We put up the money in Johnnie Hawkins' hands, and agreed to pace
that afternoon. The news of the race spread rapidly, and there
was a large crowd at the course to see the sport. Henry Foley was
in the judge's stand, and we were all ready. The bets were about
even, although my horse was handicapped with four wheels to Dick's
two-wheeled sulky, and besides I had 350 pounds to his 140. We
tossed up for the pole, and Dick won. We went up the stretch and
came down for the tap, but Dick wanted the best of it, and was
about ten lengths ahead when he went under the wire. I nodded to
Henry, so he let us go. Dick went flying from the start, and I
eased my horse around the first turn, so that when I got straightened
up on the back stretch Dick was 100 yards ahead. The betting was
then $100 to $5 in favor of Dick, as they all thought that I could
never close up that big gap. I gave old "Duke" one cut across the
back, and he went down that stretch like a race-horse, sure enough.
We came around the next turn, and when I got square into the home
stretch I gave the horse a war-whoop, and we went past Dick so fast
that he thought he was tied to the fence. I went under the wire
about ten lengths ahead of Dick, and the fellows that had taken
some of the $100 to $5 bets raised the yell and kept it up until
you would have thought they were a pack of wild Indians. My friend
Johnnie Hawkins took all the bets that he could get in that short
time.
Dick did not blow about "Tom Parker" any more after that, and when
I would ask him if he wanted another race, he would say, "No,
George; I would rather take a drink;" and that was about all I was
ever able to get out of him. I hope to see the old fellow alive
and happy the next time I visit New Orleans; for he is a good,
clever fellow, and I hope he will live as long as I do--and I expect
to live forever.