314 TALES OF THE TURF. 



early, so he was not broken until last summer). He is by 

 a game, fast horse out of a game, fast mare, knows 

 nothing but trot, and I've seen him go fast for a green 

 horse. 



I have driven him daytime and night, and he never 

 made a wrong move with me, but a drunken stableman 

 fell out of the cart in one of his nightly sprees, and the 

 colt ran home and stood all night in the shafts. I found 

 him the next morning — the "bum" who drove him I did 

 not look for. Afterward I drove him repeatedly. Then 

 when I took sick the new stableman drove him, and he 

 (the stableman) was sober. The colt jumped, in play, I 

 suppose, in turning a corner, and the sober stableman fell 

 out, so my pet Wyokee ran away again to the stable and 

 waited to be unhitched. He never raised a foot to kick, 

 nor lost a hair. I had Tom Gallagher drive him since, 

 and he says he couldn't make him do a wrong thing. But 

 there is trouble in the "old man's" house. The stableman 

 is afraid, the household is afraid, and "Benny" is sick, so 

 the colt has to be sold, I suppose on the theory that he is 

 surely bound to kill somebody, and my folks want that 

 somebody to be somebody else — Christian spirit, isn't it? 

 But it is the truth, and I sell him with the chances, after 

 telling the facts. 



I wouldn't catalogue all this gush for anyone else, be- 

 cause printing costs — possibly more than Wyokee is worth 

 — but I'm playing myself a favorite now, and it will be 

 printed — unless Tipton kills it, which I wouldn't blame 

 him for doing. I'll agree to say no more about Wyokee, 

 even if I'm at the sale when he is hammered. As George 

 Bain says, "You take him like you take your girl — for 

 better or for worse." 



