MORVICH 



I became more deeply despondent. Why not? 

 I knew from stable conversation that there is 

 a race of men who deal in race horses as in 

 stocks and bonds, for speculative purposes only. 

 I had won a race; it was worth gambling a bit 

 upon me. And so I was sold to Fred Burlew 

 for $7,500. 



And yet when this newest owner sent me 

 to the barrier there at Jamaica May 16, ten 

 days after my first race, there was nothing in 

 my heart except once more a desire to win, to 

 prove myself anew, and so, perhaps, to earn 

 that master's love for which I craved. Jockey 

 Ensor rode me. And I was off to a long lead 

 and never let down. A month later, June 17 

 to be exact, I ran again under Jockey Keogh 

 at Aqueduct, outclassed the field, and won 

 galloping. 



So far I had run against only indifferent 

 horses. They were beautiful, some of them 

 possessing all the graceful lines I was said to 

 lack. But they were not the class of racers, 



—28— 



