The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, July 31, 1904, Page 6

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. McCi ure ¢ other feliows in the Hucsars be- vn the * they regard to his had let him worthy ed about ght trying condition into ave amaited him he had just the temper that any piece of him, drove drew cowan to be’s laugh- that came an elephant. The s clephants have, The re- buricd at laughed that his a story of the Babe the elephant vn was in the life in , the the per- what to all tum- the cyclonic vio- onsoon. He —at least, he meantime he of tortuous meney, and ere ur of of ras ng; were Amir, of them be- ged to men ames were John, James " as t say in the school books, 1 w very well for this a The ere all d in the ¥ v he horses, of course E me e betting mill would be a big one. That was, between Amir an k ticularly The ail- . ¥ . mile on the flat, a aists hic} ted both horses egu Was supy ie down and roll er afte ha ne a half mile, for five furlongs at the terms of the race ters, and that was 2d been put in. He sidized interest 2 runner a native ocke good enough to 9 and That's much cheaper. is owner, thought; so h ttle better than a s knew enough to sit in let the horse use his o scretion—which, after is not su bad thing Before the race John, the owner of An took counsel ith himself. It would be 3 near t g between his horse and Rocket ither might win. iepend on Amir's win- pon Rocket's. In fi inced himself that Rock wch the better chance; so, throug’ e backed the other man’s horse heavily. It was a thor- ough und enterprise, based on ob- But James was not so ocket winning as was his n He had uneasy qualms What if Amir could ile—he was certainly faster tocket? It was too risky; he back the better horse, Amir. So a trusty henchman, who loaded villing “bookies” with bets on horse, Amji=, It was a generous > this vacking of each oth- an unselfish thing: and their good under a bushel; did the right hand know what the t was doing —said not a word to each princip! horse th other. Of course, the result of this steady plunge on the part of the own- ers caused Amir and Rocket to rule closc favorites in the betting. It was € to on—take your choice. Also be- cause of this and because he really hadn't a ghost of a chance, Pegu glided out in the betting until he was 20 to 1. This was a charming sort of arrange- ment for the Babe to wander up against He had a happy faculty of finding intricate combinations of this sort, and his supreme indifference to results and complete faith in his own ability usually run him hard and fast on the sunken rock. When he asked a friend what he should back the friend blithely answered: “Amir—nothing else in it.” That being so, he felt that he must do something substantial; so be had 1000 rupees on the horse. It was an exhilarating start, and he whistled cheerfully .as he walked eround to the front of the stand. “You are happy,” said Captain Lavel, meeting him on the grass promenade. “Yes,” answered Tobyn, “I've just backed the winner—that is to be.” “What's the good thing?” asked Lavel. “Amir; Grant says he pan't lose.” “Now, look here,” exclaimed Label, half angrily, “Grant’s an ass. Amir hasn’'t a thousand-to-one chance. I know him, for I used to own him. He can’t stay the distance; seven-eighths is as far as he can get. He'll crack up a furlong from home at the pace Rocket’ll set him.” He looked with angry compassion into_the face of Tobyn, and the latter drew the toe of his boot thoughtfully acroes the grass, making Maltese crosses, as though he woyld force his thought into- some sort of shape. Lavel's information had staggered him, What the deuce did Grant mean by putting him onto a horse like that— onto a dead one? Then he remembered that Grant had taken a rise out of him once or twice before. However, evi- dently Lavel knew about the runners, 80 he asked, “What shall I do?” “Why, go back Rocket,” advised the captain. “Play to get even. Back him for 1000 or enough to pay your losings over Amir. I shouldn’'t do any more on this sort of a race, if I were you,” and he sauntered over to the marquee, for all this talking made him dry. ard the bookmakers to do as his friend had advised, “I can’'t win and I am almost certain to lose a little.” He wondered why in the world he wasn’t clever enough to think of some scheme to score over Grant and the other fellows who were always putting him onto dead things. The only thing he could do would be to wring some of their necks, but that would be bad form. It meant showing that he had lost his temper because he got a bit the worst of it; that wouldn't be toler- ated in the Hundredth Hussars. Why the deuce wasn’t he clever enough to score? By Jove, it was really aggra- vating. Then he backed Rocket for 1000, and felt that he was pretty well back at the beginning again. How- ever, it was better than losing. He didn’t nind the money so much as the known fact of his persistency in never picking a winner. He was in this irregular frame of mind when Larraby spotted him. “Here's sport,” muttered the latter to himself and he hellographed a friend, Dixon, to join him. “What have you backed, Tobyn?” asked Larraby, solici- tously. “Backed them both,” Babe, laconically. “Pegu, what else?” queried Larraby. “Pegu be hanged! I haven't touched that crock,” he answered, with fine scorn in his voice. *“I got on Amir first, thanks to Grant, and then Lavel assured me that he had no chance, and I put a thou’ on the Rocket, to save the Amir money.” “Then you'll be just 2000 out,” said Larraby, solemnly; “2000 of her Majes- ty’s rupees—won't he, Dixon?" answered the Storiette “Yes,” assented the latter, wonder- ing why he should be forced into his friend’s lie, “How's that?” asked Tobyn, frown- ing a look into the face of the com- placent Larraby. ““Well, neither owner is backfng his “ IHERE HE STOOD,THF. QNLY WINNER AMONG ALIL, THOSE CLEVER RACING FEN — THE BaBr, 7’ herse. I know for a fact, because I've been watching; and that means any- thing you like. Besides, Pegu can run like a streak of blue lightning. He's got a lightweight on his back, and he’ll get away from them so far they’ll never catch him in this heavy going.” GUY WETMORE’S FIND H, I won't lke him. recommended people.” “But, Jo,” Miss Pendjeton put her head out of the car window and nodded at the handsome girl in the smart turnout, “a Govern- or’s son and red hair!” she coaxed. “Not the Prince of Pilsen and Ru- dolph Rassendyl. I've heard nothing but Guy Wetmore for three weeks and I'm sick of him—a pink of perfection, a prig who wears nose glasses. T'll put him through his paces.” She gathered up the lines. “Now, Jo, don’t get into any of your ‘Western pranks. This isn’'t Wyoming, you know, and we really want you to like each other.” “We're not going that way,” she said, bringing the horse up short at a cross road. “You're just like the rest of these poky people, Christopher—you move 'along in the same old rut. Just because you came down that road to the station doesn’t argue that you are oing back. 1 mean to go down this vay and see what's doing.” Wherewith she turned the equipage, and down the road in the hot sun they went in the opposite direction. Away they sped from the big coun- try house, where a straggling house party was trylng to keep itself amused till the lion of the hour should appear and proceed to fall in love with the hostess’ niece, Jo Pendleton. *Where's the Clristopher? I hate [ ‘Why, haven't you got a bridge here? Don’t you have bridges in the East?” the girl's cool voice inquired of ‘the inert horse pulled up beside a shallow, sparkling stream. “There's the house over there,” pointing the whip across to a distant pile of red roof and. large chimneys) At the touch of the whip the horse plunged snorting into the swiftly flow- ing water, floundered on for a pace or two and stopped, his legs braced, ears down, i ‘‘Well, Christopher, if you aren’ fool!" ) But the horse, snorting viciously, re- fused to budge. Forward, backward, sidewise, it was all the same. : “Well!” The whip went into its stock emphatically. “You needn’t think I am going to sit out here in this creek: all day. You will go across, Christopher. See it you don’t.” Pins dropping on the leather cushions, a ripping open of heoks, a rustle of siik, and the natty brown golf skirt dropped about her feet. There was a flash of little patent leathers, a length of drop- stitch stocking, a flirt of an abbreviated and billowy white petticoat as she vaulted over the wheel and splashed down into the water. > “It 18 kind o' coel, she rattled on, “though long enough to get used to it. Come on!” Walking around -to the head, holding to the shaft, her skirt scarcely dipping in the water, she gave & tug . A her, youwve voon in to the hitching strap. 'jchrlatopheftv Do:’t be silly!™ she started on encouragingly. Snorting,. pufling, placing ene foot carefully before the other, he fol- lowed. Across'the little stream, up the bank and on to the sandy road agaln, she held the.strap taut. “It's’ pretty wet, Christopher,” as he gave a mighty shake and thrashed his tail about, “only your old patent leathers won’t be ruined.” She looked ruefully down at her soaking feet. She shook . the ruffles of her diminutive skirt, “Wouldn’t Aunt Pendleton have a fit? - Gracious!” iShe looked up just In time to catch the end of an amused glance from the blue eyes of a young fellow in 'Bray golf ghirt, who was walking leis- urely away, with his head turned in the direction of the red tiles. 'He had wonderful red halr. She turned and scrambled precipi- tately into the cart. Picking up the lines-she-said in a subdued whisper: “Dear me, Christopher, this isn’t Wyoming, is it?” The wacon turnout with its flushed occupant disappeared down the road ;c::::.rd_ the red roofs in a cloud of “She is such a foolish child, and yet I can’t believe anything has happened to her. ‘She'is so used to taking care of herself. .1 do wish she were a little less self-sufficient.” Miss Pendleton’s voice ‘was plaintive. She and Guy Randelph Wetmore were - “You'll Tobyn. , “Win? Of course he will; he’ll walk in. You’d better put 1000 on him and make a haul; he’s 20 to 1. Have a plunge. At any rate you'll have backed the three of them, and must get a winner. “What did you do that for?” asked Dixon as they turned away from Tobyn. You know Pegu was only put in to make up the race.” “Oh, he's a fair game,” answered Larraby lightly. “I like to see him dropping his sovs about. I'll tell this down at the mess to-night—how the Babe backed all the horses in a race and expected to win.” The more Tobyn thought it over the more it occurred to him that he ought to back Pegu. If he didn’t and the latter won, by Jove, he’'d have backed two losers out of three runners. Great Rama! they would laugh at him; he'd never hear the last of it. Also he'd lose 2000—1000 over each of the horses. If he backed Pegu now he could only lose 1000—he must find the winner, then, as Larraby had said. And, of course, if Pegu won, he'd win 20,000. He'd do it. So he had 1000 on “the outsider” at 20 to 1. The bookmaker chuckled softly to himself when he booked the bet. “That's 1000 out of the fire,” he sald. “The other two are running for each other; this is my profit.” If the gods would only send him a few more rich young asses like the Babe, he’'d soon quit the game. Then the true fun bega:, for it was really more comedy than race. Jockey Blake rode Amir, and “Scotty” Lewis was on Rocket. Now bear in mind that Amir's owner had backed Rocket, and Rocket’'s owner had backed Amir, and that jockeys generally recrive explicit think he’ll win?’ querled By Rita Helley part of a searching party instituted for the recovery of Miss Joanna Pendleton, lately disappeared from her aunt's es- tate. It was sundown, and they strolled along the river bank peering, one anx- iously the other politely, into every clump of overhanging bushes. ‘‘That she should have taken this day of all others to behave unseemly grieves me. I wanted her to make a good impression.” Miss Pendleton pat- ted the young man's arm. ‘“The two families have been so closely connected in friendship, I hoped—" “Take care, aunt. You're comin’ through.” “‘Oh!” Miss Pendleton started back with a little scream. “Where?” “Thin’ice,” commented the voice from below. “But—but where have you been, Jo? Are you all right?” quavered Miss Pen- dleton, peering through the shrubbery at the girl, sleeves rolled above her el- bows, sitting in the bow of a boat pulled up to shore. “All here,” came the answer. “But I want you to come up, Jo, and meet Mr. Wetmore. We've been look- ing for vou every place. You've given us such a scare.” “Can’t. I'm too busy.” She finished baiting her hook and cast out. Miss Pendleton took the gray-garbed, red-haired individual by the arm and walked him around the bushes before the girl. Her hat was lying in the bot- tom of the boat, and her brown hair, — fled high, gleamed gold in the sun. l"‘Ja. tflll ’: Mr. Wetmore,” she sald severely. The im-- eyes were fixed on the water at the point where the line dipped in. P Eeh. be stil! I think .I've got a bite,” she said. *“Oh, how do vou do, Mr. Wetmore?" she flashed a smile at him. “Take this line, will you?” He stepped down into the boat and reached toward her. Deftly she seized the oars and pushed off from shore. “There's a string of fish down that I couldn’t pull in by myself, announced. as he sat down hard. And the boat shot out into the stream. leaving Miss Pendleton amazed and horrified on the bank. It was clear and cool and moonlight when the regular creak of the oarlock floated over the stillness. A biz. flat boat, contalning two people, moved across the open and grated upon the apron at the boathouse. Lights streamed out the windows of the bix house at the top of the sioping lawn. He sprang lightly out and helped her. It took longer than was absolutely necessary. “I didn’t think then that you would ever care to Wet-more.” he drawled. / “If you ever leak, Guy Wet—Well, me to Wyoming!” She looked up the graveled path. “We dropped the fish Just as we pulled them out, and I'm ‘Miss Pendleton’ for ten days. Remem- ber that.” {nstructions from their owners, they go out, as to how th the race—always on masters: Blake t start would suit him ¢ meant to get away at three or four lengths the v start would be a good excuse ing been beaten Abdul couldn’t understand it. The few minutes at the starting post had always been more or less of a night- mare to him; the sahibs used such bad language and jostled so. He had al- ways star * tail end of the pro- cession, le 3 the front seats to the jocke y told him to move uf f] ed po- lite to ing in keeping e background, out of the other sllow's way The sahibs were r lot any- way, Abdul thous mad, all of them. When th fell Abdul cut out the running with Pegu at a furious clip. He would stay in front of the sahibs as long as he could. Blake took a pull at Amir's head. ‘“What are you wait- ing for called out Scotty on Rocket. “I thought it was a false start swered Blake, “seecing you hanging back there.” “Oh, the start’s all right,” said Scotty angri “Go o " “All right, come along then,” yelled Blake, letting go of A s head a Ilt- tle. They were the time the black b was slipping away from n. People in the stand, seeing the state of things, thought it was a false start, and bantered cheer- tully ove idiocy of the native boy, Abdul. “It doesn‘t make any differ- ence,” some aid; “Pegu had no chance anyv Tobyn saw the gray opening up & wide stretch of country between him- sclf and the other two horses and go- ing up to Lar congratulated him upon his persp “By Jove!" he exclaimed, “you're a good one at plck- ing them. o1l never catch Pegu now. I suppose you've backed him yourself 2" Larraby's face was a study, but the Babe didn't plored faces. Down on 4 notice this; he never ex- , Blake was swearing softly to e At last he spoke. “Why don’t you go on, Scotty? Car you see that native slipping away from 1gths the best “I'm ridin® 'cording to orders,” an- swered Scotty sulkily. “Go om your- selr.” “Did the old man order you to throw the ace away?” queried Blaks petulantly wrenching at Amir's mouth “He told m t to throw it away makin’ th in" fer you.” While they wrangled their horses jumped sideways, like a lady’s palfrey, because, their noses being pulled down on their chests, Abdul was stealing away into the distance like a soft, gray shadow. Luckily for him, he never looked back in any race so long as he was ahead, bt kept pegging away, like a true nati All the time he thought the sahibs were at his heels, ready for a surging rush as they swept Into “the straight.” And into “the straight,” and still no sign of the sahibs. What if his mount sheuld win! He had put ten rupees on him with the bookmakers. The odds, 30 to 1, had tempted him; besides, was it not the horse he was going to ride— and had he not ten rupees of confi- dence in himself? A serfous problem had opened up for the other two boys to consider. Be- cause of astral communication, Bidke knew that his employer would win if Rocket won; and Scotty also knew that Amir's winning would bemefit his master. Also were the jockeys In ti s same boat, becauss of arrangement. Then the third factor in the problem appeared, or, in point of fact, was dis- appearing — the native boy on Pegu, Blake saw this and realized that he would have to at least save second money. If Rocket would not go en he would, so he set sail for the leader. Seotty followed. They made up ground rapidly, but the gray hung om sur- prisingly. Would they ever catch him? In the stand the excitement was ter- rifle. Nobody had backed Pegu—mnobody but the Babe. It was the stand agalnst the Babe, the fast horses against the dead one, the jockeys against the na- tive boy. It was tragically unique, this race of the wise men against the lambs. Jump by jump Amir and Rocket re- duced the lead the gray outcast had. Abdul could hear something coming now — something thundering along behind him; still far enough away so that he need not pull out, as he had al- ways done. It was not far to the win- ning post—would the gray last? He thought of the 200 rupees he would win, and swore by Allah that he would give half of it in charity, iIf Allah would only breathe into the nostrils of the gray and fill his lungs with strength. The two jockeys were riding for sec- ond place now; that was about all they could see in it. The stand, mad with excitement, thought they were riding to win; though it was either rare horse- manship, this waiting race, or elsa sheer stupidity. If the native won, % would be stupldity; if either of the jockeys won, his backers would label it “splendid horsemanship.” It was stupidity. As the gray just tottered under the wire first, the other two finished like lions, nose and nose, in a dead heat for second money. Then pandemonium broke loose in the stand. all the backers’ money was burned up. No, not all! Babe Tobyn had 18,000 to draw out of the flames. There he stood, the only winner among all those clever racing men—the Babe. Imagination needs no word-prick to picture what the owners of Amir and Rocket thought and said. Down at the mess that night there was no hilarity when Babe Tobyn walked in; only the hush of awe. Such luck as that clear- Iy indicated the finger of Allah. He had passed through his novitiate, and they were abashed.