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EXPLOITS OF RED INDIAN Gilpin Tells of Charger That Had Little Chance to Run in Races- How Ho Finally Surprised with Runaway TIctory After He Had Been Given Away Going to llaccs in a Mourning Coach. P. P. Gilpin, writing in the London "Weekly Dispatch, continues the story of his escapades while in the military service in Ireland as follows: A horse I wanted to buy at the sales was Red Indian. I managed to obtain him for 75, and he was one of the most beautiful chargers I ever saw, as he certainly was the fastest. Unfortunately, Gen. Charles Frazer, V. C, a handsome and dignified man of great presence, with the manners of a grand seigneur, -who commanded the troops at . the Curragh in those days, disliked and disapproved of racing. The result was that during his period of command the military meeting at the Curragh did not take place. It was hard luck on me, as neither Barbarian could have lost the flat race nor Stockmar the hurdle race, while Red Indian was an absolute certainty for the chargers race. Not to be beaten, I got the soft side of our vertcrinary surgeon and had Red Indian placed on the sick list. Then surreptitiously I trained him for a small flat race at one of the ordinary Curragh meetings, which 1 had every reason to believe he would win. Gancral Interferes. But on the day he was to run the general said he would inspect the regiment This was indeed a blow, but there was nothing for it and Red Indian had to be produced. As he was my first charger I was obliged to ride him during the inspection. I need hardly say that jumping off over five furlongs three or four times a week was not exactly the sort of work to fit a naturally high couraged horse for the sober work of parade. However, I managed him all right and no one was ever the wiser except . the . veterinary surgeon and a couple of my most intimate friends. During the remaining couple of years of my soldiering, "Charley" Frazer, as he was called by his many friends, continued in command. We had no military meeting and Red Indian retired into private life with me. Several fellows were anxious to buy him as a charger, but none of them could ever manage to hold him, so he continued in my possession till a new general took up command at the Curragh. Then, thinking it was a pity his worth should be hidden under a bushel, I presented him to my old friend and brother officer Wengie Jones as I knew that he would ride him all right and give him a happy home. Entered in Chargers Race. When the military race meeting was resumed Wengie duly entered him in the chargers race. I had promised to go to a ball at Lisnaragh, Lord Rathdonnells place. In Carlow, the night before the race, and wo stayed with the Mitchells for it at Ballymure. I was determined to see the race, so I had one pony at Ballymure in a little Irish car that I had had purposely built for my wife, and another pony to meet us half way. After dancing all night and enjoying a few hours rest we started for the Curragh, arriving just in time for the race. Besides what I could get in the ring, which was not much, since Wengie had had a dash, I managed to get on 50 ready money. The Sixteenth Lancers were in Ireland at the time, and "Weasel" Orr Ewing and others in it heavily supported a horse belonging to Captain Chetwynd, a brother-officer of theirs. I forget the name of this horse, which had won several races and was trained by the afore-mentioned William Hilliard. But I never saw such an exhibition as the Red Indian made of him and the rest of the field. So speedy was he that he had them ali beaten in the first furlong. He ran clean away from them, winning by at least a furlong. Wengie had a good race, and afterward won several other flat races with him. 1 regret to say that he ultimately came to an untimely end and, shying at a tramway-car, he ran away with his groom and was killed. Goes to Sandown. One spring I found myself in command of tho Vedette troop at the Curragh, as my senior officer was on leave. This was a billet that suited me down to the ground. I was practically my own master, could ride out in the mornings and see to various strings of racehorses at work, and, when occasion offered, I could ride gallops and schooling myself. The Grand Military at Sandown came on and I gaily went off without beat of drum, merely giving my sergeant-major my address in case anything should turn up. Among others at that meeting I rode a horse called The Spy for "The Treasure," a slovenly, sulky beast despite the -0,000 he had cost. He fell with me at "the grave," as the regulation fence was named at that time. This ditch was cut absolutely straight, and there was no guard rail and no sign whatever on the take-off side to show its existence. The result was a rather badly fractured collar-bone and I had to wire for leave, which was granted. I returned some two weeks afterward and went riding too soon on a horse that pulled, with the result that my collar-bone was put out of place again. I was still tied up and had my arm in a sling when I arrived in Dublin on Easter Monday morning. This was one of the great days in Ireland. Fairyhouse, Avhich every one who could poc-sibly arrange to do so attended, took place that day. I met Judy Spicer, one of my brother-officers, in the hall of the United Service club, and arranged to go with him to Fairyhouse, on the understanding that we should drive, as I could not fight my way through the crowd with a broken collar-bone. Ryan, tho hall porter, averred that it was impossible to obtain a car or a carriage, because every conveyanco had ben engaged for months. I told him not to blather but to go out and get one, and he returned some time afterward saying he could not obtain one anywhere. So I sent hin out au-ain! This time he returned -.ith tho .nforma-tion that there was only one, and he knew I would not take it. I said that w.is where he made a mistake, as I would have it at nil costs. He thereupon replied: "It is a mourning coach." I said: "That is all right. Ill have it" It duly turned up a huge affair that looked as if it might have been a lord mayors coach painted black, with a platform behind to support a couple of footmen. I said to Judy: "We shall each want a cane, and Ill sit with my good arm next the window," for I knew that we should have relays of pedestrians eager for a free ride as was the case. "When they jumped on and had settled themselves we leaned out of the windows and gave them some sharp reminders witli the cane, usually so surprising them that they fell off into the road, to the delight cf those who were footing it to the course. Many Admirers. I have seen some funny equipages of divers kinds going to a race meeting, but never before or since have I seen a mourning coach commandeered for this form of pleasure. Needless to say, we. had. innumerable admirers and our appearance when we Irove up to the stand was hailed with de-lent, this demonstrating the truth of the otd Irish saying: "The more rakish, the more notice." The race at Fairyhouse I shall never forget. Being a great admirer of Garrett, Moores father, old John Hubert Moore, 1 fancied a grand horse he trained named Juggler, which I had often seen being schooled over the old racecourse at Halvers-town. He. was one of the best three-mile horses of his day and was ridden by the celebrated Mr. Thomas, who had ridden three winners of the Grand National. This was a combination that I could not withstand. So I backed it with all a boys enthusiasm. The pair Avon handsomely. Soots Grey In Steeplechase. I also remember one other occasion during my stay at Prior Park college, near Bath, when Mr. Moore brought over Scots Grey to run in the big steeplechase at Bristo. I had often seen this horse schooled at Halverstown. Scots Grey belonged to Major Browne, of the Greys, who had bought him out of the ranks for a paltry sum. Subsequently he became one of the best of the steeplechasers in England and Ireland. Knowing I had no chance of getting leave to go to the race I took French leave and managed to get there just in time. It was pouring in torrents. There were some five-or six-and-twenty runners. Garrett Moore rode Scots Grey. I can see the horse now, with a pair of blue cloth blinkers, his ears stuffed with cotton-wool, and a standing martingale, for he was a tricky old fellow and difficult to ride. I gave a man half a crown to let me stand on his stool and invested the remainder of my capital, half a sovereign, on Scots Grey, at 25 to 1. I think only four stood up. My selection, winning in splendid style, landed me 2.50 most useful in those early days. I returned to Prior Park wet to the skin but the proudest boy on earth, with never a qualm at the lecture and wholesome correction that I rightly expected to receive. Did I think of books again that term? Not likely. I thought of nothing else but the horse, the race and his rider.
