Polytechnic High School - Caerulea Yearbook (Long Beach, CA)

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C ERULI-f,A'Z5 He was in haste and eager to get off the field that 'he might give the Ace the needed attention as quickly as possible. The horse staggered and Joe dismounted, dete1'1nined to lead his animal to the stabfles. The prize money could wait for him to claim it. As Joe dismounted, the new champion of the year turned, whin- nied feebly, nuzzled his nose in his masteris hand, as if in search of sugar, then staggered and sank down. 'tAce, Acef' Joe said softly and he had tears in his eyes, what's wrong? You ran a great race, you made a new record, Ace? Gently, tenderly, he stroked the winner's neck. The beautiful animal looked at Joe knowingly, and seemed to say with its eyes, That was wonderful. That was what I wanted, to win another race, to come backf, The horse looked at Joe with that look of worship which is shown for a man only in the eyes of manis best animal friends, the horse and the dog. Then the animal shuddered, closed his eyes, sighed heavily. His eyes snapped open again and began to glaze. The Ace of Spades was dead. J oe VVorral, who had witnessed and taken part in many trage- dies during his life, threw himself down by his dead horse and wept. He knew that the great thoroughbred had broken its heart in its tremendous effort, and had died of an internal hemorrhage. He was too old a man with horses not to know that this was the cause of death. 'Tve murdered the Ace, I've killed the Ace, he kept repeating over and over, crying all the while. '6Come on, Joe, come with meg you're sickf, came the voice of a 111an who was shouldering through the crowd that had gathered to express its sympathy. It was Charley Bennet. 'gCome on Joe. He took VVorral gently by the arm. Joe let himself be led away. Apparently he did not care who was leading him or where he was going. Bennet took his employee to his own suite at the hotel, where he quieted him and succeeded in getting him to sleep. VVhen VVorral awoke it was dark and he had only a hazy idea Twenty

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CAERULEK25 But the Ace of Spades was no longer old. Young blood burnt in his veins again. At the half 111ile post he was on the Hank of ltloney- getter, who was running neck and neck with Honest George. Slowly he crept up, his pace never slackening. At the three-quarter post ltloneygetter found herself outclassed and fell back. Honest George led the great Ace of Spades by a neck. At the mile post Honest George still led by a neck, but he was under the whip. Joe had never used the whip on the Ace of Spades, encouraging him only with the kindest of words. The Ace ran because he loved to run. It flashed through Joefs 111ind that Honest George was Bennet's horse, that beating Honest George would be the most effective proof of the ability to come back. They were pounding into the stretch and the Ace felt a horse creeping up from behind. The fans recognized this horse as lwahomet. I told you .so,,' said some. The Ace was too old to keep up the pace. But the Ace was not too old at heart. He had swung into a gigantic stride to distance the horse which was worrying up behind him. He left ltlahomet a length behind. He was neck and neck with Honest George, whose jockey was applying the whip furiously. An eighth of a mile to go and Honest George was half a length behind. The Ace did not slacken his pace in the least. At a greater speed than when he had passed Honest George he came under the WVl1'6. He had won by a length and a half over the Bennet thoroughbred. Great ltloses, twenty thousand gone, and the fastest record on the Albany track brokenf, groaned the man with whom Joe had bet, as he snapped shut his .stop watch. VVhat,s the matter with the Ace? Look! VVhat,s the matter with lim? questioned the spectators of one another excitedly, as the noble animal began to act strangely. Something was radically wrong with the great horse. Joe had checked him as soon as possible after coming under the wire, but his experienced eye saw there was something wrong with his stallion. He turned and started for the judges' .stand in order to receive the purse and p1'esent the winning horse to the closer inspection of those men. Nfneteen

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CAERULEAY5 of his surroundings and how he had got there. The death of the Ace of Spades was the only thing that stood out clearly in his memory. He knew besides this that he still had the prize money coming to him, and that there was twenty thousand to collect from a bet. He didn't care what he did or when he did it. He d1'essed quickly and went to collect his bet. It was ten o'clock he saw by the timepiece in the hotel lobby. He was glad of that because he wouldn't have to wake anybody up at that hour. His 1112111 paid the bet easily enough and expressed his sympathy at the sad ending of the great race, at which Joe again started to weep but quickly got control over himself. VVorral did not know what to do with the money he had obtained, for he was sure that he could never again be happy knowing that he had Hkilled, murderedn his horse, the Ace of Spades. He wandered aimlessly about. He saw a train and got aboard, hoping that it would take him away f1'om Albany, and the Albany track. The next morning when Bennet entered the roo1n where he supposed Joe to be sleeping he was surprised to see the bed un- occupied. He found no note concerning his friendls departure. Such an ungrateful action f1'on1 a man who had always appreciated the smallest favo1's puzzled him. In a few days Bennet received the following letter under a Toronto, Canada, postmark: lNIy dear lNIr. Bennet: It was very kind of you to take me to your rooms that day and I thank you very much for it. You have proved that you were right and that a horse can't come back. It is so with men, too. I feel that I can never come back as a great riderg that is, I could not win with a medium horse through riding skill. The Ace of Spades won the race but he broke his heart in doing it. He didn't come back, but he killed himself, or I killed him. An ordinary horse wouldn't have won the race, but he wouldnlt have died either. I believe Twenty-one f