MORVICH 



or other! 



"Bide your time," advised Mother Hymir. 

 "If there is anything in those funny legs of 

 yours, your chance to beat Runstar in the only 

 way open to a thoroughbred will come. He's 

 a good-looking colt, but — beauty is as beauty 

 does." 



One other consolation I received was from 

 Mose, a runty little Negro stable boy, himself 

 a cull, who loved me, and used to sneak up to 

 me sometimes with a lump of sugar or an 

 apple core. 



"No thin' in a name, honey boy," he said 

 one day. "Look at dat Johren." 



Johren, it seems, was a colt in Harry Payne 

 Whitney's stables at one time, the shaggiest, 

 most unkempt colt imaginable. His coat would 

 not come out even, nor take a shine. When 

 it came time to name him for the thoroughbred 

 register Mr. Whitney recalled an occasion 

 when he had halted at a roadhouse for water 

 for his car. It was a ramshackle place, down- 



—17— 



