Kitobni o'qish: «Checkers: A Hard-luck Story»

I

I had never before attended the races. "The sport of kings" is not popular in Boston, my former home, but here in Chicago every one turns out on Derby Day, if at no other time. And so, catching something of the general enthusiasm, my friend Murray Jameson, who by the way is something of a sport, and I, who by the same token am not, found ourselves driving a very smart trap out Michigan avenue, amidst a throng of coaches, cabs, breaks and buggies, people and conveyances of every description – beautiful women beautifully costumed, young men, business men, toughs and wantons – all on their way to Washington Park, and all in a fever of excitement over the big race to be run that afternoon – the great American Derby.

"Now Jack," said Murray, as in due process we reached our box and sat gazing at the crowds about and below us, "it strikes me that we should have a small bet of some sort on the different races, just to liven things up a bit. What say we go down into the betting ring and have a look at the odds?"

"As you like," I answered, rising to show my willingness; "but you will have to do the necessary, I do n't know one horse from another."

"The less you know the more apt you are to win," said Murray airily; "but if you say so, I 'll make one bet for both of us, share and share alike. No plunging goes to-day though, Jack; we do n't want to gamble. We 'll have up a couple of dollars, just to focalize the interest. If we lose it won't amount to much, and if we win – we win.

"But just a word of warning before we go down. Keep your eye on your watch and your money, or you 'll get 'touched;' and if we should chance to be separated in a crowd, be careful not to let anyone 'tout' you."

Now, if there 's one thing I am especially proud of, it is my ability to take care of myself in any company, and Murray's patronizing manner, in view of my professed ignorance, rather galled me.

"The man who gets my watch or money is welcome to it," I answered shortly, buttoning my coat about me as we walked along; "and as for being 'touted' – well, I 'll try to take care of that."

Whether to be 'touted' was to be held up, buncoed, or drugged and robbed, I had no definite notion; but I took it to be a confidence game of some sort and despised it accordingly.

Just here, following Murray, I elbowed my way into the hottest, best-natured, most conglomerate crowd it was ever my lot to mingle with. Merchants, clerks and gilded youths, laborers, gamblers, negroes, and what-not, money in hand, pushed, pulled and trod upon each other indiscriminately in their efforts to reach the betting stands.

The book-makers, ranged along in rows, stood on little platforms in front of their booths, taking the crowd's money and calling out the amount and nature of each bet to assistants within who scratched off and registered corresponding pool-tickets which were quickly returned to the struggling bettors.

On a blackboard at the end of each booth were posted the names of the horses with their jockeys. Against these names the book-makers chalked up their figures, increasing or lessening the odds from time to time as the different horses were fancied or neglected in the betting.

"There 's nothing in this race but Maid Marian," said Murray, scanning the blackboards critically; "but 4 to 5 is the best I see on her, and I want even money or nothing" – the which was largely Greek to me until by questioning and deduction I found the situation in English to be as follows:

Maid Marian was judged on breeding and past performance to be much the best horse in the race, so much so that although about to run with five or six other racers, the book-makers demanded odds from those who bet on her in the ratio of 5 to 4.

When I asked Murray why they did not offer $1 to $1.25 he replied that "halves and quarters did n't go," and pointed out a sign which read: "No bets taken under $5." There were several smaller "books," however, which took $2 bets, and did a thriving business.

The crowd by this time had become absolutely dense. Murray was suddenly dragged away by a current in the mob which set towards a book-maker who had chalked up "even money, Maid Marian."

I followed long enough to see the "booky" change again to "4 to 5" before Murray reached him; and then, believing myself about to be crushed to death, I forced my way to the edge of the ring and stood hoping that my friend would do likewise.

A very "horsey" individual, wearing an owner's badge, and a most disreputable-looking negro were discussing the forthcoming race just behind me.

"Dat Maid Marian ain't got no license to win dis race – a mile 's too fah fo' her, suah," said the darkey. "Sister Mary 'll win – dat 's who 'll win."

"Naw! naw!" drawled the other. "Senator Irby 'll come purty near gettin' de coin, wid Peytonia fer an outside chance. I see Peytonia work a mighty fast mile yesterday mornin', and I 'm jes' takin' a flyer on her to win today for luck."

I glanced at the nearest blackboard – Peytonia 200 to 1!!!

Would they dare to lay such odds against a horse that had even the slightest chance of winning? It seemed most unlikely, and yet – I hesitated. There must be a possibility, or why was the horse in the race? My sporty-looking friend had said she was fast and had bet upon her himself. Perhaps I had chanced upon some inside information; and, after all, $2 was not a very serious matter whether I won or lost.

I started toward the betting stand, but suddenly stopped short. No, Murray was to make one bet for both of us, and had undoubtedly done what he thought was best – I would abide by his judgment.

But did he know what I knew – where could he be?

The crowd, which was now surging out of the betting ring toward the fence and up into the grand stand, thinned out rapidly; but I held my place, hoping to catch sight of Murray.

"Come on here and make your bets," yelled the book-makers, with whom business had begun to grow slack; "they 're at the post – they 'll be off in a minute."

I accepted the invitation. Rushing up to the nearest stand, I handed up two silver dollars. "Peytonia," I said, with all the nonchalance I could assume.

"Peytonia," repeated the book-maker; "four hundred to two," and in a moment more I was the possessor of a fantastically-colored piece of card-board, on which was scribbled in pencil "Peyt. – 400-2."

Suddenly there was a roar of excitement.

"They 're off," was the cry from a thousand throats, and I and the other tardy ones rushed to find a favorable spot from which to view the race.

I had n't time to hunt up our box; so making for the fence, I forced my way in next to the rail just as the horses, all in a bunch, swung recklessly around the first turn.

As the race progressed they began to string out, one horse very clearly taking the lead.

"The Maid's in front, Senator Irby second," yelled an enthusiast just beside me. "Where's Sister Mary? Maid Marian 's quittin'. There 's Flora Thornton. Go on, you Flora. Maid Marian 's out of it. The Senator 's leadin'. Flora is second. Just look at Peytonia.

I leaned over the rail, my heart in my mouth. Down the stretch they came at a terrible pace; some three were in front, running almost as one. In a breath they were by us and under the wire, but which of the three was first I could not determine.

Instantly there was a babel of voices, in which Senator Irby, Peytonia and Flora Thornton were severally declared to have won, and a general movement toward the judges' stand was inaugurated for the purpose of learning "the official."

I had scarcely gone a dozen yards before I ran across Murray, viciously elbowing his way through the crowd.

There was something so irresistibly funny in the expression of rueful chagrin which sat upon his good-natured face, that I forgot my excitement and began to laugh immoderately.

"Now, what do you think of that for luck?" he exclaimed on catching sight of me; "Senator Irby, a stake-horse, to be beaten out by an old dog like Peytonia? It's enough to – "

"Peytonia!" I echoed breathlessly, "did Peytonia win?"

"Of course she won. Did n't you see the race?"

For a moment I simply could n't speak, but clasping the tighter my precious ticket, I swallowed heroically at the lump in my throat, while Murray, unmindful of my silence, continued.

"You see, Jack, after I left you, I got it straight from a friend of mine that Maid Marian was out of condition, which left the race, it seemed to me, a walk-over for Senator Irby. Well, it looked like a good chance to make a 'killin',' and I put twenty on him at two and a half to one. Of course I could n't figure on getting nosed out by a hundred to one shot, but that's the luck I always play in. Well, I 'll get it back on the third race; I've got a 'cinch' in that. You understand though, Jack," he added, stopping suddenly, "you have only a dollar's interest in the losing – I had no right to bet but $2, as was originally agreed."

Just here I foresaw a peculiar complication, and I was glad that, in my desire to appear properly nonchalant, I had not as yet announced my good fortune.

"Why, Murray," I exclaimed, slipping my ticket into my pocket, "you are absolutely absurd. We agreed to share and share alike in the day's transactions, and I shall insist upon it. Suppose Senator Irby had won instead of losing, would you have offered me but a dollar's interest in the winning, simply because I did n't know you were going to bet so much?"

"Of course not, you should have had your half; but that is a very different thing."

"Different in result perhaps, but not in principle; besides, come to think of it, I made a little bet myself."

"You did – how much?"

"Oh, only $2."

"Two dollars, eh? Well! That makes us twenty-two out altogether. Eleven apiece, if you insist upon it, although – "

"I do insist upon it; so that's settled, and now – "

"By the way, Jack, what did you bet on?"

This was the moment of my triumph Handing him the ticket with an air of assumed carelessness, I covertly watched with keenest relish his changes of expression, as he ran the gamut of varied emotion from idle indifference to supreme excitement.

"Jack!" he exclaimed at last, grabbing my arm. "Jack, my boy! Did you know – " Just here I laughed and gave the thing away, and then we both laughed, while Murray improvised superlative similes anent my luck, and upbraided me for my duplicity.

"Ahem! two dollars – twenty-two out – eleven apiece, eh, Murray?" I chuckled mockingly. "Come on now, old man, and show me how to cash this ticket;" and we made our way toward the betting ring.

We experienced no delay in getting the money, as not one in a thousand had won on the race, and the cashiers at the back of the stands had little or nothing to do.

I found great difficulty, however, in making Murray accept his rightful half of the spoils; but out of his own mouth I judged him, and in the end prevailed.

The next race, the second, we decided not to bet upon, as the horses were, according to Murray, only a lot of "selling-platers," and we needed a little respite from the crowd.

So we sought our box, and in highest spirits sat watching the masses surge to and fro, while the freshening breeze blew strong and cool, and brought up dark clouds which looked like rain.

"The race after this is the Derby, you know," said Murray, glancing at his programme. "Now I do n't want to influence you, old man, but I really believe that Domino will win. He's the best horse in the race, and with Taral to ride him he ought to be first under the wire. This time, though, you shall bet for yourself, as you have the proverbial beginner's luck. Ah, they're off! By Jove! that's a beautiful start."

"Selling-platers" or not, the second race was a pretty one and I enjoyed it thoroughly, from start to finish.

Is there any more pleasurable or intensely interesting sight than that of a well-appointed race between a number of sleek-limbed thoroughbreds? The multi-colored satins of the plucky little jockeys, the whitened fences and the trim greensward lend a picturesqueness; the buzz and hum of the restless, pushing, ill-assorted crowd adds an excitement to an ensemble, in my opinion, altogether fascinating.

II

And now for the Derby – the great stake race worth so many thousands of dollars to the winner; the much-talked-of race, in which the most noted horses in the country, East and West, were to compete for supremacy in fleetness and endurance, and the most celebrated jockeys to vie with each other in their peculiar generalship.

Leaving our box, we joined in the crush and forced our way into the betting-ring. The crowd was enormous, the interest intense. One had but to listen for a moment to hear every horse in the race enthusiastically spoken of as "sure to win."

As it was simply useless in that crush to try to keep together, Murray and I decided to go our several ways, and meet in good time at a place agreed upon.

Now, although I had said nothing about it, I had quite decided not to bet upon this event. I had found the second race upon which I had no bet infinitely more enjoyable than the first, despite the good fortune chance had thrust upon me; and reasonably so, I think, for with any kind of a wager up one's interest naturally centers in the performance of one horse, and the beauty of the race, as a race, is to a great extent lost sight of.

With something of this idea in mind, I stood watching the frantic efforts of the crowd to reach the betting stands, wondering idly the while where all the money so recklessly offered came from in these days of universal hard times, when I was suddenly accosted by an unknown youth who asked to see my programme for a minute, explaining at the same time that "some guy had pinched his, coming through the crowd."

I silently complied.

He studied the programme briefly, smiled a satisfied smile, and returned it.

"There 's a good thing coming off in the fourth," he remarked in a confidential manner. "If I can see you somewhere just before the race I 'll put you on. It 'll be a 'hot one.'"

I thanked him.

"The owner himself is going to 'put me next,'" he continued; "it 'll be a 'lead-pipe.'"

I began to be interested. "I should like to know it," I replied, "and I will wait for you after the Derby. I may not bet on it myself, but I have a friend who doubtless will, if you will give him the information."

"I 'll give it to him if he 'll go down the line, but it's going to win a city block, and we ought to make a killin' on it. I went broke myself, on Senator Irby, or I 'd have gone home to-night with a bankroll."

"Well," I replied, "we 'll see when the time comes. Now, what do you fancy to win the Derby?"

He lighted a cigarette and puffed it a moment in silence.

"It's a dead-tough race," he at last remarked, "and I would n't play it with counterfeit money. There 's no use in playing any race unless you 've got some information. These geezers that play every race go broke. But it's an easy game to beat if you just stay off till you 're next to something good, and then plug it hard. Why, if I could shake the faro-bank and crap-game, I 'd have money to burn ice with.

"Y' see, take a big stake-race like this, where every horse is a 'cracker-jack,' they 're all of 'em good, and they 've all got a chance, and you just take my advice and stay off. We 'll have something good in the fourth that we know, and we just won't do a thing to it. Well, I must hurry down to the paddocks to see a stable boy I know; if I hear anything I 'll come back and tell you. But be sure and be here for the next with your friend, 'cause it's all over now, but cashing the ticket – so long;" and he dodged away through the crowd.

Oddly enough, it did not at the moment strike me as in the least peculiar that I should have been conversing on a basis of perfect equality with a companion of stable boys and a frequenter of gambling hells. Nothing further.

The spirit of easy, good-natured camaraderie was in the very air; and in the singleness of purpose which animated all – the picking of the winner – all ranks seemed leveled, all social barriers cast aside.

Again, he had proved in our few minutes' talk a new, and to me an interesting, type; and I resolved to keep the appointment, if for nothing more than to study him further.

He was a young man, certainly not over twenty-three, short, slight, and becomingly dressed. His face was thin, smooth-shaven and red, but somehow peculiarly prepossessing. His deep blue eyes and long black lashes might have atoned for much less attractive features; and the lines which ran from his well-shaped nose to the corners of his clear cut lips suggested a hard lived life which I afterwards learned did not belie them.

A glance at my watch discovered the fact that it lacked but a few minutes of my appointment with Murray, and I began to slowly edge my way to the point of our rendezvous.

I reached it promptly on the minute and stood awaiting his tardy coming, when suddenly my arm was grasped and I turned to find my new acquaintance.

He was all excitement and breathing hard, as though in the greatest possible hurry.

"Come here," he said in a low quick voice; and he beckoned me into a quiet corner. "I 've been looking for you everywhere. Now listen a minute and do n't ask questions; Domino's got a 'dickey' leg, and he won't be a thing but last. Garrison tells me that Senator Grady is going to win in a common canter. Richard Croker 's in the ring, and the 'bookies' are swipin' it off the boards. Hurry and get in with your money while there 's a chance to get the odds;" and he started into the betting ring as though fully expecting I would follow.

His manner was intensely earnest, and his hurried words and furtive looks were at once impressive and convincing. I felt my latent sporting spirit rising strong again, and I began the simple process of arguing myself out of my former position.

Some Frenchman, I think, has somewhere said, "A man is his own worst sharper." However that is, in an argument with one's self the other side is usually silenced. And so it chanced that, a few minutes later, I again held a penciled ticket, which this time called for $60 to be paid in the event of certain contingencies, and for which I had given $20 of my former winnings. I had also given my Mentor an extra five to bet for the boy from whom he had received such timely and valuable information.

Such reckless plunging I can only excuse upon the grounds of having been forced into it; for not the least of this versatile youth's many and varied gifts was the power, not uncommon amongst waiters and shop-keepers, of shaming his whilom client out of anything approaching pettiness, by the assumption of that air of blended superiority and indifference we have all felt the force of at times.

I had drawn forth my roll with the laudable intention of chancing a two or perhaps a five, when I was met with the startling proposition that I "bet fifty each way, to win and for place," and this was followed by so convincing an array of figures, weights, times and distances, that a compromise of $20 to win, and a five-dollar bet for the boy, "who could n't leave the paddocks, but had been promised that the right thing would be done by him," seemed the least I could do, consistent with my dignity and self-respect.

And now to hurry back to Murray. We found him standing watch in hand, and he began to smile when he saw my companion.

"Well! well!" he exclaimed in a bantering tone; "so you 've fallen a prey to Checkers, have you? What loser has he touted you onto, that's 'going to win in a walk, hands down'?"

"Now, there's a guy that makes me sick," interrupted Checkers, ignoring the question. "Because he dropped a couple of 'bones' not long ago at the Harlem track, he made a roar that's echoing still between this and the Rocky Mountains. The next time I saw him I gave him a 'good thing' he could have win out on, but he would n't touch it. He don't know the right way around the track. The book-makers call him 'Ready-Money' – he 's so easy."

"Come off now, Checkers," laughed Murray, "you know you never guess 'em right; the only time your horses win is when the others all fall down. But really, Jack, what did you play?"

"I 'm playing Senator Grady, Murray; our friend here told me he could n't lose."

"Well, he may be right," said Murray thoughtfully, "but I 'm not playing the race that way. Domino first, and Despot third, is the way I figure it ought to come. Grady I think will get the place, but the odds are better on Despot for third. Well, let's go up in the grand-stand now, and see them all parade to the post."

We chanced to find a place for three, in the seats almost opposite the judges' stand, for I had taken Checkers with me for the pleasure I found in hearing him talk.

As yet I had n't made up my mind about Checkers, and I was anxious to question Murray privately concerning him. He certainly did not look like a "tout," for the meaning of the word as applied to that genus now came to me. Rather, he seemed to be playing a fantastic rôle. He played it well, I confess, but there was a whimsical air about all that he said and did which puzzled me greatly. His slang, however, was natural. Of that there could be no doubt, and he used it with a native grace, a varied inflection and appositeness which made it seem a part of him, and therefore robbed it of objection.

In fact I afterwards discovered, and I grew to know him very well, that in all his slang there was a pertinence which took a short cut to the gist of things; a humor, dry and sometimes broad, but never vulgar, and seldom profane.

The bugle calling the horses to the post sounded soon after we took our seats, and shortly they began to appear parading in order past the grand-stand.

Domino, Dorian and Senator Grady, the three eastern horses, favorites in the betting, were cheered as they passed to the very echo; while others of the eight had their many supporters, who had backed their belief with some share of their wealth, at longer and much more interesting odds.

"There's the baby'll get the dough," said Checkers, as Senator Grady passed. "He's the finest that ever came over the pike. How on earth are they going to beat him?"

I glanced at Murray, who simply smiled and fixed his eyes upon Domino.

The horses were soon lined up for the start, and after three or four attempts, the starter caught them well in motion, dropped the flag, and the race was "off."

"Domino in the lead," laughed Murray. "I hope he keeps it all around."

Checkers was muttering under his breath some words of – well, disapprobation.

"Now look at that start and burst out cryin'," he groaned in a bitter tone. "Grady absolutely last, and Domino gets off in front. That starter never was any good; talk about his startin' a race, why! that bloke could n't start a fire;" and he lighted another cigarette by way of partial consolation.

The horses were nearing the grand-stand now, which was for them the half-mile post, for the race was to be a mile and one-half, or once and one-half around the track. Their positions had changed since the drop of the flag, for as they passed us Alcenor led, Resplendent was second, Prince Carl third, and Senator Grady was now a good fourth.

"Say! girls, look at Grady," yelled Checkers excitedly. "Why, he 'll back in by twenty lengths. There's the place to have him laying, third or fourth, till they hit the stretch; then Garrison will cut him loose, and beat 'em all in a grand-stand finish. Those dogs in front can't hold that pace; they 'll throw up their tails and quit at a mile;" and Checkers puffed the cigarette between his yellow, smoke-stained fingers, with a look of placid unconcern which I myself was far from feeling.

Suddenly he jumped to his feet with an exclamation of surprise. Grady had suddenly gone to the front as though the others were standing still, and it looked as though his jockey, Garrison, intended to make it a runaway race. At the mile he led by a length and a half, and it seemed to me he would surely win.

The crowds in their intense excitement bustled and buzzed like so many bees. Cries of "Grady!" filled the air, and thousands yelled in frenzied glee. I confess I lost my self-control and whooped as loudly as any one.

"D 'ye see," said Checkers, "that's what it is to have reliable information. Talk about Domino's winning, why, he can't beat a fat man up a hill;" and he cast a pitying glance at Murray, and climbed on his seat for a better view.

Across the level stretch of greensward the horses looked almost like playthings. Up the back stretch on they went, with Grady now a length in front. The others were rapidly closing up, and the final struggle was soon to begin. At the further turn it seemed to me they slackened up for a breathing spell; but on they came again faster and faster, with Grady but half a length in front.

The noisy chatter suddenly ceased and an interested silence fell upon all. My heart was beating a wild tattoo. I felt as though I were burning up.

Murray was wholly occupied in helping Domino along, by calling his name in a low, quick voice, and energetically snapping his fingers (a process commonly known as "pulling," and thought by the cult to be efficacious).

I glanced at Checkers. Disappointment was clearly written across his face.

"We 're up against it," he said despondently. "Garrison 's give us the double-cross. He had no business settin' the pace. There 's some one going after him now. Go on, you Grady! Wiggle yourself! They 've collared him! They 're passing him!" And sure enough some fleet-limbed bay was drawing ahead of our beautiful brown in a way that left us little hope of ever getting in front again.

Around the turn and into the stretch, nearer they raced in a cloud of dust. The leader was gaining at every jump, but Grady hung to second place. Taral now called upon Domino, and at once the colt responded gamely. But his time had gone, and the gallant horse that never before had lost a race fell back with the others, hopelessly beaten, and Taral, seeing that all was lost, pulled up and galloped slowly in. Martin on Despot came out of the bunch, and, passing Prince Carl, set sail for Grady, while Garrison, riding as though for his life, made every effort to hold his own.

Within one hundred yards of the wire the leader had six lengths to spare. His jockey was riding in leisurely fashion, glancing around from time to time, to watch the struggle that Despot was making to wrest the place from Senator Grady.

Whipping and spurring they thundered past us, fighting it out to the finishing post. By it they flashed, the bay horse first, Grady second and Despot third. Garrison's riding had saved him the place, but the race had been won by "a rank outsider."

For a moment or two the crowd was silent – dumb with surprise and disappointment. Few, if any, cheered the winner; thousands inwardly cursed the favorites.

Quickly the word was passed along, "Rey El Santa Anita wins."

"Lucky Baldwin's horse," said Checkers. "The odds were an easy fifty to one. Grady second! D 'ye see, if you 'd have played him for place as I wanted you to, we 'd have saved our stake. But you would n't 'thaw out,' and now your ticket's a souvenir. We 'd have win as it was with a good boy up. That settles Garrison for me. There 's a jockey that ought to be driving cows instead of riding a sprinter like Grady, and pumping him out in the first three-quarters. Domino last! That 'good thing.' Well; I knew from the start that he was a 'lobster.'"

Murray flushed up. "Well, any way, I won on Despot for third," he said, "enough to put me ahead on the race, and cover your losing on Grady, Jack. But, Jove, what a harvest the bookies have reaped. There were thousands of dollars bet on Domino and the other favorites, and there probably were n't a dozen bets in all on Rey El Santa Anita. It's a terrible thing this gambling, Jack, when you come to look it square in the face. Just think of the money gone to swell the pile of a lot of miserable gamblers, and think of the poor deluded mortals who play this game day after day, constant in the fatuous hope of some day making a brilliant coup, and squaring themselves on their years of losing. Fortune 'jollies' them along with temporary small successes, and having gained their confidence proceeds to throw them down the harder. Disappointment, misery, embezzlement, suicide, follow it all as effect follows cause – and still the game goes on."

"Well, anyway, I 'm glad we touched them, and we 'll take good care that they do n't get it back. By Jove, it's nearly 4 o'clock. I 'm afraid we ought to be going, Jack. It's a long drive in, and recollect we have a date for dinner to-night. Come on, I 'll cash this Despot ticket, and then we 'll make a start for home."

"Home!" exclaimed Checkers. "You're not going home? Why this is the race I 've been waiting for. You do n't want to miss a lunch like this. It's a puddin'; it's a tapioca. Honest, it's a regular gift; the chance of your life to make a 'killin'."

But to all his entreaties we lent a deaf ear though he talked with a masterful eloquence. I confess, however, to one more weakness. I gave him a ten which he swore to return. (Murray was standing in line with his ticket.) He said he would "play it carefully, and gradually win himself out of the hole." I felt at the time that I was a "sucker," but somehow he had a persuasive way.