Hamilton's in front two lengths. A eighth from home I see
there's somethin' wrong with Micky. He's got his bat 'n' lines in his
left mitt. His right hook is kind-a floppin' at his side, but
Hamilton's runnin' true 'n' strong. The colt looks awful good to the
sixteenth 'n' then his gait goes clear to the bad. I see he's all shot
to pieces behind, 'n' he's stoppin' fast. I'm standin' at the inner
rail ten len'ths from the wire, 'n' the Elephant colt gets to Hamilton
right in front of me.
"'I gotcha, jock!' yells the boy on the Elephant.
"'They don't pay off here,' says Micky, 'n' sticks the lines in his
face. Then he goes to the bat with his south hook 'n' Hamilton lays
back his ears 'n' runs true again. . . . He out-games the Elephant a
nod at the wire 'n' I'm twelve hundred to the clear.
"When I gets to 'em, Micky's standin' in the track leanin' against
Hamilton. The colt's shakin' all over 'n' his hind feet's in a big
pool of blood. I gives a' look 'n' the left rear tendon is tore off
from hock to fetlock.
"'Good God, look at that!' I says to Micky.
"Micky turns 'n' looks.
"'Aw, pony . . .' he says, 'n' busts out cryin'. He leans up against
the colt again 'n' he's shakin' as bad as Hamilton.
"Just then the boy gets down from the Elephant.
"'I'd a beat that dog in another jump,' he says to Micky.
"'You?' says Micky. 'I'm goin' to _kill you_!' He starts fur the boy,
but he turns kind-a greeny white 'n' does a flop on the track.
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