'
"There's six entries, but the race is between Rainbow and Macbeth from
the get-away. Macbeth is a black hoss, 'n' I never believed till then a
hunter could romp that fast. He was three len'ths ahead of the field at
the first fence, with Rainbow right at his necktie. They gets so far
ahead, nobody sees the other starters from the second fence on. Mr. Van
rides just like I tells him, 'n' lets the black hoss make the pace.
Man!--that hunter did run! Towards the end both hosses begin to tire,
but the clip was easier fur the thoroughbred, 'n' I see Rainbow's got the
most left.
"Before they come to the last fence Mr. Van turns his hoss loose like I
tells him, 'n' he starts to come away from Macbeth. My! but those swells
did holler! They never thought Rainbow has a chance. At the last fence
he's a len'th in front, 'n' right there it happens Mr. Van don't take
hold of him enough to keep his head up, 'n' he blunders at the fence 'n'
comes down hard on his knees. Mr. Van slides clear to the hoss's ears,
'n' the crowd gives a groan as Macbeth comes over 'n' goes by.
"'He's gone!' I says to myself, 'n' I can't believe it when he gets back
in the saddle somehow 'n' starts to ride. But the black hoss has a good
six len'ths 'n' now two hundred yards to go.
"'He'll never reach . . .' I says out loud. 'He'll never reach . . .'
"Then Rainbow begins his stretch-run with the blood comin' out of his
knees, 'n' while he's a tired hoss, a gamer one never looks through a
bridle.
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