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."