, but
probably only started as a compliment to a very popular track management.

With the aid of the form sheet below the story of the race is soon told.
The Dill starting machine, which resembles that of Curly Brown and is the
work of a Louisville man was used in all the races except the Derby, but
in the big race Col. Chinn used the old flag flat-footed and unaided.
There were several break-a-ways in all of which Ben Brush was prominent,
and which were principally caused by First Mate's fiery desire to run.
Incidently, it was comical to see what a difference was presented by this
degenerate son of Shipmate when he reached the same spot again after going
once around the yellow circle. Then he wanted to lay right down and be put
to bed. He never cared if he never saw another horserace as long as he
lived and his craven heart called loudly for action by the humane society
forbidding the use of spurs.

They were finally off with Ben Eder in the lead, but First Mate shot to
the front at once and nearly pulling Thorpe's arms from their sockets set
a merry clip past the stand, down the back stretch and around to the next
turn. Ben Brush had not been lagging, but with Simms almost urging the
sluggish colt had been laying up in fourth position. At the turn from the
back stretch Simms leaned far over his mount's neck and urged him to the
front. He soon overhauled First Mate, who had not thought the race would
be so long, and turned in for home with a good lead and the race
apparently already won. But the white face of Ben Eder had followed him
through like a ghost and was coming on the outside like a flash of light.
Running free and strong this true son of Fonso showed the heritage of a
Derby winning sire. The family prestige must be maintained and he bid fair
to do it. For one fleeting instant the white face showed before the red.
But Ben Brush, too, came from an unconquered race and the blood of Bramble
and old Bonnie Scotland surged through his veins as responding to the
touch of steel his extended nose was thrust again an inch in front. Then
Tabor made the mistake of his life. His horse was running true and
comparatively fresh. The spurt of Ben Brush was only a spasmodic effort.
He would have come back before the wire was reached. But Tabor reached for
his whip and Ben Eder losing his jockey's aid faltered a trifle. It was
now a battle of jockeys. Both urged their mounts with whip and spur, but
Tabor was riding all over his