composed of little barbs, and on one side of the quill are no less than 600Wf them, These tiny barbs are really miniature feath- ers, and on both sides of the quill there are, therefore, 12,000. Thel barbs In turn are made up of barb- ules, of which each barb will show no less than 275 pairs, and each pair has a serles of curved hooks called barbicels. These work into opposite series df grooves so tightly that the air cannot force its way through the teather. Hence they assist the owner of the feather in its flight. In con- trast to this feather is the-long, web- less plume of the bird of paradise, the tall feathers of the Iyre bird and the bristles about the mouth of the nighthawk. Sti1l another sort of. feather is found in the down of geese and swans, in which the center shaft is nearly or quite absent, as are also the hooks, the barbules being soft and long. Strength of Eggshell. ‘VO.\'DERPUL provision has been made by Nature for the protec- tion of eggs against breakage by building them on the principle of the arch. The fact that no one can break a hen's egg by squeezing it between his hands so long as he applies the pressure in the direction of the long axis of the egg has led to certoin ex» periments with a speciai apparatus. The eggs were placed point upward on a scale, and-pressure was applied by means of a lever and jack. Brown egge proved stronger than white ones. They broke under a pressure that averaged 156 pounds, White egss broke under an average pressure of 112.5 pounds. The shells were found to be from .013 to .014 of an inch thick. Since the average diameter of the eggs used was 1% inches, some 1dea can be gained| of the strength that the egg owes to its structural form, ‘ - A