CHAPTER III 

 THE RACE FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP 



At Baltimore 't was, in the autumn late. 



"Parole and Ten Broeck" were on every lip, 

 When the East and the West their issues joined 

 In the final race for the championship 



T was Ten Broeck led, three lengths ahead; 



With Ochiltree second, they swept past the stand; 

 For two miles they speed. Ten Broeck in the lead, 



Parole in the rear, but running in hand. 



The pace becomes fast, Tom Ochiltree 's last; 



They straighten for home at the three-quarter pole. 

 As the stand fairly shook with "Come on. Ten Broeck!" 



Then we hear a shrill cry of "Look at Parole!" 



There rises a cheer as he steals from the rear. 



Now he 's closing the gap, as the cheering proceeds, 

 "Now he 's at Ten Broeck's side" — they race stride for stride 

 "Now he 's gaining" — "he 's closing" — "by heaven, he leads!" 



From the head of the stretch, to the field, to the stand, 

 'Mid tossing of hats, roll the deafening cheers; 

 "Ten Broeck 's beaten," they cry, as up goes Walker's whip — 

 Parole gallops home gaily pricking his ears. 



Oh, was n't he "cockey," that Lorillard jockey. 



As he rode back to scale, to the judge raised his whip. 

 "Weight 's correct," said the clerk. "All right," from the stewards. 

 Parole wins the race for the championship. 



Parole, Ten Broeck and Tom Ochiltree. 



C^o] 



