Golden Broom was far in front, his short, pistonlike strides taking him toward the turn like a whirlwind. Hard after him was the light-weighted Upset with Willy Knapp in the saddle; he seemed to be biding his time, content to wait for the homestretch before making his bid to catch the leader. Some distance behind them were Armistice and Donnacona, running close together. Still farther back were the three stragglers, Capt. Alcock, The Swimmer, and last of all Man o’ War.
Loftus turned the big chestnut loose, and they swept past Capt. Alcock and The Swimmer in devouring strides. Approaching the turn, the jockey took his mount over to the rail, determined to make up even more ground by passing Donnacona and Armistice on the inside. Six furlongs wasn’t a long race and they’d already gone half of it. But before he could get through, the hole on the rail closed and Man o’ War was shut off again.
The big colt fought back as Loftus once more took hold of his mouth and jerked hard. Reluctantly he slowed his strides going into the turn. He was pulled to the outside, then the hard hold on his mouth loosened and he was permitted to run. He swept around Donnacona and Armistice. Again his long strides devoured the track as he came off the turn and into the homestretch in third position.
Loftus knew he should have kept Man o’ War clear of Armistice and Donnacona. He had made still another mistake and Golden Broom was setting a dizzy pace, with Upset right alongside the leader and challenging him. Had he still the time and distance to catch the two of them?
There was only a furlong to go, and the crowd was on its feet, screaming to the heavens. Man o’ War was catching the leaders fast, outrunning them with every magnificent stride! Danny was silent, too scared to move let alone shout. His colt was only a length and a half from Golden Broom and Upset when he saw Johnny Loftus take him over toward the rail again!
The breath came from Danny in a loud groan. “No!”
Golden Broom was beginning to tire and Danny knew that Loftus, figuring the colt would weaken enough to leave an opening, was going to try to get through between him and Upset! It was a mistake, Danny thought, a big mistake, not to go around both colts. Man o’ War had the speed to do it.
As Golden Broom tired, Willy Knapp kept Upset back, too. He glanced at Man o’ War trying to come between them. He didn’t move his colt past Golden Broom as he could have done. He had Johnny Loftus and the unbeaten favorite in a pocket and there they’d stay, if he could keep them there!
Danny knew that Loftus hadn’t figured on Knapp’s racing strategy. He had made another mistake, his third of the race. He couldn’t take Man o’ War past the leaders without pulling back now and coming around outside. And there was hardly time for it!
The sixteenth pole flashed by, with only one hundred and ten yards to go to the finish. Man o’ War’s strides shortened as Loftus slowed and started to swing him around the two leaders. It was then that Willy Knapp moved Upset past Golden Broom in a final all-out drive to the wire!
“Get him, Red!” Danny shouted.
He watched Man o’ War leap forward, gaining steadily. But he knew, too, that his colt was running out of ground. Upset, with a fifteen-pound weight advantage and having had an unmolested race, was lasting to the wire despite Man o’ War’s final charge. The big colt was alongside at the finish but Upset still had his nose in front, winning the race and living up to his name. He had defeated Man o’ War!
Revenge
20
The Grand Union Hotel surrounded three sides of a large square and was one of the most impressive buildings in Saratoga. The night of the Sanford Memorial it was crowded with people discussing Upset’s victory over Man o’ War. They spoke of it in the cool and leafy darkness of the garden, in dining rooms, and in the lobby. But the most serious conversations of all took place on the hotel porch. There in the deep and comfortable veranda armchairs famous trainers gave their expert and varying opinions of the race.
Joking, and happier than anyone else in the celebrated gathering, was Jim Rowe, trainer of Upset. “I’ve been listening to you fellows for two weeks tell me Man o’ War couldn’t be beaten,” he needled the others.
“It wasn’t a truly run race,” another answered. “You know that as well as we do.”
Jim Rowe grinned. “We still got the winner’s share of the purse and took home the trophy.”
“But not the glory,” the other said quietly. “Never was Man o’ War so great as he was today in his first defeat. The crowd knew it. They gave him a bigger hand than they did Upset.”
Jim Rowe shifted in his chair. “They’ve been reading too much about him, that’s why. He’s a good colt but not as brilliant as they say. We beat him once. We’ll beat him again.”
A newspaperman rose to his feet. “You’re trying to be hard-boiled about this colt, Jimmy, and you know it. Never before did Man o’ War have to prove his courage as he did today. He was never put to a test before. And let me tell you he was not found wanting!”
“You’re sure right,” a second trainer agreed. “Loftus made three big mistakes, and still Man o’ War came on. If Willy Knapp had moved over just an eyelash an’ let him out of that pocket the last eighth, the big colt would have won from here to the sidewalk. Willy says so himself.”
“The point is,” Jim Rowe said, “that he didn’t, an’ good racing calls for good riding.”
“Some say Mr. Riddle will take him off the colt.”
“I doubt it,” the newspaperman said. “He knows Loftus is one of the most able riders we’ve ever had. Anyone can have a bad day. Bad racing luck, you might call it. Mr. Riddle will keep Loftus on Man o’ War. Mark my words.”
“I hear Golden Broom pulled up lame,” another guest remarked, more to change the subject than anything else.
“Yeah,” Rowe said. “His quarter gave away again. He’s done.”
“He finished third. He had heart.”
“But Man o’ War is the colt with class, real class,” a trainer in the back said. “He needs no excuses for his defeat.”
“We’ll see,” Jim Rowe said, needling the other trainers once more. “We’ll go after him again ten days from now. Beaten once, he can be beaten again.” He sat back in the cool night breeze, enjoying his moment of triumph.
The trainer sitting beside him smiled. “Enjoy it while you can, Jimmy,” he said. “It won’t last long. You might as well admit you and your big Harry Payne Whitney Stable have got to move over for a new outfit. Riddle and his colt are going to bring home the prizes for a change. You’ve got nothing that can outrun Man o’ War an’ you know it.”
“There are other ways to win a race,” Rowe said wisely. “Who knows? Man o’ War might get more bad starts. Or maybe Loftus is losing what he had for so long. He might go rail-happy again. If he does we’ll lick him every time.”
During the days that followed it was made plain to all that despite the great criticism of Johnny Loftus, Mr. Riddle’s confidence in him was unwavering. The owner told Louis Feustel that Loftus would ride Man o’ War in the coming Grand Union Hotel Stakes, when once again he would meet Upset.
Danny watched Loftus mount Man o’ War for the next big race and felt Mr. Riddle was right in keeping him in the saddle. The severe criticism of his riding in the Sanford had cut Loftus as the lash of his whip never could have done. He had been punished enough, and Danny was certain he would make no mistakes that day. Loftus would seek revenge and so would the big colt. Together nothing could stop them, not Upset or any of the other nine colts going to the post.
It was a big field, made big because Man o’ War had been beaten. And what had happened once might well happen again. The opposition stables had taken heart. The distance for the Grand Union Hotel Stakes was six furlongs, and the big colt was carrying his now-standard burden of 130 pounds. Upset had been assigned 125 pounds because of his victory. Danny believed Upset had no chance of defeating Man o’ War at that weight. He noted that the crowd agreed with him, for Man o’ War once more had been made the favorite.
Danny walked beside his horse to the track, shading his eyes against the bright sun as the field went postward. With the exception of Upset none of the others had raced in the Sanford. It was a good field, with all the trainers and owners taking heart after Man o’ War’s defeat; he was not invincible after all.
Blazes, Gladiator, and The Trout had won previous races. Rouleau was there too; he had grown up with Man o’ War at Nursery Stud and had been bought for $13,000 at the Yearling Sales. It was their first meeting on the track.
Danny’s gaze returned to Man o’ War, and he swelled with pride at the roar that greeted his colt. He was second in the parade, a good post position providing he got away fast, bad if he didn’t. Danny wasn’t worried about Man o’ War’s being left at the post today. Mars Cassidy, the official starter, was back and he’d be able to keep the jockeys and horses in line. And Loftus would be ready this time. He would make no mistakes. He was out to redeem himself.
It was 3:55 when they reached the post. Man o’ War was full of fire, trying to break from Johnny Loftus’s strong hands. But the jockey was not to be denied today. Man o’ War was held under control and Mars Cassidy quickly lined up the others. The colts were still. It would be a clean start, a truly run race.
The barrier went up, the yellow flag fell, and the Grand Union Hotel Stakes had begun! Yet it was over almost at once. Man o’ War surged to the front, passing Upset and all the others in great bounds and opening up a gap of many lengths. He continued drawing away until Johnny Loftus succeeded in shortening his great strides. Finally the jockey was standing in his stirrups as he turned to look back at the field straggling far behind. He pulled with all his might in the run to the finish wire, and yet when the time of the big colt was posted, it was two-fifths of a second faster than the race record!
The crowd thundered its ovation when Man o’ War returned to the winner’s circle. All knew that what they had witnessed was not really a race but an exhibition of extreme speed. There was no telling how fast this fiery chestnut colt could run. Surely he was king of the two-year-olds. He had only to win the forthcoming Hopeful Stakes and the Belmont Futurity to clinch the coveted title. There were few in the packed stands of over 35,000 people who doubted his ability to be victorious in both.
During the days that followed, Danny watched his colt closely. He fought for his right to be with him every moment but gave way beneath the weight of all those who now felt they had seen the greatness in Man o’ War long before anyone else.
On August 30 Man o’ War went postward again to run in the Hopeful Stakes, his chestnut body already wet with sweat from his restlessness and the blistering heat of the day. Even the air was heavy, as if sharing the suspense of this, his final race at Saratoga. The sweltering sun and ominous black sky to the west had not kept an enormous crowd from the track.
The fiery colt was third in the post parade of eight two-year-olds. He was the heavy favorite, and his being there had led owners to withhold numerous colts and fillies that ordinarily would have been sent to the post for a share of the $30,000 purse. He carried high weight of 130 pounds for the sixth consecutive time.
Danny’s gaze left the horses for the threatening sky. If the heavy black clouds let go, the torrents of rain would turn the track into a sea of mud. Could his colt carry high weight on such a track, particularly with the other jockeys doing everything possible to interfere? It would be a decisive test.
It was four o’clock when Danny watched the horses round the far turn on the way to the barrier. He felt the first drops of rain, and the people nearby began moving under the grandstand. The rain came down harder and he was barely able to see the horses. He knew the race was going to be decided at the barrier and he wasn’t going to stay there where he would miss it. Quickly, he ran across the wet track and entered the infield. Lightning flashed through the sky as he raced into the sheets of rain. He thought of what the electricity in the air and the loud thunderclaps were doing to his colt. Man o’ War would be more fractious than ever, and so would the other horses.
Nearing the barrier, he could see the horses milling about in back of the webbing. The darkness was shattered by their frenzied movements and the hushed stillness broken by the cries of their riders for more room. He went close to the starter’s stand, peering through the half-light while the rain poured down his face.
He saw Upset skitter nervously across the track and bang into Man o’ War. Then Constancy hit him from the other side. The big colt plunged forward, almost breaking away from his handler and going through the barrier.
Starter Cassidy was trying to bring the horses and riders under control but the blinding rain only added to his burden. It was evident to Danny that the jockeys were making every possible effort to prevent Man o’ War from getting off well. Each time Cassidy had them close to being lined up, the start was spoiled by the willful maneuvering of horses to either side of Man o’ War.
Man o’ War lashed out with his hoofs when any of the others got close to him. He hit the filly Ethel Gray, who should have been four positions away from him. He lunged at Upset when Willy Knapp brought his colt across the track. Then he reared and tried to break through the barrier.
Mars Cassidy was almost losing control, Danny knew. It seemed every rider was trying to wear down Man o’ War under his high weight. The minutes ticked on, with the rain turning the racing track into deep mud. Could Man o’ War still win under such a handicap?
Danny glanced at his watch. Nine minutes had already gone by. The flagman had his yellow flag raised. He would drop it when the barrier was sprung and the horses moved down the track. But when would the moment come?
The rain was streaming down Man o’ War’s flanks. Loftus finally had him straight and in position. Dr. Clark was steady and on the rail. So was Constancy. The others were lining up too. Danny turned to the starter. Now? The barrier went up!
Constancy broke first with Dr. Clark right beside her. Capt. Alcock was next and then came Man o’ War.
Danny let out a yell of relief, now that his colt was clear of interference. He watched him move past Capt. Alcock and go after the two leaders. Man o’ War was moving in an easy gallop, and Danny knew he’d be able to catch them any time Loftus chose to have him do so. Already Man o’ War was fighting to be turned loose. Danny could just make out the horses’ flying bodies in the half-light as they rounded the far turn. He saw Man o’ War sweep by Dr. Clark in three mighty strides, then he had caught Constancy, flashing by her as if she had been standing still.
There was no more to the race, and Danny knew he had seen the most exciting part at the barrier. Man o’ War was all by himself when he passed the stands, the mud flying behind him. The other high-class colts were strung out far to his rear, lost in the blur of his extreme speed.
Even Danny had not expected Man o’ War to rise to such lofty heights as he did after winning the Hopeful Stakes. Photographers and newsmen never let him alone, and pictures and stories of Man o’ War began appearing with ever increasing frequency in the daily press and turf journals, including publications that had never before paid any attention to a racehorse.
He heard Montford Jones, who had bought Rouleau at the Yearling Sales, offer Mr. Riddle $100,000 for Man o’ War.
Danny held his breath awaiting Mr. Riddle’s answer.
It came with a laugh and a shake of his head.
“Then $125,000,” Mr. Jones said.
“No, I think not.”
“What about $150,000?”
Danny felt tenser than ever.
Again Mr. Riddle laughed and shook his head. “I can’t be tempted,” he said. “I have no intention of parting with Man o’ War.”
The meeting at Saratoga was over, and after a few days’ rest the Riddle stable moved back to Belmont Park on Long Island. Within the next two weeks Man o’ War was scheduled to run his final race of the year, this time the Belmont Futurity, the richest and most coveted race for two-year-olds in the country.
“Nothing can
beat him,” Feustel told Danny one morning while the boy was grooming the big colt. “But it makes me uneasy just to think of it. No matter how brilliant his other wins have been, they mean nothing if he doesn’t cop the Futurity. That’s how it’s always been. Win the Futurity and you’re the head of your division. Lose it, no matter what the excuse, and you’re done.”
“He’s rested and ready for it,” Danny said confidently. “He won’t lose.”
“It’ll be a straightaway for him this time,” the trainer said. “Right down the middle for six furlongs.”
“His strides are meant for straight courses,” Danny said. “It will be easier than ever for him.”
Feustel picked up the colt’s left forefoot and examined it closely. “They’ll still jam him if they can,” he said. “The field will be a big one. It always is. Sometimes as many as twenty horses go to the post.”
“But not this time,” Danny said. “He’s beaten too many of them. They won’t show up at the post.”
“Don’t be too sure,” Feustel answered. “Large shares of the purse go to the second, third, and fourth horses in the Futurity. They’ll go after them, if nothing else.”
Danny said, “I hear Jim Rowe is going with three horses to try and beat us.”
Feustel nodded and put down the colt’s foot. “Yes, he’s got John P. Grier ready. He claims he’s a far better colt than Upset. If so, he might make a race of it.”