lyben S abator beat Tenny 433 



attempts to throw up the race and be through 

 with it. Garrison draws his whip and gives his 

 stubborn mount a stinging blow. In a moment 

 Tenny has forgotten his stable, forgotten that he 

 wants to stop, and is once more struggling after 

 the leader. That was a most disastrous stop, 

 little Tenny, but bravely do you seek to right the 

 wrong ! 



" The first mile is now covered. Salvator is 

 fhree good lengths in front. The race seems a 

 gift to the leader, for surely no horse can make 

 up such a gap with Salvator before him. And 

 now there begins one of the most extraordi- 

 nary races ever seen on the turf — Tenny's fight 

 down that last quarter. He begins it at the mile. 

 Foot by foot he is lessening the terrible, hopeless 

 chasm that yawns before him. You can almost 

 see the muscles straining; you can almost feel 

 the quick gasps through those red nostrils. It is 

 a long line of princely blood that is telling, the 

 blood of the thoroughbred, which always tells in 

 man or brute, and which is never so great as 

 when there is a hopeless fight to be fought. 



" They have reached the point from which 

 they started, now, and Murphy is only a length 

 and a half ahead, Tenny gaining with every 



