Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, August 17, 1902, Page 20

Thoroughbreds. By W. A Author of “The Outcast,” (Copyright, 1902, by McClure, Phillips & Co.) CHAPTER V. John Porter sat Ia the grandstand with bis usual companion, Allis, beside him, as the Dutehraan, Lucretia and the other Eclipse hotses passed down the broad spread of the stralght Eclipse course to the five-and-one- half-turlong post. Though Porter had missed the betting, he intuitively felt the joy, of an anticipated wis. Only & true lover of thoroughbreds can know aught of the mad tumult of exul- tation that twangs and vibrates the heart- strings as a loved borse comes bravely, gal- lently, out from the surging throng of his rivals, peer and king of them all,| stretching his tapering meck with eager striving, and goes onward, past the tribunal, irst and alon leader, the winner, the to be cheered of wrought to frensy by his conquest. “Burely Lucretia will win today, father don’t you think so?” asked Allis; "I feel that she wiil.”’ got a big welght up,” he answered. a little bit of a thisg, apd it may drive her into the ground com- ing down the Belipse hill. 1 expect they'll coms at a terrible jog, t bang back on that course. Now that the betting worry and the worry of getting an honest boy were over—t| the horses had gonve to the the race rested with Lucretia b ter's mind had relaxed. Even at the time of the struggle fself tension had gone from Bim; he was In & meditative mood, and epoke on, welghing the chances, with Allis as audi- ence. “But they'll have to move some to beat the little mare's trial—they'll make it in record time if they head her, I think “Ien’t the horse that beat her the other day In, too, father?" “The Dutehman—yes, but I fancy his owner Is backing my mare.” ) “It wouldn't make any difference, though; she'd beat him anyway. It I'm any judge, he's short.” Allis felt a rustle at her elbow as though someone wished to pass between the seats. The faintest whiff of stephanotis came to on the lazy summer air. Involuntarily she turned her head and looked for the barsh-voiced woman who had been verily stesped in the aggressive odor the day of Lausanne’s trium Two burly men sat behind her. They surely did not affect per- fumery—there was even a fair gale of clgar origin, homing in their clothes. Higher up the stand her eye searched—four rows back eat the woman Alan had said was Langdon's sister. There was no forgetting the buoy- ant brilliancy of her apparel. But the al most fancled zephyr of stephanotic wi mingling with the rustle at her elbow; she turped her head inquiringly in that direc- tivw, sad Orai yoz peeped at har over the stone wall of their narrow lids. He was standing in the passage just beyond her fether, now looking wistfully at the vacant seat on her left. “Good afternoon, Miss Porter—how are you, Porter? May I sit here with you and see Lucretia win?’ “Come in, come in!" answered Porter, frankly. “I was sitting with some friends higher up in the stand, when I saw you h thought I'd like to make ome of the vic- torious party.” Allis knew who the (r\.l‘l were; ‘linging touch of s had come with bim, & hlnbnlud mentor that sug- ted to her an evil atmosphere, The discrepancy in Crln- ntiments darred ‘on Allis—the had be- trayed him most mhmc.ny. that other day this woman had been bis trainer's sister, to be recognized for politic pur- poses; today he had \been sitting With Topping the rall in the distance, just wh course kinked a little to the left, Allis could see the blur of many colored ks fn the sunlight. Then it seemed to flatten down almost level with the rall, as { mun broadened on to the earth in spread, the ridi the galloping colts—for they had A man could baye counted thirty before he sald: “The Dutchman's out in front—a length, and they're coming down the hill like mad.” Allis felt her heart sink. Was it to be the same old story—was there always torbe something in frout of Lueretia? “Where I8 your mare?’ Crane asked. His own | lay 1dly in his la ‘Though he spoke of the race, it was curlous that his eyes were watching the gfay of Allls’ features, As hope and palr fought their old human-torturing fight over aga o her heart. “Now \ she's coming!” Porter's voice made Orane jump; he had almost for- gotten the race. To his close-calculatin mind 1t had Deeén settled days before. The Dutchman would pot win, and Lucretia was the best of the others—why worry? They were standing now—everybody wa “Now, my beuuty, they'll have to Porter was saying. They were close up, and Crane could e that Lucretla had got to the bay colt's head, and he was dying away. He smiled cynically as he watched Westley go to the whip op the Dutehman, with Lucretia Dalf a length in the lead. Most certainly Langdon was excellent tralner, Dutchman was just good enough to last into second place, and Lucretia had won Bandily. What a win Crane had had. A little smothered gasp distracted bhis momentary thought of puccess, and, turn- ing quickly, he say tears in & pair of gray eyes that were set in a smiling face. 1 it of the poem Allls *1 congratulate you, Miss Porter,” he sald, raising bie hat. Then he turned and ull out his band to her father, sayings glad you' won, Porter—I thoughy| The Dutchman quit when le a lot of candle ked Porter, somewhat ambiguously. Then he added, “I must go down and thank Dixon: I guess this 1s Bis anoual day for smiling “I'm coming, teo, father,” said Allls: “1 Wway after sach race to fiter down on th lawn. The way seemed clearer presoptly and Orspe, risiag, fell in behind a knot of | loud-talking men. The two of large pro- portioss, who had sat behind Allls, were itke huge gate posts jammed there in the "Mooswa." and Other Stories. the wine.man, today from t an’ soon’s K saw a move wise guys In | plumped tor the mare toot sweet. FRASER. parrow way. Ae he moved along slowly at hie side—a famillar presence. Raising his eyes from a contemplation of the heels in front of him he saw Belle Langdon. She nodded with patronizing freedom. “I lost you," she said. P “1 wa he explained. “Yes, 1 saw her,” endly. At that {nstant one of the stout men in tront sald, with a bear's snarl: that's the worst ever; I've seen some jobs in my time, but this puts it over anything she commented, point. “Didn't you back the little mare volce squealed. It was the tout. “Back nothin’t The last time out el a thin | . Ora [Bow considerable of an ass the publie W !ll its theoretical wisdom. he presently had knowledge of a presence | sitting with some friends here,” | “Well, | What an extraordinary thing manipula. | | tion w mused, a8 he listened; also Then the three men drifted away to fol- | low some new toy balloon of erratic pos- | sibllities, and Crane wound through the narrow passage which led to the paddeck. | There e encountered Langdon. | “He alan’t run a very good horse, sir,” | began the trainer. | “I thought otherwise,” replied Crane, measuring the immediate vicinity of nmn-l 8. | "I had to draw it & bit fine,” declared Langdon, with apologetic remonstrance. Running second is always bad business, cxcept in a selling race,” retorted his mas- | ter. “I've got to think of myself,’ growled Langdon. “If he'd been beat off, there'd | been trouble; the stewards have got the other race in their crop a bit yet. “I'm pot blaming you, Langdon; only I was @ trifie atrald that you were going to beat Porter's mare, He's a friend of mine | | and needed a win badly. I'm not exuctly his | tather confessor, but I'm his banker, which amounts to pretty much the same thing." | “What about the horse, sir? asked the | traner. | ot musea Porter. | was one, they stop. T bet Diablo ‘Il quit right there; done it three or four times. Me was the making of a great horse as & 2-year-old, wasn't he, Andy?’ “They paid a long price for him, if that's any line; but 1 think he never was no good. It don't matter how fast & horse is If he won't try.” “I've an idea Diablo'll be a good horse “You ean't make & slow horse gallop, but thers's a chanee of curing a horse’s temper by kind treatment. I've noticed that a squealing pig generally runs lke the devil whem he takes it iInte his head.” “Diablo's & squealing pig If thers ever growled Dixon. They had reached the track stable, and, #e It by a mutual instiper, the two men walked ou till they stood in front of Lau- 1anne’s stall. “He's a good enough looker, ain't he?" commented Dixon, as he dipped under the door bar, went into the stall and turned the horse ubout. “He's the picture of his old sire, Lazzarone,” he continued, looking the horse over critically; ' a damned ight bigger rogue, though the old one was bad enough. Laszarone won the SBuburban with blinkers on his head, bandages on Iris legs, an’ God knows what in his stomach. He | was second in the Brooklyn that same year. I've always heard he was a mule, an' I guess this one got it all, an’ none of the “YOU WERE HYPNOTIZIU THAT DAY, MR. FAUST, 80 WAS THE JUDGE. LAUZANNE DIDN'T BEAT ANYTHING." |couldn't untrack herself; an' today she comes, without any pull in the weight, and wins in a walk from the Dutchman; and :l‘flfl'! he beat her just as easy the other o Belle Langdon looked fnto Crane’'s face, and her eyes were smeared with a look of reciprocal meaning. Crane winced. How aggressively obnoxious this half-tutored girl, mistress of many gay frocks, could make herself. There was an implied crime- partnership in her glance which revoited him, Dick Langdon must bave talked in bis own home. Crane's’ consciencg—well, he hardly had one, perhaps; at least it was always sub- servis to put {t in another way, the retrospect of his manipulated dipiomacy never bothered him, but this gratuitous sharing in his evil trilumph was disquiet- ing. The maliclous glitter of the girl small, black eyes contrasted strongly with the honest, unaffected look that was for- ever in the big, tranquil eyes of Allls. They wore just at the head of the steps and the tout was saying to the fat expostu- lator. 1 could hava put you next; 1 steered a big better on—he won a thousand over the mare. 1saw Boston’s betting man havin® an old time play, an' I knew it w, a lead-pipe cinch. He's a sure thing bet- tor, he is; odds don’t make no difference to him, the shorter the better—that's when his owu boy's got the mount. “It's all right to be wise after the race,” grunted the fat man. the stable didn’t have a penny tim suppose made her favorite today?" queried the tout derisively. ‘It took a bar'l of money,” he continued, full ®f his own logical deductions, “‘an’ I'll bet Porter cleaned up twenty thousand. He's a pratty slick cove, is ol1 ‘Honest John,' if you ask me." ‘The girl at Crane's side eackled a laugh. “He's funny, is2't he she said, nodding ber big plumed hat in the direction of the man group. “He's a talkative fool!" muttered the banker, shortly. ““The steps are clear on the other side, Miss Langdon; you cau get down there. 1've got to go into the pad- dock—you'll excuse me." Belng viclous out of -emptiness—for the fun of the thing had never appealed to Crane; he raced, as he did everything else— to win. If nther men suffered that was the play of fate. He never talked about thewe things himself, almost disliked to think of them. He furned his back on Belle Lang- don and went down the right-hand steps. On the grass sward' at the bottom he | stopped for an instant to looi: acrof t the Jockey board. Three men had just come out from the refreshment bar under the etand. They. werc peasested of many things 1d of the bookmakers in their pockets, and its ever- attendant exhilaration in their hearts. One of them liad eracked a bottle of wine at the bar, as a tribute to the exceeding swiftness of Lucretia, for d won plentifully. At that particular stage there was pothing left but to talk it over, and they talked. Crane, avariclous, unhesitating in his fighting, devold of eympathy, was not of the eavesdropping cli but he stood there, | he was much a part of the other men’ conversation as though he had been a fourth member of the brotherhood. “I tell you none of these trainers ain't o it “with & geotleman owner—when he takes to racin’. When & man of brains takes to runnin' horses &' profesh, h he of the “D'you mean Porter, Jim?" asked sumber two of the trio. “Maybe that's his name. An' he put it all over Mister Langdon this trip.” “'As how?"" queried the other. “Last time he runs his mare, she's got corns in her feet the whole journey, an' all the time he of winner, Lauzanne, |see?—buya him before they go out. Then Langdcn thinks the Dutchman's the goods, an’' buys him at & faney price—gives & bale |t long ‘goods for him—TI've got it straight thit be parted with fifteen thoussnd. Then the gentleman owner, Homest Jobm, ‘urns the trick with Lucretis, an' makes the look Mke a sellin’ plater. Langdon’ll feel pretty bazarded number three. '“I'd been watchin' the game,” continued siel “We'll see Iater on. Let him go the present.’” “I wonder what he meant by that,” don mused to himself, as Crane moved away. “He don’t make nobody a present of & race for Jove.”” Suddenly he stumbled upon a solution of the enigma. ‘“Well I'm damned if that wasn't slick; he give me the straight tip to leave Porter to him—to let him do the plannin’; I see.” y for Lang- CHAPTER VI. Porter was an easy man with his horses. Though he could not afford, because of his needs, to work out his theory, that two- year-olds should not be raced, yet he utilized it as far as possible, by running them at longer intervals than was gemeral. “I'll start the little mare about once more this season,” he told Dixon. “The babes can't cut teeth and grow, and fight it out in punishing races, on dusty hay and hard- shelled oats, when they ought to be picking grass in an open fleld. She's too good a beast to do up In her young days. The Assassins made good 3-year-olds and the little mare's dam, Maid of Rome, wasn't much her first year out—only won once— but as a 3-year-old she won three out of four starts and the fourth year never lost & race. Lucretia ought to be a groat mare mext year, if I lay her by early this season. 8he's in a couple of stakes at Gravesend and Sheepshead, and we'll just fit her into the softest spot.” “What about Lauzanne?’ asked trainer; “I'm afrald he's a bad horse.” “How 1s he doin, “He's stale. He's a clean up his oats, mopes.” “I guess that killing finish with the Dutchman tock the life out of him. That sort of thing often settles a soft-hearted horse for all time. “I don't think it was the race, sir,” Dixon replied; “they just pumped the cocaine into him till he was falr blind drunk; he must a’ swallowed the bottle. I give him a ball, & bran .m: nd Lord knows what all, an’ the polson’s workin' out of him. He' all breakin’ out in lumps; you'd think he'd been stung by bees.” “I mever heard of such a thing," com- mented Porter. “A man that would dope & 2-year-old ought to be ruled off, sure. “I think ycu oughter make a kick, sir," said Dixon, hesitatingly. “I don't. When 1 squeal, Andy, 1t'll be when there's nqthing but the voice left. T bought a horse from a man once, just a8 he stood. I happened to know the horse, nd sald I didn't want any inspection dide’'t want to see him, but bought h'm as Just as he stood. When I went to the stable to get him he wasn't worth much, Andy—he was dead. Perhaps I might have ck about his not standing up, but | the bad doer—doesn't sir, I'm thinkin' Lauzann deuced sight worse'n a dead hor costi more trying to win with him. ‘1 dare say you're right, but he can gal- “No dope for mé, Andy. I mever ran a dope horse and never will—I'm too fond of m to polson them.' “I'll freshen him up a bit, eir, give him a try o a day or two. mind puttin’ him fa & sellin' race—he cost abit. “He couldn’t win anything else, and if anybody wants to claim him they can.” starting Diablo in that mile he's in pretty light. He's about all we've got ready.” “ANl right, Dixon, may be that we" the little mare. They were standing In the paddock dur- ing this conversation. It was in the fore- woon. Dixon had come over to the secrs. tary’s office to see about some entries ha- fore 12 o'clock. When the trainer had finished his bueiness the two men walked across the cowrse and infleld to where Dixon had his horues. passed over the “Wister course, eircular track was called, Dixon polnted to the Aip mear the lower far turn. “It's & deuced f thing,” be sald, Porter replied. “It | broke our bed luck with speaking reminlscentiy, “but that little hollow there setties more horses than the last 8ty yards of the finish; it seems to make the soft ones remember that they're ruspin’ when hey get that change, aa’ j santopin’. “How does he work with the others?" queried Porter. “Runs & bit an' then cuts it—won't try a yard. Of course he's sick from that dope, an’' the others are a bit fast for him. If we put him in a sellin’ raee, cheap, he'd have a lightweight an’ might better.” Porter walked on to Luereth the trainer continued in & monologue to Lauzanne: “You big slob! You're a counter- feit, it there ever one. But I'll stand you a drink just to get rid of you; I'll put & bottle of whisky Inside your vest day after tomorrow, an’ if you win p'rps. somebody ‘Il buy you.” Lauzanne did not answer—it's & way horses have. It is doubtful If his mind quite grasped the situation, That neither Dixony nor Langdon, nor the jockey boys understood him he knew—not clearly, but approximately enough to increase his stubbornness, to rouse his resentment. They had not even studied out the pathology of his descent sufficiently well to give him a fair show—to train him intelligently. They remembered that his sire, Lazzarone, had & bad temper; but they forgot that he was a stayer—not given to sprinting. Even Lauzanne’s dam, Bric-a-Brac, was fond of a long route, was better at a mile and a half then five furlongs. Lauzanne knew what had come to him of genealogy, not in his mind so much as in his muscles. They were strong but siug- glsh, not active but non-tiring. Langdon had raced Lausanne with sprinting colts, and when they ran away from him at the run of half a mile. Then the wise man bad sald that Lauzanne's courade was at fault; the jookeys had called it laziness, and applled the whip. And out of all this uselessness, this unthinking philosophy, the colt had come with a soured temper, a broken bellef in his masters—‘“Lauzanne, the Despised.” “‘Porter's trust that his lll-luck had been changed by a win was a faith of short lite, for Diablo was most emphatically beaten in his race. And then came the day of forlorn hope. the day of Lauzanne's disgrace, inasmuch as it degraduated him into the selling. ater clas Bad horse as Langdon knew Lauzanne to be it occurred to him that Porter had planned a clever coup. He had an interview with Crane over the subject, but his maste: i not at &ll share the trainer's beliet. ““What price would Lucretia or the Dut man be In with the same lot?” Langdon asked, argumentatively. “About one to ten,” Crane replied. “But the chestnut's beating them had na bear- {ing on this race. From what I see of Mr. Dixon, I don't at all class him with you @3 a tralner—he hasn't the same re- source.” Langdon stood silent, sullenly turning over in h!s mind this doubtful compliment. “I'm pot sur continued the banker, “but that having stuck Porter with Lauzanne, you shouldn’t give him & hint about—wel, as to what course of prepara- ton would make Lauzanne win & race for him. The ordinary diet of oats is hardly l\hz\lllllll. enough for such & sluggish anim Langdon frowned. If Crane had mot been qQuite w0 strong, quite so full of unexpressed power, he would have rebelled at the as- serticn that he bad stuck Porter; but he answered, and his volce struggled between asperity apd deprecation. “There ain't mo call for me to give that stable any point- {ers; Porter put it to me pretty straight that the horse had been blandly inquired “Told him to go to hell.” This n't exactly truthful as we remember the interview, but its terseness appealed to Crave, and he smiled as he sald: “Porter probably won't take your ad- vice, Langdon; he's stubborn emough &t times. And even If he does know that—that —Lauzanne requires special treatment, he won't indulge him—be's got a lot of eld- fashioned 14 about racing. 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(Ovzr Dally Newy) “but is certainly bad business,” he mused; the publi And what's bad for the backes the layers; I must see Faust.” “You had better make a book to beat Lauzanne,” Crane said to Jakey Faust, just before business had commenced in the ring that afternoon. The Cherub stared in astonishment; oyes bpemed wide. That was nearly the limit of his fat little face's expression, no matter what the occasion. “You don'i own him now, 4o FoU blurted out, with unthinking candor. do_not." “He's dropped into a soft spot—he rates best in the percentage card.” “Figures sometimes lle,” Crane. “Every handicapper tips him to win “They're all broke because of knowledge.” . *“Phe books 'l mark him up first cholce.” ““§aat's why it will be worth while play- ing the fleld to beat him."” “He's in with a gang of muts today, ai he beat some crackerjacks last time out. “You were bhypnotized that day, Mr. the judge; Lauzanne didn't 1s good for commented their bell—didn't the chestnut get the verdict “He did; but—" and Crane looked at Faust with patient toleration of his lack of perception. The Cherub waited for an explanation of the contradictory remarks. But he might have waited indefinitely—Crane had quite finished. The Cherub raised his little round o like glass alleys, green and treaked, to the other's face inquiringly, and encountered a pair of pene- trating orbs peering at him over some sort of & mask—the faco tained the eyes was certalnly & mask—as expressionless. Then it came to Jakey Faust that there was nothing left to do but fll the Lauzanne column in his book with the many bets that would come his way and make much money. Crane watched Lauzanne go lazily, slug- gishly down to the post for his race. He knew the horse's moods; the walk of the chestnut was the indifferent stroll of a horse that is thinking only of his dinner. “They've given him nothing,” the banker muttered to himself; ‘“the heavy-headed brute won't try a yard. But he'll fight the boy when he tried to ride him out.” The whisky that Dixon had surrepti- tiously given Lauzanne had been ineMeacious as so much ginger beer: and in the ra Lauzanne drew back out of the bustle and clash of the striving horses as quickly as he could. In vain his jockey used whip and ur; Lauzanne simply put his ears back, switched his tafl, and loated along, & dozen lengths behind his fiel: In the straight he made up a little of the lost ground, but he was securely out of the maney at the finish.. Fate otill sat and threw the dice as he had for many moons—nothing for John Por- ter and a six for Philip Crane. (To Be Continued.) LABOR AND INDUSTRY, The National Malicable Castings company of Toledo increased their.150 employes’ 10 per ecent. Angeles will organize a union labor advocating the political demands of fhe American Federation of Labor. Labor Day, SBeptember 1, will probably be chunn as t Q date for a [nnd Jollification Keesport, Pa., in henor of the pro- p:ua erection of the $10,000.000 tube works Of 7 unlons, with an aggregate me ber- ship of 60,590, reportin e state of em- loyment to ‘the Amer can’ Federation o bor for the month of June, 1,206 were without .m'?loyme‘! or 19 per cent. This is the lowest point reached so far thiy year. Incidental to the wes trip of the cncunvc councll comes the old %story that Bamuel Gompers will not be re-elected at the next. convention at eans in the national New mber. It that officers of sever ge organizations have already talked the matter over and have selected & new man for the head of the Jabor movement of the country, The man generally favored is James Duncan. firet Vice president. who, it la Lelicved, la more aggressive than Mr. Gom) rt ‘errence V. Powderly, formerly head of the Knights of Labor, and recently comm's- ioner of immigration, is now man: is sald ‘will reason just as Langdon does. | his | anthracite coal mine in Pennsylvania t'ia mot & eo-operative enterprise, in the he says, “but it has one | h carries out a iife long Every man who .nrk‘ in our mines must be a stockholder. He either takes stock or he gets no job. He can buy is shares absolutsly on the ‘ground foor sis; but mark you, it is not Ricit'e’s plain case of purchase nd Then he becomes & sharer in the respon biltden o ature wh mine. ] me profits of the enter- wa; doesn't care his shovel does. of his doing it well the feciing ibai Selongs | la\l Bul glve h!m nru paii of im D'uunlll{ lnd h ig ma oveltuls out in a hell take numy 8004 c where it is most needed. 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