The Autobiography5 ofa VJ RACE HORSE L.B.Yates LIBRARY UNIVERSITYy PENNSYLVANIA y *-£ FAIRMAN ROGERS COLLECTION ON HORSEMANSHIP ^qlo ^v ..s* Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2009 with funding from Lyrasis Members and Sloan Foundation http://www.archive.org/details/autobiographyofrOOyate 2 JOHN P.GRIEH EX WHIRL'S ElMXISlKMSIROFG THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RACE HORSE L. B. YATES THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RACE HORSE BY L. B. YATES NEW XSf YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY ME« BOLTON CENT Eft *Zi<2. 52 COPYRIGHT, I920, BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA TO LETITIA X 5 T A THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RACE HORSE THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RACE HORSE i Yesterday the old dog went out; but he did not come back again. I wonder why! And this morn- ing when I went out to play in the paddock that adjoins my stall I noticed a little mound of fresh- turned earth over in the corner. It got me thinking. You see, he was a pretty old dog as dogs went; older than most of them, because day before yes- terday he had seen sixteen winters and summers. And, though in the life of a man this would not amount to so much, it is more than the allotted span for a dog. Happy was an English setter; and when I look back it seems only yesterday since he was a little round white cotton ball, always getting in the way of my hoofs or trying to climb up my hind leg and tie my tail into a bow-knot. I tell you I had a lot of trouble raising that puppy, because since he 9 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RACE HORSE joined our little company he always slept in one corner of my stall—that is, when he did not make a bed out of my back when I lay down at night; which he usually did, especially when he was younger. Now, as I said, he went out and did not come back. Perhaps I should tell you who I am, because I believe that is the correct way to commence a story. My name is Valor. My father was named Valiant and my mother was called Fairy Queen. I am a thoroughbred race horse. My master says you can trace my pedigree back to the Pyramids, because I come in direct line from the Byerly Turk and the Darley Arabian, which, as everybody knows, laid most of the foundation for the sport of kings and the superlative in speed. I hope you won't think I am egotistical in men- tioning my lineage. But in my travels I have often heard men say that pedigree didn't amount to any- thing. They were talking about humans, and per- haps in their wisdom they were right so far as men and women are concerned ; but you can't apply that theory to race horses or hunting dogs. It seems to me, of course, that good blood and gentle breeding have to be considered wherever one finds it. [10] AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RACE HORSE Happy, my partner and dearly beloved compan- ion, was also of aristocratic beginnings. I think that helped to make the bond of union between us stronger. It was just as you see well-bred men and women usually seek out their own kind, because one can't be happy unless one consorts with those who are congenial. I have heard a good deal of talk about socialism. It is all right as long as the so- cialists stick together. I am getting to be a very old horse now. To be exact, I shall soon celebrate my twenty-seventh birthday. And when I eliminate the altruistic ideas born of the vivacity of youth I find some results that are absolute. The potency of good blood hap- pens to be one of them. During my career on the turf I won more than a hundred races. I was cam- paigned from Maine to California and from Mon- treal to Texas. I have run races at all distances and for all amounts from ten dollars to ten thou- sand. It has been on my mind for a long time to make a note in some tangible form of my travels and ex- periences, because I saw a good many things and under many conditions. Being observant I filed them away in the pigeonholes of memory. People talk about horse sense, but I think in most cases the AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RACE HORSE words are spoken without a realization of what they really mean. My master paid me a visit this afternoon. He is now a stout middle-aged man and does not look at all like the slim boy of twenty-five years ago, when we commenced our life of adventure together. When he came I knew that something had hap- pened, because he sat down in the corner of the stall and did not say anything for a long time. It was a way he always had whenever calamity of any kind overtook us. He sat there a long time and then rose and put on my bridle and saddle. Whenever he comes he always takes me out for a gallop. We are a pe- culiar couple. I am sure he does this to prove to me that he remembers the days of our pilgrimages. Of course things are a little different now. Can- didly I am not so spry as I used to be and some- times I have to smile when he puts his foot in the stir- rup and mounts me. There is such a big difference between a hundred and eight pounds and close to one hundred and eighty. These occasions are the great events in my life, because we go off down the road together just as we used to in the old days, the only difference being that we always come back to the same stable. [12] AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RACE HORSE In the early part of our career once we left a place we kept on going. Those were the days of the mag- nificent adventure, of triumphs and defeats, of pov- erty sometimes, and unbelievable affluence at others. It was a wonderful partnership. He could ride and I could run. There is no combination like that of youth and ability. So we went out on the little sand road back of the stable, and I broke into a canter, as I usually do; and I bowed my neck and reached for the bit just as I would have done years ago when we had real work ahead of us. When I did that I could feel my master's fingers creeping along the reins for a better hold, and I sensed that his knees were grip- ping the saddle flaps. I knew what that meant; so I gave one mighty lunge forward and away we went. I really flatter myself that I can run a short distance yet as fast as I ever could. This is not a vainglorious statement, because I won races up to the time I was seventeen years old, and in fast company too ; in fact, I won the last race I ever ran, and might have continued had not my master retired me. Since that time I have had a big box stall and a large paddock to play in on sunny days. Perhaps that is best; but if you ask me I really believe I could have lasted two or three years [13] AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RACE HORSE more. We may lose a good deal in this world, but never our vanity. That attribute seems to remain with all living things to the end. My master allowed me to breeze only about a six- teenth of a mile; then he pulled me up. He dis- mounted and led me to the fence corner and sat down. We were both puffing just a little. I reached over and pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket. It was one of the tricks he taught me in the early days. ... I say one of the tricks because I knew a great many. Why, do you know, if my master touched with his whip on the right pastern I could go so lame that any observer would think I could not hobble back to my own stall, let alone race! My education was a liberal one. Candidly I think that, between us, my master and I were the original inventors of camouflage. I will tell you more about this later. My master pulled the handkerchief out of my mouth, making believe that he was very angry. "You damned old pirate!" he exclaimed. "You never forget anything. Well, it's a blessed thing for me that you can't talk!" But, for all that, he was not in so pleasant a mood as usual. He was very grave and from his man- ner I knew that something had happened. He [14] — AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RACE HORSE ——^*^————^——— pulled the reins over my head and led me back to the barn. We stopped at the corner of the paddock and looked at the little mound of fresh-turned earth. We stood there quite a long time. He did not say anything ; but he did not have to, because I knew then that one of our partners had passed out of our lives. We are both too old to form new friendships or center our affections on strange peo- ple ; so I knew that, after this, Happy would be but a memory.