202 The American Thoroughbred 



galaxy of radiant beauty in the stands, Gray Eagle 

 kept up his murderous rate throughout the entire 

 second mile ; Wagner lay up close, and there was 

 no faltering, no flinching, no giving back, on the 

 part of either. The stride was over twenty-two 

 feet, perfectly steady, strong, and regular, with no 

 dwelling, no floundering, no laboring. Gray Eagle 

 made the running to beyond the half-mile post on 

 the third mile, and the pace seemed too good to 

 last, but there were ' links ' yet to be ' let out.' 

 From this point the two cracks made a match of 

 it, in which Queen Mary had as little apparent 

 concern as if out of the race. Near the Oakland 

 House Wagner set to work to do or die. ' Rowel 

 him up ! ' shouted his owner to Cato ; while Gar- 

 rison, at the head of the quarter-stretch, was wav- 

 ing his hat to him to come on ! The rally that 

 ensued down the descent to the turn, was desper- 

 ate, but Wagner could not gain an inch ; as they 

 swung round into the quarter-stretch they were 

 lapped ; ' spur your proud coursers hard and ride 

 in blood ! ' were the orders on this, as they are 

 described to have been on Bosworth ' field.' Both 

 horses got a taste of steel and catgut as they 

 came up the ascent, and on casting our eye along 

 the cord extending across the course from the 



