they might be eternal "buddies"--certainly if he had his way; and toward
this achievement he had been, since graduating from the University of
Virginia, directing every effort to build up a stock farm which his
family had more or less indifferently carried for generations. Next to
winning Nell, his greatest ambition was to raise a Derby
winner--according to him a more notable feat than being President.

The sixth of April, 1917, had caught him with a promising string of
yearlings, each an aristocrat in the equine world of blue-bloods, each a
hope for that most classic of American races. But he had thrown these
upon the hands of a trainer and submerged his personal interests six
hours after Congress declared war. At the same moment, indeed, all of
Kentucky was turning to a greater tradition than that of "horses and
whiskey"; and, by the time the draft became operative, the board of one
county searched it from end to end without finding a man to
register--because those in the fighting age, married or single, with
dependents or otherwise, had previously rushed to the Colors. This, and
the fact that his state, with three others, headed the nation with the
highest percentage in physical examinations, added luster to the shield
of his old Commonwealth--though he roundly insisted that 'twas not
Kentucky's manhood, but her womanhood, who deserved the credit. After
our cruise he was going back to the thoroughbreds, now within a few
months of the required Derby age; and of course I had promised to be on
hand at Churchill Downs when his colors flashed past the grandstand.

Late in the afternoon the _Whim_ docked at Key West and, while Gates was
ashore arranging for our clearance, Tommy and I ambled up town in search
of daily papers. We were seated in the office of a rather seedy hotel
when its proprietor approached, saying:

"'Scuse me, gents,--are you from that boat down there?"

I answered in the affirmative.

"Going to Havana?"

This, too, I admitted.

"Well, there's a feller by the desk who missed the steamer, and he
hoped--er----"

"We'd take him over," Tommy supplied the halting words. "Where is he?"

Turning, we easily distinguished the man by his timid glances in our
direction.

"Whiz-bang," Tommy whispered. "What the deuce would you call it, Jack?"

Except for his age, that might have been sixty, he was most comical to
look upon--in stature short and round, suggesting kinship with a gnome.
His head seemed to