1st Heat: Trumps, 1st; Lizzette, 2nd; Ben Butler, 3rd; Trombine distanced. Time, 2:17½.
Then he heard a man swearing elegantly. It was Col. Troup. He was sitting in his sulky in front of the grand stand and talking to Travis and the genial Flecker:
“A most unprofessional thing, gentlemen,—damned unprofessional, sah, to shut me out. Yes, sah, to shut out a gentleman, sah, an' the first heat, sah, with his horse on a break.”
“What!” said Flecker excitedly—“you, Col'nel? Shut out—why, I thought it was the old pacer.”
“I swear I did, too, Colonel,” said Travis apologetically. “I heard something rattling and galloping along—I thought it was the old pacer and I drove like the devil to shut him out!”
“It was me, sah, me! damned unprofessional, sah; my mare throwed a boot!”
He walked around and swore for ten minutes. Then he quieted down and began to think. He was shut out—his money was gone. But—“By gad, sah,” he said cracking his whip—“By gad I'll do it!”
Ten minutes later as Ben Butler, cooled and calm, was being led out for the second heat, Col. Troup puffed boisterously up to the Bishop: “Old man, by gad, sah, I want you to use my sulky and harness. It's a hundred pounds lighter than that old ox-cart you've got. I'm goin' to he'p you, sah, beat that pair of short dogs that shets out a gentleman with his horse on a break, sah!”
And that was how the old man drew first blood and came out in a new sulky and harness.
How proud Ben Butler seemed to feel! How much lighter and how smoothly it ran!