352 R A C E A L N G 



on the bed without removing his clothes to wait for 

 them. In a few minutes he was asleep. 



The balance of his story was told me a few days 

 later in the front room of his home in St. Louis. I 

 called early in the morning and was told that Ed was 

 out getting his breakfast. He returned with a bottle 

 of whiskey and a dozen eggs in a paper bag. That 

 was his morning meal. 



His hands and face were covered with scabs and 

 for over an hour he talked of the gold cup race and 

 the San Francisco earthquake, the only interruption 

 being when he broke an egg in a glass, poured in 

 some whiskey, and drank it. 



*'When I rolled over on the bed in the Palace 

 Hotel," said Ed Sanders, 'T left the statement on 

 the table. I fell asleep and was dead to the world 

 until the bed seemed to be tossed half way across 

 the room while plaster was falling off the ceiling and 

 walls and the air so full of lime dust that I could 

 scarcely breathe or see. Jumping up I rushed to the 

 window to open it. As I approached it the glass was 

 shattered from the casing and came towards me. If 

 I had not unconsciously put up my hands to protect 

 my face the fragments would have in all probability 

 blinded me. Instead of that the splintering glass cut 

 my hands and a few hit my head, making wounds 

 wherever they touched. The fresh air rushing into 

 the room also gave me a chance to get my breath. 



"As soon as I got the lime dust out of my eyes I 

 looked out of the window. Buildings were falling 

 down on the other side of the street. No one was in 



