A COUNTY GONE MAD 
girls, too, each accompanied by her best 
beau, who, with affected unconcern, de- 
voted his entire attention to handling 
his excited team. But not all the 
motor cars and carriages contained 
pretty girls. There were automobiles 
without number, and horse-drawn vehi- 
cles of all descriptions, jam full of 
men; not a few contained parties who 
had made a night of it, and as the day- 
light grew stronger, these presented 
sorry appearances. There was a far 
greater percentage of dirty collars in 
Nassau county that morning than there 
ever were before. But what of it? It 
was a time to let one’s self out a little. 
The sandwich venders were early 
abroad, scores of them, and a lone “hot 
547 
a compelling curiosity. And soon they 
were making themselves at home in an 
abandoned touring car a hundred yards 
back from the turnpike, for all the 
world like a pair of blue-birds inspect- 
ing a nesting place. And there they 
wisely remained throughout the whole 
race, nor knew at any time just what 
was going on, so busy were they enjoy- 
ing their stolen automobile “ride.” 
Dodge had secured seats in the 
grandstand, but we elected to remain 
on the ground for a while. By this 
time the race officials were abroad, and 
sleepy-eyed policemen and men carry- 
ing red flags were clearing the course. 
The sun, now well up, was peeping 
through the clouds and aiding the 

TRACY “AFTER SCALPS” 
tamale man” did a brisk business while 
his supply of tamales lasted. Then 
the program barkers appeared. People 
of all ages and stations flocked in. I 
was particularly interested to see the 
first little country girl arrive on foot. 
Of course the boys were on hand, long 
before me, and many little girls were 
already there in carriages with their 
parents. At last I saw her coming— 
two of her. They were little tots, 
about eight or ten years old, blue 
gowned, and came from across the field 
that stretched away behind the great 
grandstand. Shy they were, and hold- 
ing each other’s hand, but drawn on by 
gentle breeze to dissipate the morning 
mist. 
Then came Dodge’s office boy, his 
collar wretchedly soiled and his usual 
happy-go-lucky air displaced by a woe- 
begone expression. I told him to chirk 
up, that Dodge had really been expect- 
ing him. But he could not smile, and 
with his hand on his heart told us how 
he had got “a rib nearly broke” in the 
jam on the ferry-boat crossing the East 
river from Manhattan. He illustrated 
by placing his camera at his side, where 
he had held it to avoid losing it. On 
the train, he had been compelled to 
cling all the way on the steps of the 
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