Young Van Bibber had never spent a Fourth of July in the city, as he
had always understood it was given over to armies of small boys on
that day, who sat on all the curbstones and set off fire-crackers, and
that the thermometer always showed ninety degrees in the shade, and
cannon boomed and bells rang from daybreak to midnight. He had refused
all invitations to join any Fourth-of-July parties at the seashore or
on the Sound or at Tuxedo, because he expected his people home from
Europe, and had to be in New York to meet them. He was accordingly
greatly annoyed when he received a telegram saying they would sail in
a boat a week later.
He finished his coffee at the club on the morning of the Fourth about
ten o'clock, in absolute solitude, and with no one to expect and
nothing to anticipate; so he asked for a morning paper and looked up
the amusements offered for the Fourth. There were plenty of excursions
with brass bands, and refreshments served on board, baseball matches
by the hundred, athletic meetings and picnics by the dozen, but
nothing that seemed to exactly please him.
The races sounded attractive, but then he always lost such a lot of
money, and the crowd pushed so, and the sun and the excitement made
his head ache between the eyes and spoiled his appetite for dinner. He
had vowed again and again that he would not go to the races; but as
the day wore on and the solitude of the club became oppressive and the
silence of the Avenue began to tell on him, he changed his mind, and
made his preparations accordingly.
First, he sent out after all the morning papers and read their tips on
the probable winners. Very few of them agreed, so he took the horse
which most of them seemed to think was best, and determined to back
it, no matter what might happen or what new tips he might get later.
Then he put two hundred dollars in his pocket-book to bet with, and
twenty dollars for expenses, and sent around for his field-glasses.
He was rather late in starting, and he made up his mind on the way to
Morris Park that he would be true to the list of winners he had
written out, and not make any side bets on any suggestions or inside
information given him by others. He vowed a solemn vow on the rail of
the boat to plunge on each of the six horses he had selected from the
newspaper tips, and on no others. He hoped in this way to win
something. He did not care so much to win, but he hated to lose. He
always felt so flat and silly after it was over; and when it
happened, as it often did, that he had paid several hundred dollars
for the afternoon's sport, his sentiments did him credit.
"I shall probably, or rather certainly, be tramped on and shoved,"
soliloquized Van Bibber.
"I shall smoke more cigars than are good for me, and drink more than I
want, owing to the unnatural excitement and heat, and I shall be late
for my dinner. And for all this I shall probably pay two hundred
dollars. It really seems as if I were a young man of little intellect,
and yet thousands of others are going to do exactly the same thing."
The train was very late. One of the men in front said they would
probably just be able to get their money up in time for the first
race. A horse named Firefly was Van Bibber's choice, and he took one
hundred dollars of his two hundred to put up on her. He had it already
in his hand when the train reached the track, and he hurried with the
rest towards the bookmakers to get his one hundred on as quickly as
possible. But while he was crossing the lawn back of the stand, he
heard cheers and wild yells that told him they were running the race
at that moment.
"Raceland!" "Raceland!" "Raceland by a length!" shouted the crowd.
"Who's second?" a fat man shouted at another fat man.
"Firefly," called back the second, joyously, "and I've got her for a
place and I win eight dollars."
"Ah!" said Van Bibber, as he slipped his one hundred dollars back in
his pocket, "good thing I got here a bit late."
"What'd you win, Van Bibber?" asked a friend who rushed past him,
clutching his tickets as though they were precious stones.
"I win one hundred dollars," answered Van Bibber, calmly, as he walked
on up into the boxes. It was delightfully cool up there, and to his
satisfaction and surprise he found several people there whom he knew.
He went into Her box and accepted some _pâté_ sandwiches and iced
champagne, and chatted and laughed with Her so industriously, and so
much to the exclusion of all else, that the horses were at the
starting-post before he was aware of it, and he had to excuse himself
hurriedly and run to put up his money on Bugler, the second on his
list. He decided that as he had won one hundred dollars on the first
race he could afford to plunge on this one, so he counted out fifty
more, and putting this with the original one hundred dollars, crowded
into the betting-ring and said, "A hundred and fifty on Bugler
straight."
"Bugler's just been scratched," said the bookie, leaning over Van
Bibber's shoulder for a greasy five-dollar bill.
"Will you play anything else?" he asked, as the young gentleman stood
there irresolute.
"No, thank you," said Van Bibber, remembering his vow, and turning
hastily away. "Well," he mused, "I'm one hundred and fifty dollars
better off than I might have been if Bugler hadn't been scratched and
hadn't won. One hundred and fifty dollars added to one hundred makes
two hundred and fifty dollars. That puts me 'way ahead of the game. I
am fifty dollars better off than when I left New York. I'm playing in
great luck." So, on the strength of this, he bought out the man who
sells bouquets, and ordered more champagne to be sent up to the box
where She was sitting, and they all congratulated him on his winnings,
which were suggested by his generous and sudden expenditures.
"You must have a great eye for picking a winner," said one of the
older men, grudgingly.
"Y-e-s," said Van Bibber, modestly. "I know a horse when I see it, I
think; and," he added to himself, "that's about all."
His horse for the third race was Rover, and the odds were five to one
against him. Van Bibber wanted very much to bet on Pirate King
instead, but he remembered his vow to keep to the list he had
originally prepared, whether he lost or won. This running after
strange gods was always a losing business. He took one hundred dollars
in five-dollar bills, and went down to the ring and put the hundred up
on Rover and returned to the box. The horses had been weighed in and
the bugle had sounded, and three of the racers were making their way
up the track, when one of them plunged suddenly forward and went down
on his knees and then stretched out dead. Van Bibber was confident it
was Rover, although he had no idea which the horse was, but he knew
his horse would not run. There was a great deal of excitement, and
people who did not know the rule, which requires the return of all
money if any accident happens to a horse on the race-track between the
time of weighing in and arriving at the post, were needlessly alarmed.
Van Bibber walked down to the ring and received his money back with a
smile.
"I'm just one hundred dollars better off than I was three minutes
ago," he said. "I've really had a most remarkable day."
Mayfair was his choice for the fourth race, and she was selling at
three to one. Van Bibber determined to put one hundred and
seventy-five dollars up on her, for, as he said, he had not lost on
any one race yet. The girl in the box was very interesting, though,
and Van Bibber found a great deal to say to her. He interrupted
himself once to call to one of the messenger-boys who ran with bets,
and gave him one hundred and seventy-five dollars to put on Mayfair.
Several other gentlemen gave the boy large sums as well, and Van
Bibber continued to talk earnestly with the girl. He raised his head
to see Mayfair straggle in a bad second, and shrugged his shoulders.
"How much did you lose?" she asked.
"Oh, 'bout two hundred dollars," said Van Bibber; "but it's the first
time I've lost to-day, so I'm still ahead." He bent over to continue
what he was saying, when a rude commotion and loud talking caused
those in the boxes to raise their heads and look around. Several
gentlemen were pointing out Van Bibber to one of the Pinkerton
detectives, who had a struggling messenger-boy in his grasp.
"These gentlemen say you gave this boy some money, sir," said the
detective. "He tried to do a welsh with it, and I caught him just as
he was getting over the fence. How much and on what horse, sir?"
Van Bibber showed his memoranda, and the officer handed him over one
hundred and seventy-five dollars.
"Now, let me see," said Van Bibber, shutting one eye and calculating
intently, "one hundred and seventy-five to three hundred and fifty
dollars makes me a winner by five hundred and twenty-five dollars.
That's purty good, isn't it? I'll have a great dinner at Delmonico's
to-night. You'd better all come back with me!"
But She said he had much better come back with her and her party on
top of the coach and take dinner in the cool country instead of the
hot, close city, and Van Bibber said he would like to, only he did
wish to get his one hundred dollars up on at least one race. But they
said "no," they must be off at once, for the ride was a long one, and
Van Bibber looked at his list and saw that his choice was Jack Frost,
a very likely winner, indeed; but, nevertheless, he walked out to the
enclosure with them and mounted the coach beside the girl on the back
seat, with only the two coachmen behind to hear what he chose to say.
And just as they finally were all harnessed up and the horn sounded,
the crowd yelled, "They're off," and Van Bibber and all of them turned
on their high seats to look back.
"Magpie wins," said the whip.
"And Jack Frost's last," said another.
"And I win my one hundred dollars," said Van Bibber. "It's really very
curious," he added, turning to the girl. "I started out with two
hundred dollars to-day, I spent only twenty-five dollars on flowers, I
won six hundred and twenty-five dollars, and I have only one hundred
and seventy-five dollars to show for it, and yet I've had a very
pleasant Fourth."