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PATHOS OF THE RACE TRACK Interesting Romance of the Turf of Other Days with a Happy Conclusion. "The bigsest and best chap I ever knew about the race courses," said a veteran racing man, "was Dave. A squarer man never stepped in shoe leather, and how he loved his parents and sister! His one ambition in life was to win money enough to make them comfortable. A dozen times he had a snug sum put by, but whenever he took the final plunge which would win enough to give him the amount he considered necessary the fates turned traitor. It was the same with the stock market, too nothing stood for him. There was a place in Canada near where Dave was born which hi3 mother had always admired. It was known locally as The Pines. Dave had long regarded the place with covetous eyes. The broad manor house of white brick and the red roof were conspicuous for miles, and when the train from New York bore him home for Christmas Dave told me it was the view which fascinated him most He said that he had .ilways hoped to be able to own it some time, and one winter when he was home he confided his ambition to his parents and sister. The place was for sale at the time. "He had bought for a couple of hundred dollars the previous autumn," resumed the speaker, "an undersized yearling by a horse that was regarded in Kentucky as having more speed than stamina. Nobody thought enough of the colt to bid for him, and my friend Day got him practically without opposition. He turned him over to a friend to train, and among the hundreds of colts and fillies being1 broken in September he was not heard of, all eyes being centered on the gallops of the youngsters from the big stables which every year furnish 90 per cent of the stake material. One morning, however, before sunup, Destruction that wasnt his name, but it meant the same thing got away from the boy and worked an eighth through the stretch that made the trainer think his watch was playing pranks on him. DESTRVUCTIOIT CHEW AMAZINGLY. "He told Dave about it. Fearful lest anybody should see a repetition of the fast trial they took the colt to Monmouth Park course in New Jersey, a portion of which was still utlized for training purposes, and there Destruction showed that the trainers watch told no lies. Then and there a plan of action was agreed upon. The winter was to fce spent in the endeavor to form the runt nto a race horse of size and power. Dave 8pont the bulk of the season in New Jersey, and we saw little of him around old Gilsey House, where he could always be found evenings when he was in town. Destruction grew amazingly, and one fine afternoon in March, when I was asked to go down and look him over, I didnt recognize in the stout, high-headed colt the weakling of a few months before. "The days were warm from 10 oclock to 3 on the Jersey coast and the sandy soil enabled the colt to be out on the track much sooner than any of the thoroughbreds on Long Island, and as a consequence when the season opened Destruction was ready for the fray. The trainer was anxious to start him in an overnight race, but Dave was patience itself and the meetings at Morris Park and Gravesend passed without Destruction sporting silks. My friend wagered carefully all the way through both meetings, and when it came to Sheepshead Bay he was a winner to the extent of perhaps 0,000. There was a stake on the grass for two-year-olds to be run there, and as Destruction was eligible for it the trainer breezed him one morning on the turf and found that he had a colt that could run faster even on the turf than over the dirt course, a most desirable condition, as any racing man will tell you. OMINOUS NUMBER 13. "The night before the race Dave came to me," continued the narrator, "and handed me ,000, asking me to put it on Destruction the next day, regardless of price. He counseled me at the same time to have a good bet down for myself, but, as the Keene and Belmont stables were represented by their best colts, youngsters which had won good laces, I was skeptical and began to argue with him. He held up a warning hand and, knowing that my arguments would fall on deaf ears, I desisted. I got an average of 8 to 1 for the money the next afternoon and found Dave perched high in the grandstand in a seat he generally occupied when he was betting a chunk. I handed him the sheaf of tickets, remarking: 0,000 to ,000, but he waved them back and pulled his hat lower over his eyes and watched the colts as they came trooping from the paddock on their way to the post. There was a bakers dozen of them, and Destruction wore the ominous number 13 upon his saddle cloth. He was number one at the post, however, and when they got away it was before the day of the starting gate Destruction beat the flag and showed in the van as the field bunched for the run up the backstretch. Lower tilted the hat and the big, knotty hands were clinched till the white knuckles seemed ready to start the skin. The strong jaws were firmly set. " Keep him up, boy ; dont let them pocket you. he whispered half aloud. At the turn two colts challenged determinedly, and Destructions rider, a mulatto, gave the colt two smart, blows of the whip. Head and head the trio, came on, nose and nose and cheek by jowl they bounded into the straight, horses and riders struggling nobly. Destruction was still on the rail, and in making the turn he had the advantage of his competitors. His splendid head was thrust far forward as he ran, and when the stretch was well entered his adversaries were straight as a string. Inch by inch he forged to the front, and when, the finishing line was reached Destructions neck and shoulders showed clear to the girths. "I looked at Dave in those last strides. He sat as though turned to stone until the numbers went up, and then two great teara raced down his checks and splashed upon his big hands, which were closing and unclosing convulsively. " Come on, he muttered, 1 want to send a message. "When we reached the telegraph office he seized a pen and tried to write, but his hand would not be controlled. He passed the pen to me, saying, "Write. " To Mrs. Charles " , Canada. " Destruction has won and The Pines is ours. "Im not ashamed to confess that as I signed his name a tear or two dropped from somewhere and the blank was wet when it reached the hand of the operator, to whom it meant nothing. "I hadnt won a quarter on the race, but I had been up to Daves home and had hear J them all talk about The Pines, and I had a mental picture of the trio, father, mother and daughter, when that message came announcing the victory of Destruction." New York Sua,
