Down the line with John Henry

by George V. Hobart

I said yes, and all the while I was scrapping with a lump in my throat the size of my fist.

When the horses got away with Pretty Boy in front I started in to stand on my head, but changed my mind and swallowed half the program.

Pretty Boy at the quarter! Me for Rector's till they put the shutters up!

Pretty Boy at the half! Me down to Tiffany's in the morning dragging tiaras away in a dray!

Pretty Boy at the three-quarter pole! Me doing the free library gag all over the place!

But just as they came in the stretch Pretty Boy forgot something and went back after it.

The roach quit me cold at the very door of the safety deposit vaults.

I was under the water a long time.

Finally I heard Clara Jane saying, "Isn't it lucky you didn't bet on this race. I believe you would have picked that foolish looking horse that stopped over there to bite the fence!"

"I'm done! turn me over!" I murmured, and then I rushed down among the ramblers and made a swift touch for the price of a couple of rides home.