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

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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

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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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C ER LEK25 with you now that a successful comeback is impossible. Enclosed is check for 320,000 which I won at a 100-1 bet. I could not use it, because the Ace I died in winning it. You will please divide it among what charities you believe are best. First take out amount of loss caused you by my quitting and breaking my contract as manager of your stables. I think about 355,000 makes it even that way. Also please collect the Sweepstakes purse for me and give it to charity. I cannot retire from the track with the thought that the Ace died in action and I was the cause of his death. I will ride until I die or get killed. I will not go by the name of VVorral, because if I do people will begin to talk to me about the Ace and I canlt stand that. So that you can keep track of me if you want, I will ride as Carl Henson. ' Respectfully yours as ever, J. VVorral Hllood old .Ioe,', mused Bennet, always thinking of othersf' Then he added determincdly, Every cent of the Ace's money goes to charity. From time to time Bennet read of races in which VVorral 1'ode under the name of Henson. Every account expressed amazement at the recklessness Henson showed always for himself, but the infinite pains with which he cared for his mounts. His carelessness of his personal safety made him a well known figure on VVestern tracks. 'Fearing some of the old timers would recognize him, he kept off the Eastern courses. Then one morning Charley Bennet read this in the racing notes: 'LCarl Henson, known as the VVe,st's most reckless jockey, was thrown from his horse yesterday on the Louisiana track and instantly killedf' Twenty-two ua