A GREAT HORSE 



wife pulled him quietly by the sleeve, and told him 

 "he was makin' a fool of hisself." 



Sometimes he grabbed some unknown brother 

 around the neck and attempted to dance an improvised 

 two-step, in which was neither beauty, rhythm nor 

 meter, and with arms entwined they leaped up and 

 down and slapped each other across the back and 

 shrieked into each other's face words which neither 

 understood, but which were intelligible to both. 



It was a great day for the horsemen. It was 3:15 

 o'clock when the champion was led out to make his 

 attempt to lower the Kansas City track record. He 

 had already been jogged several times around the 

 track, and everybody had had a good look at him. Few 

 in the great audience had ever seen the champion be- 

 fore, and agreed with the small boy, who left the 

 grounds remarking disgustedly : "Aw, he's a stiff. W'y, 

 me brudder's paper pony kin beat him." He should 

 have stayed. As the champion was led past the club 

 house everybody felt that there was something in the 

 air. Society stopped its chatter of small talk. The 

 horseman quieted his wife with a pinch and craned his 

 neck far over to see the better. Then Mr. Emory J. 

 Street, president of the Kansas City Driving Park 

 Club, called Ketcham up to the judge's stand. He made 

 a happy little speech introducing Ketcham and Cres- 

 ceus, and everybody cheered. Then they demanded a 

 speech, and Ketcham said : "Ladies and gentlemen : 

 My work is not in talking, but in performing. The 



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