Gay's and Carlton Mackrell's horses were both at "scratch," but were drawn to start in different heats, the first heat being with Carlton Mackrell's horse scratch.
Ten horses were in this heat, the limit horse a raw-boned, uneven-gaited trotter, ridden by a small boy in shirt sleeves, who, the moment the pistol went off, bolted with the boy, and tried to jump the rails, but was brought back, and finished the heat last, amidst the jeers of the public.
Mackrell's horse trotted very fast and steadily, his toe weights flashing in the sun, and without a slip or waver, without any urging, overtook one horse after the other, had them all beaten before the last turn, and jogged the winner in twenty lengths in front. Time: 3 minutes 30 seconds.
As Gay's horse had never been able to do a trial for the distance faster than 3 minutes 36 seconds (all out), she felt very despondent, much to the delight of Lossie, who had arrived with the ruffled Professor in tow, and who hoped that Gay would get such a beating that day as to sicken her of the sport for the remainder of her life.
Rensslaer and Carlton vied with each other in their attention to, and care of, the downcast Gay, as they watched the next heat, in which none of their party had horses. A hobbled pacer was the limit horse, and bore the name of Birmingham Joe, although he looked a typical common American, and English horses are not pacers; he won, after a most desperate finish, by a short head in 3.36.
This horse, therefore, was equal to Gay's in speed, and with a start of 200 yards over hers, would have a great advantage if he got into the final, as he would not have to come through his horses, and although he seemed very stiff and old, such horses often improve in speed in later heats, if they are kept moving between heats. Most likely, said Rensslaer, he had a low record in the States about "the time of the flood," and might get some of that speed back when he got warmed up, and worked the stiffness out of his old legs.
Between the second and third heats there was a curious exhibition of the Guidless trotter, Gold Ring by Wild Brino, Mr. Wilkinson, the owner, leading the old stallion out with a surcingle, overhead check, and side reins, like a circus horse, then taking him fifty yards down the stretch, turned him to face the starter, and walked away, the horse standing like a statue.
At the report of the pistol he darted off on a strong trot, and not cutting the grass corners, but keeping fairly on the track, he trotted the full two laps for the miles in 2.24, mane and tail flying, finishing with a spurt at his top speed.
As he passed the wire the bell was rung, when he at once pulled up, turned slowly round, and jogged up to Mr. Wilkinson, who was waiting for him.
"Isn't that pretty?" cried Gay warmly, and forgetting all her nervous fears as they went over to look at the big chestnut stallion, with very high action, that won the Richmond (Surrey) Horse Show Pace and Action Class some years ago.