ts to sing "Zobia Grassa," and Al
Holbrook has promised to teach them a Venetian dances.

Harry offered us four winners in the first race and two cigars. He
told us if we lost to smoke the cigars carefully and we'd forget
our troubles and our names; but if we won we could use the cigars
as firecrackers.

Then we ran across Jeff D'Angelis, the composer of the new tune now
played on the automobile horns.

Jeff hadn't picked out a horse to win any race because his loyalty
to sneeze-wagons is so intense that he won't even drink a horse's
neck.

He explained that he only came to the race track to show the horses
his smoke-buggy and make them shiver.

George Yates, the inventor of the machinery for removing sunburn
from pickles, was there and he tried to present us with a sure
winner in the third race.

A little later on we discovered that the horse Yates was doing a
rave over had been dead for four years and that the card from which
he was lifting his dope was the program of the meet at Sheepshead
in 1896.

Some kind and thoughtful stranger had lifted fifty cent| from
George's surplus and in return had stung him with an ancient echo
of the pittypats.

Our next adventure was with Joe Miron, the famous horse trainer and
inventor of the only blue mare in captivity at Elmhurst.

"Say, why didn't I see you guys before the first race; I had a
plush-covered pipe!" yelled Joe.

"I had that race beat to a stage wait," Joe went on,
enthusiastically. "Why, all you had to do was play 'The Goblin
Man' to win and 'Murderallo' for a place--it was just like getting
money from the patent medicine business."

"How much did you win, Joe?" I inquired.

"Who, me!" Joe came back. "Why I didn't get here in time to place
a bet. I drove over from Elmhurst and the blue mare burst a tire.
But, say, I've got a mother's darling in the third race! Oh, it's
a ladybug for certain! You guys play 'Perhaps' to win and you'll
go home looking like Pierp Morgan after a busy day. It can't lose,
this clam can't! Say, that horse 'Perhaps' wears gold-plated
overshoes and it can kick more track behind it than any ostrich you
ever see! Why,| it's got ball-bearing castors on the feet and it
wears a naphtha engine in the forward turret. Get reckless with
the coin, boys, and go the limit, and if the track happens to cave
in and it does lose, I'll drag you down to Elmhurst behind the blue
mare and make the suction pump in the backyard do an imi