Jack Lightfoot in the saddle; or, A jockey for just one day

Jack Lightfoot in the saddle; or, A jockey for just one day

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Jack Lightfoot in the saddle; or, A jockey for just one day
Series Title:
All-Sports Library
Stevens, Maurice
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New York
Winner Library
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1 online resource (31 p.) 28 cm.: ;


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Dime novels. ( lcsh )
Sports stories, American. ( lcsh )
Athletic clubs -- Fiction ( lcsh )
serial ( sobekcm )

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Source Institution:
University of South Florida
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University of South Florida
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All applicable rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
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A46-00010 ( USFLDC DOI )
a46.10 ( USFLDC Handle )
025836847 ( ALEPH )
76165691 ( OCLC )

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Puhl.Shers' Note "Tcll the American boy bow to "-me -athlete, and lay the fo1111datloa for Coutltutloa greater tbu that I .r tbe United .!tates. -Wlae Nylap from "Tip Top. There bu never been t ime wbea the boya of tbi ll't country took ao keen ea later"t l a all mealy ud healtbitlvlair sports u they do to-day. A8 proof of tbls wltaeH tbo record-breaklair thronir that attend colleire truirirtea on tbe crldlrou, u well u athletic and bueball pmea, and other test. of endurance and skill. In multitude of other c baaae tf" this love for tbe "life atr eauous I malc:lair Itself manifest, so that, u nation, we ere rapidly forglair to the front as Hekera of boa t port. 1tecogalzh11r thla "bandwritlnir on tbe wall, we h a v e co ncluded that the t ime has arrived to give this vast army o f younir en tbulub a publication devoted exclusivel y to invigorating out-door life We feel we are Ju stified i n antl c lpatinir warm response from our sturdy American boys, who ere aare lo revel la t h e stlrrinit phues o f sport and adventure, through wblc b our characters pus from week to week. ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY lurud Wu/Uy. By S"bs&rijlio" l..Jo Jw y1ar. 8ntw1d accord ing-'" Act of Omgru$ i n tlu year rqo5, i n flu Ot/ict o f tlu L ibrarian of Cot1p-1u, Waslti"P"" D. C., fJy TBS WINNER LIBRARY Co., r65 West F iftee nth 3 t., N ew York N. Y No. 17. NEW YORK, June 3, 1905. Price Five Cents. JACK LHiHTFOOT IN THE SADDLE; OR, A Jockey for Just One Day. By MAURICE STEVENS. CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY. Jack Lightfoot, the best all-round athlete in Cranford or vicinity, a lad clear of eye, clean of speech, and, after he had conquered a few of his faults, possessed of a faculty for doing things while others were talking, that by degrees caused him to be looked upo n as the natural leader in all the sports Young America delights in-a boy who in learning to conquer himself put the power into his hands to wrest victory from others. Tom Llirhtfoot, Jack's cousin, and sometimes his rival; though their striving for the masterr was always of the friendly. generous kind. Tom was called the Book-Worm" by his fellows, on ac count of his love for studying such secrets of nature as' practical observers have discovered and published; so that he possessed a fund of general knowledge calculated to prove useful when his wandering spirit took him abroad into strange lands. Ned Skeen, of impulsive, nervous temperament, one of those who followed the newcomer, Birkett, being dazzled by the dash of his manner, and the free way in which he flung money around. Lafe Lampt o n a big, hulking chap, with an ever presen t craving for something to eat. Lafe always had his appetite along, and proved a stanch friend of our hero through thick and thin. Kate Strawn and Ne lll e C onne r some of the girls at Cranford. Phll Kirtland Jack's former rival, but who just present was working on the ball team with Lightfoot. Nat Kimball, an undersized fellow, whose hobby was the study of fiu-jitsu, and who had a dread of germs. Brodie Strawn and Wilson C rane, members of the Cranford base-ball team. Nathan Connor, owner of the horse Wellington. J i m H oiran, a groom in the employ of Mr. Connor. Pelaer the jockey who was to ride Wellington. ..Slattery owner of race horses, and a man who was not above ing a d1'honest dollar. Cassidy, his clever tool. CHAPTER I FOR THE COUNTY FAIR "I g u ess we'll have to let Jack Ligh tfoot do th e bu si ness He'll look after it all right, Lafe, and I'll b et he succeeds in landing us. I've se l dom known him to tackle a job and fail to hold it down. For outrigh t luck Jack carries off the whole bakery," and the r e w as a tinge of jealousy in the voice of Phil Ki rtl a nd a s he admitted this truth. Lafe Lampton grinned and shrugged h i s st urdy sho u lders, then reached over a fence nea r by and plucked a big, yellow apple from a tree, the bran ch of which came almost to the sidewa l k, a n d vora c ious l y set his sharp, white teeth into i t Lafe Lampton was nearly always hungry, dire c tly afte r mea l s being abou t t h e only ti m e h e was no t After a good, big dinner Lafe lost his appetite a l i t t le. It invariably returned very soon, however, and


2 ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. apples was Lafe's stronghold, as the saying is, in be tween meals. "I can think better when I'm eating an apple, Phil," said he, as his huge bite of the juicy fruit broke away with a regular popgun snap. "That so, Lafe?" laughed Phil. "Benson doesn't care how many of them I pluck. He told me yesterday to eat my fill." "I guess he doesn't know how many you can hold, Lafe. Your limit is about like that of a cider press." "Mebbe 'tis," was the reply. "But Benson says it's a downright pleasure to see me mow down an apple. So 'tis to me to eat it." And Lafe Lampton laughed loudly and munched away, then reached back over the fence for a second yellow harvest apple before Benson's orchard should be left behind. Lafe's companibn was Phil Kirtland, both of whom yvere friends of Jack Lightfoot, and they then were heading for the latter's home; or, rather, they were bound for the shed room there, where the boys so fre quently met to plan their sports, chiefly under Jack's capable leadership. Usually these fairs are held in the early fall, but this year the experiment was being tried of holding one in midsummer instead, and it promised to arouse con siderable interest, though farmers are generally very busy at such a time. All the best of the year is seen at the county fair: the grandest output of the soil; the choicest fruit of vine, and shrub, and tree; the bred fowl of the county farms, the fattest swine, the sleekest kine, the power ful truck horse and clean-cut racer; and, withal, the handiwork in every art of man, woman and child for miles around. For nothing or nobody is excluded, and a great, gral!d thing is the county fair, with its contests, its rivalry, its diverse amusements, its exhilarating sports, its stimulating effects upon all for the twelve months to follow. It was about a matte r pertaining to his summer county fair, clue to be held at the Cranford county seat a few days later, that Lafe Lampton and Phil Kirtland were talking as they sauntered toward Jack Lightfoot's home that October afternoon. "Jack has gone up to the post office now," added Phil; "to see if there is any reply to our challenge." "He might not get it to-day," said Lafe, who was inclined to see the dark side of things-except apples. Then it was a case of seeing the inside-and tasting it. "He ought to get it to-day," replied Phil. "He wrote two days ago, and the managers at the fair grounds are usually very prompt in replying to such offers." "When does this midsummer fair come off?" "Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday of next week." "What ball teams already are engaged?" "The Milfords and Highlands play Tuesday morn ing," replied Kirtland. "Then the winning team con tests Wednesday morning with the Northport college boys." "And Jack has challenged the winner of that match, has he?" "Exactly!" exclaimed Kirtland, warming up a lit tle. "Don't you see the point, Lafe? vVe could have got the second-day game easy enough, but Jack hung off for the one of Thursday, the last day of the fair, and the best of the three." "Is that so ?" .'Sure! There's always the biggest crowd that day, and the most exciting and best horse races. Gee whit taker I'd sooner go the last day than both of the others. Here's another point. too." "What's that, Phil?" "If we Cranford boys can get the last day's ball game and win it, we shall beat a team that already has beaten a winner, and it will be all the more to our credit." "By granny, that's so," assented Lafe, digging into his second apple. "That's why Jack Lightfoot hung off for the Thursday game-see?'' "Of course I see it now, Phil, and it was a great move on Jack's part." "He is shrewd enough, Lafe, and' I take some little credit for throwing out a hint, too." "The ball games at the fair are pulled off in the morning, aren't they?" "Yes, from ten to twelve." "That would give us a bully good chance to see the afternoon running races, eh?" "Sure thing, and all of the other sports," cried Kirtland. "That's the way Jack sized it up. All of the best jockey races are down for Thursday afternoon, and it will be great if we can take them in." "We'll take them in if we're there," grinned Lafe. "And we'll be there all right, I'm thinking," declared Kirtland, significantly. "I'd just like to have our Cran ford boys get a crack at that Northport college bunch. I believe we could show them a thing or two on the diamond, for all they're a bit older than we are."


ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. 3 "Age doesn't always count," gr-owled Lafe. "Jack's "Holy smoke! if that was said to me," cried Kirt-got an older head on his shoulders than many a man of land, much tickled. six feet and forty years." There was, in fact, no barb of malice to these ar"Perhaps that's so," said Phil, a bit dubiously. rows shot at one another by the Cranford boys. "With the team work we can put up, and with Jack Tn,te blue to the backbone, and as loyal to one in the points, Phil, I'll bet we can wipe the green mat another as Romans of old, their jests and jokes were with any club that plays at the county fair." but the pepper and salt that made their lives the mer "That's just my opinion, Lafe, and I guess I'm some rier, and added savor to the true friendship that bound at catching, too." them together. "There come Tom Lightfoot and Wilson Crane," Before Crane could frame up any witty remark with cried Kirtland, abruptly. "They must have scudded which to respond to Lafe Lampton's blunt avowal, across l o ts. Let's make a break and get to the shed however, there came from the near distance the sound before them." of a long, shrill whistle, as keen and penetrating as Lafe complied, though not with much enthusiasm. that of a b o's un's call. He was a strong, hulky chap, and would rather do heavy work behind bat or on the gridiron rush line than indulge in sprinting merely for fun. He broke into a run, however, only to be quickly distanced by Kirtland, who was a lithe, swift-footed chap, and Lafe arrived puffing at the shed room soon after Tom Lightfoot, Jack s cousin, had got the door open and entered with Kirtland and Wilson Crane. The room was a good-sized one, and well fitted up for the purposes intended. On the walls were the trophies of many a hardfought and contest in the various fields of sport. Balls and bats, masks and mitts, golf sticks and h o ckeys, and-ah! but it would take a page to enumer ate the endless variety of sporting goods the place presented. "Haven't you seen Jack since school closed?" puffed Lafe, addressing Tom Lightfoot, as he entered the room and flopped into a chair. "Yes, we left him at the post office," said Tom. "The mail had just come in, but was not distributed. He said he would wait, while we came down and opened the room." "Gosh! I hope he ll hear from the fair managers." "He'll get an answer in this mail," declared Wilson Crane, confidently. "I feel it in my bones." "You couldn't feel it in anything else very well, seeing's you're most all bones," laughed Lafe. The laugh was joined in by all the others, and Wilson Crane, who was a tall, rangy chap, but as wiry as a steel spring, retorted good-naturedly : "Well, I wouldn t want t o be as fat as you are, Lafe. You know what animals run to flesh instead of brains, don't y ou?" "Yes," grinned Lafe. "A hog!" "Eureka!'' yelled Kirtland. "There's Jack's whis tie!" In an instant all four of the boys were bolting for the door, between the sides of which they became 'vvedged in a terrific scrimmage for a moment, resulting in none o f them getting out first, but all hands plunging forward in a body, with Lafe Lampton sprawling headlong over the greensward, and yells of laughter ringing from the others. It was such episodes as this, with its harmless en thusiasm, that made their lives more worth the living. "Whoop! hurrah!" shouted Tom, pointing up the street. "There comes Jack, and he's got the letter." All hands gazed in the direction indicated. A hundred yards away, running as if for dear life, Jack Lightfo o t was approaching with hi s cap in one hand, and with the other waviryg above his head the letter he had just received from the managers of the county fair. He was a tall, clean-cut athlete, and his gray-blue eyes were aglow with triumphant light when he dashed into the yard and joined his waiting friends. "It's all right, boys," he cried, in ringing tones. "I have landed the fish, and the game is ours "For Thursday?" cried every hearer "Yes." "Whoop! Hurrah!" "Gee whillikins cow! what a day we'll have of it!" "Listen," cried Jack; "and I'll read you the letter. It's very complimentary." "It ought to be," roared Lafe. "Let her go." I With a gesture Jack Lightfoot checked the noisy enthusiasm of his companions, and then proceeded to read aloud the letter he had received from the man agers of the county fair.


f ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. "MR. }ACK LIGHTFOOT, "Captain of the Cranford B. B. Club. "MY DEAR SIR: I have received your letter of even date, inclosing your challenge to the winner of the Wednesday mornjng ball game at the county fair grounds. After careful consideration by the fair man agers, and in view of the enviable record by your club thus far during the present season, 1t has been deemed to our advantage to accept your challenge for an exhibition game. We have, therefore, booked the Cranford B. B. Club for the Thursday morning game. Game called at ten o'clock sharp. "Yours truly, "]. SAGGS, Secretary." "There!" exclaimed Jack, as he concluded. "What's the matter with that?" "And what's the matter with Saggs ?" supplemented Lampton, throwing up his cap with a yell. Then all hands joined in with a roaring refrain from one of the school songs : "Saggs, Saggs, who the deuce is Saggs? Why, he's the manager of the county fair! And the Cranford ball nine will all be there! Whoop her up! Whoop her up Al ways on the square! Hurrah for Saggs and the county fair!" And then this boisterous outburst ended in a brief, utterly indescribable war dance, and thus the Cran ford boys were booked for the county fair. CHAPTER II. ABOUT OLD WELLINGTON. "It is a fine letter, there's no mistake about that," remarked Jack Lightfoot, while the boys were seated about the shed room a little later. "Oh, there'll be fun enough of all kinds," said Tom Lightfoot. "The town breaks wide open during the three days of the regular county fair in the fall, and this midsummer spell will be the same. Everybody seems to cut loose, and there are no restrictions placed upon anything." "And that's no dream," cried Kirtland. "Even the confidence men are given free rein those days. More than cine poor hayseed who thinks he can beat the shell game will drive home with less than he brings." "Or the sweat cloth," laughed Lafe. "Those are features that ought to be forbidden,'' remarked Jack, disapprovingly. "I don't believe in giving sharpers a privilege to swindle the ignorant." "Nor do I,'' said Crane, who nearly always sided with Jack. "Oh, well, nobody need bite at their bait," laughed Kirtland, with a toss of his head. "The con. men don't have a string on people to make them play. The ones who nibble are just as eager to win without giving anything in return, and at the worst none of them lose much." "That's true enough," admitted Crane. "For all that." insisted Jack; '"I think that honest sports, of a kind that harm no one, are much the best. For my part I look forward to seeing the running races most of all." "Me, too, Jack," cried Tom Lightfoot. "They are by far the most exciting, and it 1s not often we get a chance to see them." "I should say not." "There will be some good horseflesh on the track this year, too," added Jack, with a knowing head shake. "I have seen the list of entries that is adver tised, and there are some crackajacks down for the "So it is, Jack, yet no better than we deserve," plied his cousin. Thursday wind up." re"Is that so, Jack ?" "I should say not,'' chimed in Kirtland. "Our sea son's record this far is a good one, you know." "It was a. great stroke on your part, Jack, to land the last day's game for us," said Lafe Lampton, ad mirinrrlv. "We'll have a great day of it, aside from h the ball game." "That we will, Lafe," nodded Jack, "and the crowd there will be tremendous." "From all over the county, too," cried Kirtland. "Gee! but what an army of rubes will be there." "There will be no end of fun and sports,'' grinned Crane, curling up his pointed nose with a grimace of great anticipation. "I can hardly wait for the day t o come." "Two of them are New York horses that have been running at Brighton. One is a four-year-old, named Bunco, and the other is called Starlight. The owners and jockeys are coming with them, it is said, and they are known to be out for the stake." "What is the sfake, Jack?" "A thousand dollars for that race," replied Light foot. "It is the last one to be run and the managers have made a special feature of it. It is to be the big gest race ever held in these parts, so it is booked for the last attraction." "That is so as to hold the crowd until the last gun is fired," remarked "No doubt." Kirtland.


ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. 5 "How many entries are there, Jack?" "Up to date there are twelve, so last night's paper stated." "Is it to be a mile run?" "Seven furlongs, Lafe," replied Jack. "That is one eighth less than a mile." The boys always turned fo Jack Lightfoot fol." in forma.tion of this kine. Besides keeping thoraughly posted upon spo.rting events, J a,ck had a very retentive memory, and he could nearly always answer any question bearing upon such matters. He believed that anything worth doing at all was worth doing well. "Oh, well, I suppose one of those Brighton ringers will carry off the stuff," said Kirtland, a bit grimly. "The managers ought to have barred that push. It's mighty seldom that you find any of them on the square." "I am not so sure of them carrying off the stuff, Phil," replied Jack Lightfoot, with some assurance. "The professionals will make a big showing, no doubt, but there are several good horses in these parts, and it may not prove so easy to pick the winner." "That's right, too," nodded Lafe Lampton. "Gib son's three-year old, Nancy Lee, is a mighty promising little mare. Clean bred, too. If she shows her heels as well in a bunch as she does when running with a mate only, she'll leave some of the field behind he'r when she comes under the wire." "That she will, Lafe," assented Jack. "How about Tolman's gelding, Gimlet?" "I hear that he is entered for the last race, but I don't think he has even a look in," replied Jack. "Why so?" "He's too narrow chested," declared Jack, whose judgment in this direction was away over the average. "He hasn't got it in him to stand the racket. If Nancy Lee doesn't get nervous in so much company, she will show up far better than Gimlet, take my word for that." "Well, it will be a great race, that last one, which ever horse tu11ns the trick," said Kirtland. "It will be the biggest race ever seen in these parts, Phil." "No doubt of it." "As for our ball game," added Jack, "that comes in the morning, so we shall be able to take in all of the afternoon races. We must get in a little practice be fore then, and brush up our team work, for I'd sooner miss seeing every race than lose that ball game." "So would any of us, Jack." "Ah! here comes Brodie Strawn," cried Crane, peering out of the shed door. "He'll be glad to hear the good news." A sturdy young fellow was coming up the street, and, catching sight of Crane at the door, he waved his hand and then vaulted the fence and j(}ined the boys in the shed room. He was the first baseman of the Cranford ball nine, and the batting slugger af the whole team. It wa'S through Brodie Strawn's good work with the stick that the boys had crawled out of many a narrow hole, while a ball sent within reach of his mitt when on the first bag was always as good as smoth ered. "What's that!" he exclaimed, when the good news was told him. "Got that Thursday morning game, have you,?" "Nothing less, Brodie." "Good for you, Jack, and I'm mighty glad of it. I'll lace out some cutters that day, if I never did before." "We must pull the game off without fail," said Jack, showing Strawn the letter he had received from the fair managers. "After such a complimentary note as this, we cannot afford to go up. there and lose." "Not by a long chalk," cried Strawn, after read ing the letter. "We will win it all right, I'll bet my cap on that. Now I'v, e got some news to tell you fellows." The ears of all were pricked up at once, as the speaker quickly added : "vVho do you think has entered his horse for the big race at the fair?" "Dunno!" "Give it up!" "Out with it, Brodie!"' "None less than Mr. Nathan Conner Nellie Con ner's uncle," cried Strawn. Jack Lightfoot came down with a bound from the bench on which he was perched. "What?" he exclaimed, excitedly. "Not old Wellington! Not the big bay!" "Exactfy." "For the seven-furlong race?" "That's just the size of it," nodded Brodie. "By gracious, I'm glad to hear that!" cried Jack, with much enthusiasm. "One thing now is dead sure, boys, we shall know which horse to root for, every one of us."


LIBRARY. There was a very good reason for Jack Lightfoot's enthusiasm over this latest news. The Nellie Conner mentioned was a pretty Cranford girl, and a warm personal friend of Jack. More than that, she once had saved his life, just before the Milford ball game, by preventing his being trampled upon by a pair of runaway horses, while Jack was lying insensible on the road. This enthusiasm was very natural, then, when Jack heard that Nellie Conner's uncle was to have a horse entered in the biggest race of the fair. Nathan Conner, by the way, was a well-to-do dairy man, and possessed several good horses, among them the one mentioned. Old Wellington was a big, rangy bay of eight years, and was no stranger to thl'! race track, although two seasons had passed since he had been required to show his mettle. Nor was Jack Lightfoot a stranger to the horse, as far as that goes, for he frequently had ridden him in exercise for Mr. Conner, with whom he was very well acquainted Nothing would have suited the Cranford boys bet ter, taking the bunch as a whole, than to see the big race won by a horse owned by Nellie Conner's uncle. Hence their general satisfaction when told by Brodie Strawn that old Wellingtq.n was entered for the race.' ('Yes, yes, we shall know which horse to root foe, all right," said Lafe Lampton, with a series of vigorous noels. "But what chance has old Wellington of win ning against such a field as he must meet?" "No chance at all, I am sure," demurred Crane. "Don't you fellows be too certain of that," cried Jack, with a curious bright light in his earnest eyes. "I've ridden Wellington many and many a time, and there's mighty good stuff in him yet." "Do you really think so?" "I know so," declared Lightfoot, decidedly. "He is a strong, rangy old fell ow, and though his wind might not hold for a very long pull or for many heats, he can do great work on a single dash ,of seven furlongs. Take my word for it, boys, old Wellington will make a good showing." "That is my opinion, too," nodded Brodie Strawn. "I' cl give something for the privilege of riding him that race," added Jack, with a bright red spot show ing in either cheek. "Perhaps Mr. Conner would engage you," suggested Tom, who had an abiding faith in Jack's ability. "Oh, Jack can't do that," protested Crane "He would have to train some for it, and that would knock us out of his help in the ball game. He can't do both jobs that day, that's out of the question." "Oh, I wouldn't desert you in the ball game," Jack loyally declared. "I merely remarked that I would enjoy riding old Wellington in that race, for I know the horse from ears to fetlocks. Besides, it would be great sport, and I believe I could bring out all there is in him. Old Wellington knows me, too, and that goes for something." As a matter of fact, Jack would have given a good deal to have had the big bay mount in the coming race, but the next words of Brodie Strawn seemed to settle that matter forever. "It's all fixed, boys, who is to ride him," said he, with a glance from one to the other. "Mr. Conner has a ptofessional jockey corning here from New York." "A professional jockey!" exclaimed Jack. "Do you know who he is?" "He's the famous Tony Feiner," replied Brodie. "Mr. Conner has spared no expense to bring his horse in a winner, if possible." "Oh, ho! that makes things look a little different," cried Kirtland, cheerfully. "There may be some chance for old Wellington to win, after all." "Mr. Conner thinks so," nodded Strawn. "Did he tell you about this?" inquired Jack, with unabated interest. "Not he," replied BrOdie. "But his niece, Nellie, told my sister, Kate, and she told me." "Ah! I see," murmured Jack, thoughtfully. Then he added after a moment: "Well, boys, we'll go up there and do our level best to carry off that game. That done, whether we prove to be winners or losers, we'll all take in the big race and root our hardest for old Wellington to come first under the wire." "That we will, Jack." "I'd feel nearly as bad to see him lose the race as I would in case we dropped the ball game." "Let's expect to win in both events, that's the best way," cried Kirtland, hopefully. "So I do, Phil." "What time does the train leave here?" "We'll go up on the early one," said Jack. "That will give us a chance to look about a bit before our game is called." "So 'twill," nodded Strawn. "We should arrive at the fair grounds by nine o'clock." "And we are down for Thursday, remember that," added Jack. "Meantime we'll devote every hour that we can get to good, hard practice."


ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. 7 CHAPTER III. MAKING READY. As Lafe Lampton dry ly put it, there was "plenty doing" foc the Cranford boys during the next four or fi.ve clays. Few ball teams in that lotality could put up a faster oincl cleatl.er game than the Cranford boys. Each clay, too they watched the local papers for all news about the fair, and the excitement increased from the day on which it had opened. The Milford nine won from the Highlands in the first game, that of Tuesday, by a score of four to three. The game of Wednesday was to be between the Mil fords and the Northport college boys. This prom ised to be a hard-fought one, and the Cranford team was booked to play the winner of it the fallowing morning, the last day of the big fair. Jack Lightfoot hoped it would come down to a game with the college team, with which the Cranford nine never had played, and though he had lots of con fidence that they could win it, he, nevertheless, felt the least bit anxious over the outlook. For that reason he had kept the boys in constant practice, and studied the reports of the first game most carefully. While at practice Tuesday afternoon he had re marked that he wished some of his nine could see the game of W eclnesclay, yet circumstances were such that he could not go to the fair that clay. Bright and early, however, Phil Kirtland showed up at Jack's house and rang the bell. Jack had seen him coming and hastened to join h i m on the front steps. "Hello !" he exclaimed, seeing Kirtland in his best clothes. "\iVhat's up, Phil?" Kirtland laughed gleefully. "I heard what you said yesterday, Jack," he replied; 'and this morning I got my father's permission to go to the fair to-clay and size up that game. He's as anx ious as any of us that vve should win." Kirtland's father was quite wealthy, by the way, and to o k considerable interest in sport of vari o us kinds himself. Jack's face flushed with satisfaction when he heard this news. "Eureka !" he cried, shaking Kirtland by the hand. "That's capital, Phil." "I knew you'd be: glad to hear it." "That I am." "I'm g oing up on the early train, so as to have a look at the fair before the game is played," explained Kirtland "Then I'll come back on the no o n train, so as to be here for the afternoon practice." "That's the stuff," cried Jack, approvingly. "And it speaks well for you, Phil, that you are willing to return to practice instead of remaining to see the fair "Oh, my he.art is in our game, Jack, and don't you forget it," said Kirtland, warmly. "I believe you, Phil," nodded Lightfoot. Tow about to-day's game. I'm very sure that the Northport college boys will win, barring a fluke of some kind." "That's my opinion, too." "As for the in case pull off the game, I am satisfied that we can trim them up very handily. But I'm not so sure about that college bunch. We've never played them, and that's why I wished one of us h t could see what sort of a game t ey pu up. "I'll see it, Jack, make no mistake about that." "Now, what I want is this," explained Jack. "Prob ably none of them will know you, and you easily c_an

8 ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. "Nine to one m favor of the Northports," cried Kirtland. "Nine to oner' echoed Jack, with a quick flash of the eye. "That looks like hot work for us to-morrow. What kind of a game did the Milfords put up?" "A good one," said Kirtland, warmly. "Only two errors and those not very cos.t:ly But the Northports are sluggers from wayback, and made the Milfords' twirler look like thirty cents." "Are they fast in the field r demanded Jack. "Pretty warm," nodded Kirtland. "Their team work is not up to ours, but they pulled in every ball to-day that came within reach. If they play as good a game to-morrow we shall have our hands full." "Is the same pitcher going in against us?" "Yes. He's the best they have." "What's his delivery?" "Left-handed," said Kirtland. "With a wicked in shoot and a fair drop. Their only weak spot is at second base. He's a bit slow, but very sure of his thrC1w. The rest of them are a warm bunch." "Well, boys, we have an hour left before dark," cried Lightfoot, cheerfully. "Every man to his position till then, and every one of you in bed to-night before nine o'clock." As was customary, Jack's instructions were followed to the letter, that no after regrets should arise in case of losing the game. On his way home that afternoon Jack met Mr: Nathan Conner on the street, and the latter stopped him. "How's that game coming out, Jack?" he inquired, with interest. "Well, sir, we expect to win," replied Jack; "but it's no walkover for us." "I hope that you do, Jack, I'm sure," said the dairyman, heartily. "?[hank you, sir,'' b'0wed Lightfoot. "And I wish the same for you. I hear that you have entered old \V ellington for the big running race." "That's what I've done, Jack." "We all want to see him show to the front." Though he still wished it had fallen to his lot to r i de the fine old bay, Jack was too modest to express such a desire. The event was of so much importance, too, that he felt that he could not blame Mr. Conner for tak ing every precaution possible. That the latter had done so appeared in his reply. "Well, I l;a \ c. .;pa1 .::

ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. 9 usual headquarters, at seven o'clock, and then pro ceeded in a body to the railway station. The make-up of the nine was the same as during the earlier part of the season, and each carried his own suit and trappings. "Gee whittaker !" exclaimed Lafe Lampton, as they came in sight of the station. "What a crowd!" "'Everybody is going up on the early train," laughed Jack. "It is the biggest day of the fair and all wish to make the most of it." "You mean that they are going up to see us play," remarked Ned Skeen. "That's what's taking them to the fair in such mumbers." "And to see old Wellington win the big race," supplemented Jack Lightfoot. "Well, it looks to me," added Lafe; "as if there wouldn't be a soul left in Cranford." "Never mind," cried Kirtland. "The good old town will be here when we return. And we must come back victors, boys, mind that!" A ringing cheer from the great crowd greeted the ball nine as they approached, and the boys doffed their caps. Then Tom Lightfoot, who was treasurer and after the business end of the team, hustled away to pro cure tl:te necessary tickets. "Get cut rates, .Tom," said Lafe to him. "Look out for that." Tom glanced back and laughed. Meantime, Jack Lightfoot caught sight of two girls, amid a lively group at one end of the platform, and he went to speak to them. One was Kate Strawn, Brodie's sister, and the other was Nellie Conner. Both were as bright and rosy as girls could well be, and they greeted Jack cordially. "So you are going up to see us play, are you?" he asked. 1 "Yes, Jack, and to see dear old \Vellington rflce," replied Nellie. "Oh, I hope you both will win." Both of us will do our level best, you may be sure of that," declared Jack, smiling at her enthusiasm. "I'll tell you one thing, Jack," she whispered; draw ing a bit nearer. "Well?" "I believe that Wellington would win if you were to ride him," she explained, with confidential fervor. "I know that he is awfully fond of you, Jack, and would go like the wind if you were in the saddle and gave him the word." Jack laughed and p!ayfully pinched the back of her pretty hand. 1 "I hope, Nellie," said he, "that \Vellington is not the only one of the family wno is fond of me." This served only to make the girl's cheeks the rosier and her eyes the brighter; but before she could find words with wh ich to reply, the shi"ill toot of the ap proaching train was heard, and Jack hastened away to rejoin the ball team. In another minute the great crowd of people was surging aboard the train, and in sixty seconds more the station was being left behind, and all were bound for the mid-summer county fair. CHAPTER IV. BEFORE THE GAME. It was not quite nine o'clock when the vast fair grounds were reached by the Cranford boys. Having disposed of their luggage in the quarters al lotted them, they had nearly an hour in which to look about the fair before the ball game should be called. "We'd better stick together," said Jack, as they set,, forth from their dressing robm. "Then there will be no slip up when the time com es.'1 "That's a good idea," said Kirtland, as they reached the main grounds. In a huge building near the entrance of the fair was the early fruit and produce display, also no end of art and fancywork, in none of \;Vh1ch ,the boys then felt any interest. Lafe alone remarked, as he caught a glimpse through cine of the windows they were passing: "I'd like to get my hooks on one of those big, red, harvest apples on the table in there. Gee! but they are rippers." Beyond the building mentioned was a long line of tents and booths, in which food and meals could be procured, with no end of soft drinks, ice cream .and the like: Opposite these were numerous devices for amuse ment, and at the same time for separating the partici pants from their money. One of the schemes was for pitching a wooden ring over the top of one of a lot of cheap canes, all standing on end. "You land the ring and you get the cane! Only a dime a try! Every man and boy ought to carry a cane! Only a dime a try!" Such were the continous shouts of the manager of the scheme. 1.' .!


ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. L) no rcans alone, however, for his loud voice was only mingled with a score of oiher vocifer ous voices, each striving to be the loudest and to attract the most attention, and all addressing the gap irig crowd without ceasing. Near by was a long shooting gallery, three shots for a nickel. Beyond this was a merry-go-round, with twenty pairs of prancing, wooden steeds, each with a juvenile mount in frock or knickerbockers, and all whirling dizzily around to the music of an ear-racking band of three brass pieces. Beyond this attraction was a magician in a big, gilded wagon, doing tricks a part of the time and sell ing patent medicine between the tricks-that is, when he was lucky enough to find a buyer ainong the gazing throng. One of the first things to attract the Cranford boys, who were sauntering about together, was a scheme of two darkies for disposing of cigars One of the coons stood at the rope inclosing the s pace allotted them, and for five cents sold anyone the of throwing three basebarls at the head of the other darky, which was thrust through a hole in a big upright square of canvas some twenty feet away. All that one could see of darky number two was his frizzly head, with its white eyeballs and grinning teeth. "Oh, by gracious, let's have a crack at that," cried Lafe Lampton, the moment he caught sight of the scheme. ... "You might hurt the poor fellow if you were to hit him," remarked Jack, not much inclined to such sport. "Hurt him!" cried Lafe, derisively. "You can't hurt a darky by hitting him on the head. You might as well crack one of those balls against a brick wall. Besides, he'll dodge them and it's ten to one you can not hit him if you try." "Heah you are, gents!" shouted darky number one, holding up three of the balls. 'Walk right up, gents! Have a shot at Pom1 head Three balls for a dime. One cigar if you once. Two cigars if you hit him twice. Five c1 rs if you hit him with all three balls. Five for a dime, gents, if you hit with every ball. Walk right up and have a shot at Pompey's head." Pompey's vast grin seemed to invite the fusillade quite as much as the other's vociferous cries, and Lafe declared roundly: "I'll take one cigar away from that bunch, or I'll know the reason why." This brought all of the boys to a stviJ the line, and Lafe paid his ten cents and took the balls. "What do you want of the cigars?" inquired Jack. "You don't smoke." "I'll give them away," laughed Lafe. ''1 don't want the cigars, as far as that goes. All I want is a crack at that fellow's black head. He looks sassy." "Come on, sah," shouted Pompey, who had over heard all that was said. "Hit it if you can, sah. Don't be afeard o' hurtin' me, sah. Dis yeah block o-' mine am like a chuck o' wood. Yo' can't hurt it, sah." ''Look out, then;" shouted Lafe. "Here goes." He drew back a step withthe last, then sent a straight liner at the darky's head. Pompey's head went to one side like a flash. Biff came the ball against the canvas, then dropped to the ground. "Yah, yah!" yelled the darky, at the top of his lungs. "What'd I tell yo'?" "Look out for number two," roared Lafe. Then he let it go. Biff Again he had missed Pompey's head by an inch or two, and the mark yelled with delight. "Yo'll have to shoot straight'n that to tote off any o' our Henry. Clays," he cried, and the crowd that had gathered near laughed loudly. This made Lafe feel a little sheepish, and he laid himself out on the last of his three balls. "Give me a little more room," he whispered to Kirt land, who was nearest to him "If I don't plunk that black chestnut burr this time I'll go without my din ner." "Yes, you will!" muttered Phil, derisively. Lafe drew back and gave his arm a clean sweep The ball left his hand like a bullet frorri a gun. It was going straight to the mark. Pompey's gleaming eyes were upon it, however, and he ducked just at the right moment. Bang the. ball came against the canvas just above his head, and the crowd roared again. ''You lose, sah," said the darky who sold the balls. "Try it again, sah. Better luck next time." "Here, get out of the way, Lafe," cried Ned Skeen, who was a nervous, excitable chap and could not re main idle at such a time. "You're no good. Let me have a crack at him." Lafe felt a little chagrin at his bad luck, and not hoping for much better if he tried again, he thought it a good scheme to shift the laugh upon Ned, in case he also failed.


ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. I I So ha dsew to one side. while Ned paid over his dime for the fun of having the three shots. Pompey got ready again and grinned broader than ever. "Let 'em come, sah," he shouted. "Yo' hit de target, sah, and yo' gits de goods. Bing! now yo' re at it!" The first ball had left Ned's hand like a flash of light. It went a foot wide of the mark, however, and a yell of derision greeted the bad shot. "Say!" yelled Pompey. "I won't move when yo' fire. Y a1 can't hit me if I keep still." This rattled Ned a little and his second shot was not much better. The third, however, just grazed the darky's ear, and missed only enough so that he failed to get the cigar. "Here, Jack, you have a crack at him," cried Wil son Crane, seizing Jack by the arm and drawing him forward. "Some of us must hit that fellow, or we shall be put down for a lot of no-goods." "Really, Crane, I don't care to." "Oh, come, try one or two of your in-shoots on him," pleaded Crane. "Just to see if you can reach him." "Come on, Jack," added Kirtland. Thus Jack finally consented to make the attempt. Jack Lightfoot never half did anything, moreover, and when he took the three balls he was resolved to. hit the mark if possible. Yet he said to the other darky, quietly: "You are sure I shall not hurt him, mister?" "Naw !" was the reply, with a grimace. "Yer can't hurt him. As fur as that goes, yer can't hit him." "Can't I?" said Jack, carelessly. Then he drew back and poised one of the balls in his reliable old right. A momentary hush fell upon the gazing crowd. Pompey's eyes took on a sharper gleam. Jack said to himself that he was merely sending a ball for the plate, with three balls and two strikes al ready called on him. He delivered a long outcurve. The darky grinned when he saw it coming, and thought it was going a yard out of the way. It was coming fast, however, and suddenly it swerved and shot at him like a rattlesnake out of a clump of grass. Plunk! It caught Pompey squarely in the middle of the forehead, and bounced nearly back to Jack's feet. The yell that went up could have been heard a mile away. Even the darky at the rope was compelled to laugh. "Good shot, sah," he cried, with a wink at his com panion. "You get the H .... nry Clay, sah." "Here, let me hold it for you, Jack," cried Kirt land, taking the cigar. "Give him another in the same spot, just for luck." "Let her come, sah," shouted Pompey, who was not in the least hurt. "Yo' can't do it ag'in." Jack had become a little warmed up to the sport by this time, and was beginning to use his head. He shifted his delivery on the second ball, and sent in a swift in-shoot, just the opposite of the first. Pompey figured on its coming the same as the other and dodged quickly to one side, with a result that he dodged right at the ball. Crack! This it hit him squarely on top of his head and flew clean over the canvas. "Foul ball!" yelled Lafe Lampton, in a frenzy of glee. "Gee whillikins that was a corker, Jack." The crowd was applauding noisily and shouting as if for dear life. "Heah's another Henry Clay, sah," cried the darky, again producing the cigar box. "Hit him the third time and you get five more. Don't be afeared, sah. You can't hurt him." Pompey was still grinning broadly, evidently invit ing the last shot, and the wcitching crowd was on net tles. Jack felt as cool as a cucumber, however. He steadied himself for a moment, rising a little on his toes, then sent in a straight drop ball, as swift as a flash of lightning. It reached its mark before Pompey fairly realized that it had started. Bing! It caromed from the darky's head, shot over those of the crowd, and then went flying among the horses of the merry-go-round, never to return. "That's enough, boys," said Jack, drawing back from the rope. His voice was fairly drowned by the cheers of the crowd, and even Pompey himself had come out from behind the canvas and was applauding, at the same time scratching his kinky head. "Not hurt, are you?" called Jack, laughing.


I2 ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. "Not a bit, sah," cried the darky. "Yo' re all right, sah, yo' are. That nebber was done to me before." "There's always a first time," cried Jack, pocketing the cigars. "Come on, boys. We'll see what we can find elsewhere." "Jerusha !" exclaimed Lafe, as the boys made their way through the crowd and sought other attractions. "If you send them in like that this morning, Jack, we'll make the Northport boys look like butter on a hot day." "It was great, Jack, for a fact," added Crane. "Oh, it merely served to limber up my arm," laughed Jack. "That darky's head must be as hard as a pine knot, for I sent every ball for all I had in me." "What are you going to do with the cigars?" 'Give them away to a party I have in mind." "Hello! going on over yonder?" cried Lafe, abruptly. The place indicated by Lafe was a secluded corner near the high fence inclosing the grounds, where a group of men had collected well out of general obser vation. Jack at once suspected that some kind of a gambling scheme was going on, as such things are known to be winked at sometimes at many of the county fairs, just to draw the larger crowds and so swell the gate receipts. "It looks to me as if they were gambling," said Jack, as the boys halted and gazed toward the group. "Let's go and a look at them," suggested Kirt land. "We don't want any part in that kind of business," replied Jack, with some disapproval. "No, but we want to see all tliere is going on," growled Kirtland, who was a sticker for having his own way. "We are not obliged to play, just b<:!cause we look at them." "Come on, Jack," said Lafe. "We'll not stay there long." So Jack Lightfoot went with the others. Back of a small table placed quite near the high fence a flashily dressed man was standing, cleverly manipulating three ordinary playing cards, two aces and one queen. "He's a three-card monte man," whispered Jack, as t hey drew nearer. Lightfoot was right, and the boys lingered to watch the gambler's game. First he showed the three cards to all, so that the face of them could be plainly seen, and then with a quick, curious throw he cast them face down on the table, a few inches apart. Then, with the characteristic talk of such fellows, he offered to bet any of the spectators that they could not pick out the queen from the three cards-or the "old woman," as he called her. Most of the spectators were countrymen, far too easily duped by such a scheme. The gambler had a confederate, moreover, who pre tended to be a stranger, yet who nearly always picked the right card and won the bet, and his apparent suc cess only servt!d to lure the countrymen on. "Come on, now," the gambler was crying, as the approached. "It's easy money. All you've got to do is cover my bet and pick the old woman. I,t's like finding money in the road. A dollar with any gent that he can't pick her. Only a dollar, gents. Not enough to make or break any man. Look sharp, now, and I'll throw them again. See, two aces and a queen. One, two, three, and away they go. Now, gents, a dollar with any man that he can't pick the old wonian." A rube with pointed chin whiskers and a straw in his mouth planked down a dollar and took the bet. "Good for you, Cy," cried the gambler. "I'm glad there's one sport here. Let her go, now. Pick the old woman and you win the money." The countryman ambled closer to the table, and with eyes aglow made a dive at one of the cards. He picked up one of the aces. "Waal, I'll be etarnally gal-darned!" he cried, with a loud nasal twang. "I could jest a swored thet air was the keerd." "You lose, Cy," said the gambler, coolly pocketing the money. "Try it again though, Cy. Mebbe you'll hit it right the next ):ime. Look sharp, and there they go again. A dollar to any who can pick the old woman." Cy, so called, made a second attempt and lost again. "Gosh all hemlock! can't I see straight?" he snarled, while the crowd all laughed and the bunco man pulled in the dollars. Jack Lightfoot had watched him make the several and Jack's eyes were sharper than those of any cat. On the very second throw he saw how the trick was done, yet he waited for the third and fourth just to be absolutely sure. When the gambler picked up the cards, moreover, Jack caught sight of the face of them and knew he was right.


ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. 13 He had no wish to gamble, however, but he had noticed a countryman at one side whose dejected coun tenance indicated that he had lost some money. Jack edged over beside him presently, and asked, softly: "Have you been playing against that game?'' The countryman looked up at him and nodded. "I've lost five hull dollars, half er what I heel with me," he whispered. "Jimminy beeswax! I'll git the blamdest jawin' a man ever got when my wife gits wind of it." Jack laughed softly and said : "\Vill you promise never to gamble again, m case I win it back for you?" The countryman jumped at the offer like a fish at a fly. "You bet your woolen socks I will," he whispered, eagerly. "Kin ye do it?" "Easily," nodded Jack. "I know how the trick is done." "Tell me, by gosh!" "No, but I'll tell you what to do," said Jack. "You offer to bet him your other five dollars after his next throw. Meantime, I will step over yonder, just to the right of him." "And what then?'' "After the cards are down on the table," whispered Jack, "you glance at me and I'll tell you the one to pick. If it's the one to the right of you, I'll turp my head that way, or the opposite if it's the one to the left. In case the queen is in the middle, I will bow my head straight forward. bo you understand?'' "Say, what is this?" queried the countryman, sus piciously. "A game to git my other fiver?'' '"If you lose," replied Jack, softly, "I'll make you a present of two fives." "Bully boy with a glass eye!" muttered the other. "Thet's gotx:l enough fur me." ''I'll go ewer yonder, then, and you get ready to bet," said Jack. "You are sure you understand my signals?" "Sartin!" "Don't be afraid, then. I'll not fail you." Then Jack drew back to his former position. The gambler was still ta-lking glibly and throwing the cards. Presently Jack nodded to the countryman, and the latter hopped nearer and cried : "&ay, mister, I'll bet yer five I can pick the old hen out o' th<;it bunch." The gambler took the bet with a loud laugh, and planked down a five. Jack gave his head a toss to the right, and the countryman made a dive for the card indicated. He picked up the-queen! Jack Lightfoot had hit the nail on the head. The gambler drew back with a look of amazem e then glanced sharply around. But he never knew what had queered his infamou s swindle, for Jack looked as innocent as a baby. The funny part of the episode. however, was the move made by the countryman. He made a dive for both five-dollar bills, uttered a yell of delight, and then ran off across the fair grounds as if Satan was after him--or his wife. Jack Lightfoot laughed and glanced at his watch. "It's nearing ten, boys," he cried. "V.l e must get up to our dressing room. The game will be called in a quarter hour." CHAPTER V. AT THE TRACK STABLES. lt was precisely ten o'clock when the ball game was called and the Cranford nine went into the field against the Northport college boys. Jack Lightfoot was in the box, with Lafe Lampton behind the bat, and the nine as a whole never pre sented a better appearance. The field was laid out in the vast ring of the mile race track, and was as level as a barn floor. This location of the diamond enabled the occupants of the track grand stand to see both the ball game and the bicycle races in progress at the same time, and a crowd of nearly five thousand people were gathered to witness both events. The interest of nearly all, however, was centered upon the ball game, as was evident from the thunders of applause, a roar like that of Niagara, that greeted every good play on the part of either team. It would be interesting to describe the various exciting features of the game, and note the brilliant plays made by both sides, but the events that followed were so much more important that they must be got at with out delay. It was half-past eleven when the game ended, with a score of two to one in favor of the Cranfords, and the applause in the grand stand and all around the vast oval was like the roar and roll of thunder. Flushed with pride and excitement Jack Lightfoot led his companions back to their dressing room, where


14 ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. they removed their dust-soiled su i ts and got into their ordinary clothes. The glow of well-earned victory was in the cheeks of all, and the day was made the brighter because of their good fortune. "Now if old Wellington can win the big race," re marked Jack, while he was dressing; "that is all I will ask for one day." "Somehow I kind of feel that he is going to win," declared Wils o n Crane, with his usual confidence. "I feel it in my bones." "That's a good sign," cried Lafe, laughing. "When ever Crane feels it in his bones, things generally turn that way." "I hope it may be true," said Jack, smiling. "What time do the afternoon races begin?" mquired Kirtland. "One o clock sharp." "And the big race?'' "That will come off about five." "There' s plenty of time to look about, then, before the fun starts?" said Ned Skeen, hurrying into his coat. "I want to see the show of cattle. I've not been half over the grounds "When and where do we eat?" asked Lafe Lamp ton, who always had his appetite along with him. "I'm as empty as a drum. I'd give two days of my life for a quart of apples." Jack Lightfoot laughed, as did all the others. "Mr. Saggs has a0rranged for our dinner," said he. "Bully for Saggs !" cried Lafe, with a look of relief. "We are to have it pavilion," added Jack. reserved for us at half-past twelve in the big "There will be a special table "Good enough! I won't do a thing to what's on it," grinned Lampton. "There's no longer any need of our sticking to gether, is there Jack?" asked Brodie Strawn, who was about ready to light out. "Not at all, said Jack. "Get all the fun you can, boys and we'll meet in hctlf an hour at the dinner table. A& for me, I am going down to the track stables. I want to see in what kind of shape old Weilington is." "Huh! there won't be any fun at the stables," ejacu lated Lafe. "I can see stables and horses every day in the week." "Each to his own taste," replied Lightfoot, cheer fully. "I'll see you later, boys. I'm bound off to have a look at the big bay." None of the others seemed inclined to accompany him down to the track stables, so Jack started off alone. With the ball game now well off his mind, Jack's en tire interest centered in the coming race. He was so anxious for Mr. Conner's horse' to win that he could think of nothing else, and. he headed straight for the stables to see what he could learn about it. The stables, which covered nearly half an acre, were located in a remote part of the vast grounds, below the great oval track. The crowd of people was not so great in that local ity, as none of the other attractions were in that part of the grounds. The people there consisted chiefly of horsemen, jockeys, and a little army of hostlers and grooms, who worked in the various stables and looked after the racers. Besides these, however, there were a number of men who made up books on the various races, gamblers, in fact, and who fixed the betting odds on the different horses. Along with all of moreover, there were numerous sporting men from all of the neighboring cities and towns, who had come there to bet on the races, and who wished to look over the various horses and get an idea of their speed and quality before they should appear on the race track. It was into the midst of this lot of men that Jack Lightfoot made his way, after crossing the track oYal ; yet none of them recognized him as one of the crack ball players, and so he attracted but little attention. After making a few inquiries Jack learned from one of the liostlers in which of the numerous separate stables Mr. Conner's horse was quartered, and thither he hastened. The quarters allotted to Mr. Conner were at the furthest end of the long row of stables, which were little more than separate sheds, in fact:, with doors that could be locked, and with a comfortable stall in each. As he approached the open door Jack caught sight of Mr. Conner's regular groom at Cranford, with whom he was well acquainted. "Ah! hello, Jim," he cried, halting at the door. "May I come in ?" Jim Hogan, which was the groom's full name, ut tered a cry of pleasure. "Bedad, and is that you, Jack?" he replied, hastening to shake hands with the Cranford boy. "Nobody else, Jim."


I / ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. 15 "Can you come in, is it?" cried Hogan. "Faith, ye're as welcome as the sunlight, so ye are." "Thanks, Jim." "And it's your team)hat was after winning the ball game, I'm told. By these five fingers across, Jack, I might a knowed your team would win it. The Cran ford boys can't be downed by any in these parts." Jack laughed a little at Hogan's enthusiasm, then pulled out the cigars he had won that morning. "Here are a few cigars for you, Jim," said he. "For me, Jack?" "Sure thing! I got them pitching ball at a coon's head," laughed Jack, as the ludicrous incident recurred to him. "1 thought you would enjoy them, Jim, and I never smoke, you know." "Begotra, Jack, ye' re all right," cried Hogan, cheer fully accepting the several cigars. "I'll kape them till after the race, I will. How was you after knowing I was down here?" "I met Mr. Conner on the street last evening, Jim, and he told me you were to be here to look after old Wellington." "So that was the way of it, eh?" "Now tell me, Jim, how is old Wellington doing?" And Jack turned and approached the stall in which the big bay was quartered. Old Wellington had already heard Jack's voice, and now he swung round in the broad stall, whinnying softly and rubbing his velvety nose over Jack's shoul der, when the latter came to fondly pat his outstretched neck. "Sure, knows ye all right," cried Hogan, heartily. "Bedad, and he's as glad as I am to see ye. There niver was the like of you, Jack, in all the world. No, niver !" "The horse appears to be in pretty good form, Jim," said Jack, carefully looking the animal over. "Good form, is it?" cried Hogan, with an amusing laugh. "Faith he niver was better. How else would he be, Jack, wid me having the care of him." "That's right, too, Jim," laughed Jack. "What are the chances of his winning the big race, do you think?" "Chances?" Hogan spoke the last in a careful whisper only, and glanced sharply over his shoulder toward the open door. This made it plain enough to Jack that not very much was being given out about old wellington's chance, and Jack's hopes rose several degrees. "Whist!" whispered Hogan, taking him by the arm and drawing him still further from the door. "I'll say it to you, laddie, but don't give it away. Don't Jet it go any further." "Not fo,r the world,. Hogan," said Jack, with ever increa sing interest. "If ye've got any money to bet, Jack, put it all o n old Wellington, ivery copper of it." "But I never bet, Jim, on anything." "Wull, I'm only saying if ye do." "Then you think old Wellington will win, do you?" "It's dead sure of it I am," said Hogan, with subdued earnestness." "So is Feiner, the jockey who's as plazed wid his.fount if th,: stake was right here in our pockets this very mmute. "By gracious, Jim, I'm glad to hear this," said Jack, most heartily. "But mind ye, Jack, wan thing," added Hogan, im' pressively. "What's that?" "Say niver a word to Felner that I wls after telling ye this. I know I can trust ye, lad, or I'd not a done so. The jockey might not like it-sure I know he'd not." "I won't breathe it, Hogan, on my word," protested Jack, warmly. "Faith, and I know _ye'II not. Then ag'in, lad, it's like this. Felner's a funny little dog, so he is, and wants no one to know what the big bay can do. That'll make the odds agin' him the better, d'ye see?"" "Certainly," nodded Jack. "The bookies will think he hasn't a look in to win." "Ay, that's just it," wqispered Hogan. "Then, l:iere's another thing, d ye see? The other j ockeys won't be so watchful-like of Felner when it comes to the race, and he can run the horse to the better ad v:antage." "That's a clever scheme, too," nodded Jack, quick to appreciate the And he remembered it a little later, too. "Oh, it's a wise guy is little Feiner," said Hogan. with a vigorous shake of his head. "Divil a trick of the race track that he's not on to, Jack. Faith, I like him the better the more r see of the little rascal." "He's a small man, then?"' inquired Jack, with in terest. "Small, is it?" laughed weigh a hundred pounds. self, Jack." Hogan. "Bedad, he'd not Not much less than your"Is that so, Jim?" rejoined Lightfoot. "Sure, that's so; the bay won't have too much


16 ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY:. weight to carry," explained Hogan. "He'd not go as fast with a big man on his back." "Of course not, Jim. I should have thought of that." "Then aizy, lad!" There was a sound of approaching footsteps out side the stable door, and Hogan held up a warnmg finger. Jack Lightfoot now began to see that caution, secrecy and cunning figured strongly in the business of the race track, more so than he ever had imagined. Of the trickery and knavery to be found there, how ever, Jack Lightfoot had yet to learn. Hogan had turned and hastened toward the open door. Nearly at the same moment a small, rakish-looking man about forty years old appeared at the door. It was the man of whom they had been speakingTony Felner, the famous jockey. CHAPTER VI. JACK LIGHTFOOT'S SUSPICIONS. It was the first time Jack Lightfoot ever had met a professional jockey, and he looked him over with in terest. Mr. Feiner was a lithe, slender, little man, with a thin face, and eyes as sharp as those of a ferret. He had just come from his lunch, and was clad in a brown, plaid suit with cap and gaiters to match, and he wore a blazing diamond in his shirt front. A gleam of distrust flashed up in his eyes when he saw Jack in the stable, and he asked, quickly, with a keen, cutting voice : "Who's this, Hogan?" He was afraid that Jack might be some stranger, for at such times the stable men have to very care ful whom they admit, lest some job has been put up to secretly injure a horse in sdrne way, and so prevent his winning a race. Hogan quickly dispelled Mr. Felner's misgivings, however, by explaining that Jack was an intimate friend of Mr. Conner, and as anxious as anyone to see old Wellington win the race. Then Ifogan introtluced the two, and Felner came and shook hands with Jack. "I remember your face now," said he, smiling. "You're the lad who was in the box for the Cranford ball team this morning." "That's right, sir laughed Jack. "You did good work, .too," added Felner, approvingly. "It's not often a chap of your weight can twirl a ball so cleverly." This pleased Jack very much, for all he knew it to be a fact, and he now took quite a fancy for the New York jockey. Before he could make any reply, however, two ether men appeared at the stable door and stepped inside. Jack did not fancy their looks, and felt suspicious the moment he laid eyes on them. One was a big, flashily dressed man, clad with a suit loud enough to be heard a mile away. His companion was a thin, crafty-looking chap, much younger, with eyes as piercing as needles. Feiner knew both of them, however, but ad dressed only the big man. "How are you, Slattery?" said he, without much cordiality. "When did you come down?" "On the noon train, Tony," was the reply. "I thought I'd run down and see if I could pick up my expenses. It has cost a good bit to send Bunco down here along with a groom and a jockey." Jack pricked up his ears and surveyed the big man more attentiveiy. He no.w rightly guessed thatSlattery was the owner of one of the horses entered for the big race, the one named Bunco. He looked all over like a sporting man, and one willing enough to take any advantage he could get, whether by fair means or foul. The more Jack Lightfoot looked at him the less he liked him. And the same was true of Slattery's companion. Feiner nodded indifferently to the horseman's last remark, and said in reply : "There's not much money in these county-fair races, Slattery, after all." "Not unless one can pick up a bundle on outside bets," growled Slattery. "And there's always a chance to go lame at that, Felner, in case you get up against some unknown ringer. I hear that you're down to ride to-day." Felner didn't seem inclined to talk much, and he only said, indifferently: "Yes." "Is this your mount?" asked Slattery, glancing sharply at old Wellington. Jack Lightfoot had drawn to one side, and stood steadily watching the two' strangers. Neither of them paid any attention to him, and had no idea that he distrusted them.


--> ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. 17 Felner nodded carelessly, and then replied, tersely: "Yes, that's the horse I am to ride." "Any good?" asked Slattery, with a searching stare at the shrewd little jockey. Feiner shook his head a bit dubiously. "Can't say till I've ridden him in a race," he said, doubtfully. "He may bolt or balk when it comes to getting away with a bunch." Jack was about to volunteer some information to the contrary, when he suddenly caught a warning wink from Jim Hogan, and then he began seeing the point of Felner's evasions. The little jockey was keeping things dark, so to speak. "He looks a bit strong," growled Slattery, still surveying the horse. "Has he got a record?" "'Not that I know of," said Felner. "What d Q you think of him, Tony?" "Only what I've said. Can't tell much till I've ridden him." "'You can tell what showing he has made with a mate. Do you think he's got any chance against such horses as BuncQ and Starlight?" Feiner again shook his head. "On the level, Slattery, I don't," said he. For a moment Jack felt his heart sink toward his boots. Felner's statement was just the opposite of that con fidentially made by Jim Hogan. Then Jack caught another wink from Hogan, and again he saw the point. The jockey was merely blinding his inquisitive vis itors. Suddenly he cried, a bit sharply, to Slattery's companion: "You keep away from th.e horse, Cassidy. You can look at him all you like, but don' t lay a band on him." Cassidy's little eyes took on an ugly glitter. "What d'ye mean by that, Feiner?-" he said, curtly. "Just what I say, Cassidy," said Feiner, coolly. "You may look but you mustn't touch." "D'ye think I want to harm the homely old rake?" snarled Cassidy, resentfully. "What I think doesn t matter," replied Feiner, without a change of tone. "You do what I say and keep your hands off the horse. I've known a horse to get a skin injection that spoiled him for a race, only by some chap laying a hand on him on the sly. I don't say you d do any crooked work like that, Cassidy, of course not. All I say is-keep away from the horse." "You'd better not say I'd do anything like that," replied Cassidy, with threatening voice. "I never did yet." Feiner knew this was a lie, and Cassidy's face showed it, but the little jockey said no more on the subjett. Cassidy then moved back and drew toward the stable door. Slattery presently walked the same way, still looking at the horse. Old Wellington starnd back at them, too, and Jack thought that the eyes of the big bay also looked sus picious, as if some animal instinct warned him against the two visitors. "You talk as we were a phir of crooks, Feiner," growled Slattery, pa.using at the door. "Oh, not at all, sir," said Feiner, quietly. "But you know the rules of a track stable, Slattery, as well as I do. You'd break the head of any stranger who ven tured near your horse, Bunco, within an hour or two of a race." "Well, I am no stranger to you," said Slattery, bluntly. "That's true enough, sir, but I don't know Cassidy overwell. And what little I do kno.w of him isn't of the best," added Feiner, a fearless frankness that made Jack Lightfoot quite admire the little jockey. 1 Cassidy appeared about to make some angry retort, but Slattery quickly checked him, laughing a bit grimly, and turned to.ward the door. "Sorry to have intruded, Felner, since you're so off said he, carelessly. "I'll give you a tip, how ever. Play Bunco for a winner and Starlight for place. If you put your stuff any other way, Feiner, you'll walk home." "Well, the walking isn't so very bad, Slattery," said Feiner, laughing oddly. Then the two men withdrew and went sauntering toward one of the other stables. Hogan glanced at Jack and grinned silently. Feiner followed the two men with his gaze for a moment, and then muttered, grimly : "Crooks, both of them! As dirty crooks as ever queered a good horse or trod a race track." "Bedad, they look it, Tony, the both of 'em." "Go get your dinner, Jim," said Felner,icurtly. "I'll hang around here till you come back." Jack did not care to remain alone at the stable with the jockey, so he accompanied Hogan away, and went with him as far as the tent in which the track em ployees were given their meals.


18 ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. "Did you know those two fellows, Jim?'' he asked, on the way. Hogan shook hi s fiery-red head. "Divil a thing do I know av thim, Jac k," said he. "Feiner seemed to know 'e m, th o ugh." "And he evidently does not think well of them "Sure, lad, it had that look." "What sort of a horse is Bunco, Jim?" "Wull, I'm not able to say, Jack, from what I've seen av him," replied the groom. "But thim as know, or thinks they do, says he be the horse to put the stuff on." "All except Fel ne r eh?" queried Jack, signifi cantly. Hogan gave him a quick g l ance "Mind ye, lad, that's atween us," said he. "Not a word av what I was after telling ye." "Trust me, Jim," protested Jack. "I'll not breathe it." "It might cost us the race, lad, if ye did "None would feel worse over that than I should," r eplied Lightfoot, as his companion halted at the tent. "Do you go in here, Jim?" "Yes. Here's where we a t e." "I suppose I may come down to the stable again by and by." "The sooner the better, Jack, as fur as I'm con cerned," said Hogan, warmly. "I think ye'll be after finding Mr. Conner there a bit later." "I shall come down after I get my dinner, t hen," de clared Jack. "I want to know all that's going on with old Wellington." Jack Lightfoot little dreamed what he was destined to learn, however CHAPTER VII. RACE-TRACK TRICKERY. The noon hour is about the only period of rest for spectators at a big county fair. In fact, however, this can hardly be called a period of rest, for in the crush and jam the hustle for a square meal is perhaps the hardest work of the day. Jack Lightfoot, after parting from Hogan, hastened up to the big pavilion to join the other boys. He arrived there just at noon, and found them gathered at the special table reserved for them, where a bountiful meal was provided. During the half hour thus agreeably spent, particu larly by Lafe Lampton, Jack listened to the several stories of the fun they had been having since the ball game, and the numerous attractions they had viewed. But Jack's mind, despite their g l owing narratives, per sisted in going back to the track stables and in dwell ing upon the two ill-favored men he had seen there The bad impression they had made ori him would not down, and he kept saying to himself, despite his attempt to throw off his misgivings : "There's something wrong. There's some crooked work going on. There is some scheme afoot to beat old Wellington." These thoughts persisted in forcing themselves upon him, and affected him so deeply that he could scarcely eat his dinner No sooner was the meal ended than he arose and said: "Where are you bound now, boys?" He was anxious to get away alone. He wanted to return to the stables, knowing that he should feel easier if he could see with his own eyes that everything was all right. Most of his companions still were bent upon looking about the fair grounds, however, before going clown to see the races, so Jack took advantage of this and told them that he would agam visit the stab les and would see them later. "What the deuce is the matter with him?" asked Lafe Lampton, after Jack had slipped away alone. "I never knew him so still." "fie does appear kind of shut up ," said Kirtland, to whom Lafe had spoken "May be he isn't feeling well." "Bosh!" growled Lafe. "Jack Lightfoot always feels well, the same as I do after a big dinner. More likely he has got something on his mind. He looks that way." "Instead of something on his stomach," laughed Kirtland, as they came out of the pavilion. "Well, I guess Jack is able to take of himself


ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. 19 '"Oh, there's no doubt of that," admitted Lafe. Jack already had passed out of view and was hastening toward the race track, intending to cross the oval and return to the stable old Wellington was quartered. He now found his way impeded by avast crowd that was gathered to witness the race. Everybody seemed to be heading for the track, or for some vantage point from which it could be viewed. The huge grand stand was black with .people, looking like flies in a colossal trap. It then was one o'clock, and the first race was soon to be started. The horses entered for this race were already out warming up, and Jack felt his blo od mo

20 ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. "That must be Slattery's jockey, the one who is to Cassidy. "But how do you know Bunco 1s a sure ride Bunco,'' thought Jack. "By gracious, it looks to me as if those two fellows had sent him out here, in order that they may talk in private "They were careful enough to speak low while com ing down this way, and I'm blessed if I don't make an attempt to discover what they now are discussing." The resolve no sooner was made than it was put into execution. Taking care that he should not be observed, Jack st ole around the stable, between it and the one adjoin ing, and approached it from the rear. He found there was no window in the back wall, only one having a strong wooden shutter, and it was tightly closed Presently, however, Jack discovered something that he thought would serve him quite as well as a wm dow, if not even better. It was a knot hole in one of the cheap boards of which the building had been made, and was about two feet from the ground. "Gee whiz! I'll take a chance of that," thought Jack, the moment his eyes fell upon it. "I'll see what I can discover through that knot hole. In case I am seen, Ican leg it before they lay hands on me Jack knew that, in case it came down to a sprint, no living man on the whole fair grounds could catch him. Dropping to his hands and knees he crept close to the stable wall, then carefully peered through the knot hole. He could see the interior of the stable. Bunco, a rawboned roan, was standing close by the wall, and Jack was gazing directly under him Slattery and his evil-eyed companion, Cassidy, were seated on two wooden talking earnestly Though their voices were somewhat lowered, Jack could easily hear what they said, there being only the single boards between them "I've got to break even somehow, Cassidy, and the surest way is to put our whole bundle on Bunco," Slat tery was saying. "I'm not going up against any more chance bets. I want a sure thing, Cassidy, or nothing at all." "You don't want it any more than I do," growled thing?" "He ought to be against this field." "Ought to be and being so, Slattery, are different things,., replied Cassidy. "Don't forget one fact \Ve are up against one of the trickiest jockeys that ever straddled a mount." it Feiner?'' "Sure!" "You think he may have something up his sleeve?" "That's what I do, Slattery." "Why so?" "Because he was so shy of us this morning," cried Cassidy, with emphasis. "If he had some old rake there, that had no show of winning, he would have been ready enough to have opened his mouth, or to have let me handle the horse "There is something in that, I admit," growled Slattery, grimly. there is," nodded the other. "Felner took just the position this morning that he'd have taken if his horse was a bangup good one." 'So you figu.re from that, Cassidy, that t he hors e is a good one, eh?" "That's just the size of it." "Possibly he is "And if he is, Slattery, he could not have a better man astride him in this race than this same Tony Feiner," added Cassidy. "Felner is as quick, tricky and capable a jockey as ever stood in a paddock." "I admit that, Cassidy." "On the level," added the latter, "Felner and his mount are all I fear in this big race. If Tony Feiner was out of it, and some less clever jockey in his saddle, I would say put our stuff on Bunco and we'll win hands down." "Then you think Starlight is out of our class?'' "We can do Starlight in the stretch," declared Cas sidy, confidently. "His wind won't last to the finish." "But how about the others?" "I have looked them all over, Slattery, and there's not one of them to be feared." "You are sure of it?" "Absolutely. It's just as I say, old man. If Tony


ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. 21 Felner was down and out, we should ha v e a sure thing on this horse of yours." "So you advise doing the job-, do y ou?" "I do," nodded Cassi dy. "It's the only way to make this race a cinch." 1Do you think you can do it without being de tected?" Cassidy indulged in a mingled laugh and sneer. "Do I think I can?" he replied, derisively. "I know I can, Slattery!" "YOU do, eh ?" "That's what I do, William." "It will hurt me, mind you, if the trick is discovered. It would cost me my reputation on all the race tracks." '-'It will not be discovered, Slattery, take my word for it." Slattery sat silent for several minutes, as if weigh-ing some desperate project in his mind. Presently he looked up, however, and said, bluntly l" "Go ahead and do it, Cassidy." "That goes, does it?" demanded Cassidy, with an I evil light beginning to show brighter in his narrow eyes. "Yes, it goes. Do it, and the price we agreed upon is yours. I must win that race, or go broke in the attempt." Cassidy had risen abruptly to his feet. "This settles it, then, Slattery," said he, with grim. earnestness. "You plunge on your own horse. Put every copper you've got on him. You plunge, Slat tery-and leave the rest to me!" His first thought was to see k Mr. Conner, or Felner, and tell them about it. Then he reasoned that they might think him mis taken, and perhaps would ridicule his fears. So he re solved to discover the whole business, if possible, be fore making any report of it. CHAPTER VIII. JACK TO THE RESCUE. That he was losing some of the races, and most of the sport to which he had looked forward, did not matter to Jack. I The success of old Wellington was far more to him than all the races. For more than an hour he followed Slattery and Cassidy around the betting grounds, yet not a sus picious move was made by either of them. Jack began to wonder at this, and then to fear that he had sized up their talk incorrectly, for in less than an hour the big race was to be called. About four o'clock, however, the two men separated, and Jack, in watching Slattery for a momeQt, lost sight of Cassidy in the crowd. Slattery then was studying the odds against his own horse, and was beginning to. place his money. Jack felt in a fever of excitement. Looking at the placards he discovered that there were nine entries for the big race, and that the odds were to one against old Wellington. Bunco was down at five to one, and Starlight at six to one. Both men then started for the stable door, as if about to depart. Jack scarce knew what to do, in not being able to locate Cassidy again. Jack Lightfoot crept quickly away from the rear wall, then darted back of the adjoining stable, around which he cautiously made his way, thus reaching the open place on which the row of stables fronted. The two men were strolling toward the race track. Jack followed them, bent upon knowing what they intended doing, and also bent upon preventing it. He had not overheard quite all they had said in the stable, the voices of the men having been lowered at times, but enough reached his ears to convince him that some kind of a crooked job was about to be undertaken. For a quarter hour more he searched for him among the crowd, yet could find no trace of him. Then Jack made a final resolve. "I'll go back tq the stables and tell Hogan what I overheard," he said to himself. "Maybe I shall find Mr. Conner there, also, and he'll believe what I tell him. One thing I am sure of-that that man, Cassidy, is up to some kind of dirty work. I wish I could have learned just what it is, but I'll report what I over heard, at all events." With this determination, Jack again headed for the stables.


22 ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. One of the last races then was in progress, but he did not delay to watch it. His entire mind was upon old \Vellington and the final race. Among the dense crowd lining the track fence, however, was a man who had come out from the stables to see the race then being run. This man was Tony Feiner. He stood in the midst of a crowd six deep along the outside fence of the track. Nearly behind him stood a man with a heavy, black beard, and with his cap drawn over his brow. Just as the race ended, and the crowd began to break up and surge away from the fence, Feiner felt some-: thing sharp prick his arm near the back of his shoul der. It was a sort of a stinging sensation, for which he could not account, though he glanced sharply about to see if anybody had touched him intentionally. He could detect nothing, however, and wondered what so curious a sensation meant. "Yes, sir. I think there is a job put up to do old Wellington" "Phat's that!" cried Hogan, with a snort of alarm. "What do you mean, Jack?" "I heard two men talking of a scheme to prevent ol

ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. ing the stable, and was now obliged to help the little jockey through the door. Felner's legs were unsteady, his knees shaky, and he was tottering like a man drunk. His eyes, too, had an unnatural dulness and he was very pale. "Good heavens!" cried Mr. Conner. "vV hat has happened to yau, Felner? You haven't been drink ing, have you?' Felner stared at him like one in a daze, yet quickly shook his head. "No, not that, sir," he said, faintly. "I never t oo k a drink in my life. But I've been done up in some way." Then, before Hogan could support him, the little jockey sank helplessly upon a pile of loose hay near the wall, utterly unable to stand on his feet. Mr. Conner needed no further evidence that some thing serious had happened, alsQI that Jack Lightfoot's suspicions were entirely correct, and he at once took the situation in hand. "Close the stable door, Hogan," he said, sharply. "No reports of this must get out at present. We will see what we can do for Felner, and try to bring him around before the race starts." Hogan hastened to obey, quickly bolting the door, while Mr. Conner knelt upon the hay beside the jockey. "How are you feeling now, Tony?" he asked, anx iously Just below it on the back t>f his right arm was a tin) red spot, from which a single drop of blood had oozed, staining his undershirt. "There 'tis!" cried Jack. "Hogan was right, and so am I. That miscreant, Cassidy, has injected a drug of some kind into Fetner, and he will not be fit to ride in the race." "I reckon that's right, sir," muttered Felner. "Goel help him, sir, when I get back on my pins! He has done me up this time, no mis.take, for 'tis dead open and shut that I can't ride. I-I couldn't stick on a horse:" The face of the poor little jockey vouched for his words. He was very pale, and before the last was uttered he flopped over on the hay and went off into a deep sleep. Mr. Conner sprang to his feet, pale with indignation and disappointment. "I'll expose these rascals at once," said he. "Their knavery shall be known all over the track. Slattery's horse shall be barred from this race., He has deprived me of my jockey and--" "And I will provide you with another, Mr. Con ner," said Jack Lightfoot, quickly between the angry dairyman and the closed door. As a matter of fact, Jack now saw before him the opportunity of his life. His face was flushed, his eyes glowing, and the "Badly, sir," said Fetner, faintly. "I can't guess spirit of his quickened determination was reflected m what's the matter with me." his strong, boyish face. "Wull, sir, I can," cried Hogan, white with sup pressed rage. "It's tlrugged, sir, he's been. That's what's the matter wid him. Look at his.eyes. They?re like glass, so they are." "I fear he is right, sir," said Felner, scarce above a whisper. "Some one certainly has done me up for this race." Mr. Conner stopped short and stared at him. "Provide me with another!" he exclaimed. "Whom do you mean?" "Myself, sir," said Jack, eagerly. "Yourself ?" "Yes, sir. You let me ride old Wellington to-day, since Felner is knocked out. I'll ride him for you, sir, "It was Cassidy, then," declared Jack. "This is the and I'll do even more-I'll bring him under the wire very job he meant." "I felt a stinging sensation on my right shoulder while I stood out near the fence," added Fetner, husk ily. "See if anything is wrong there." Assisted by. Jack, Hogan opened the jockey's clothes and examined his shoulder. a good, clean winner." "\Vow! hurroy that's the stuff, Mr. Conner!" cried Hogan, dancing about like an excited Indian. "Lave him ride, sir. It'll not be the first time, and look you, sir! the horse himself seems to see what the trouble is and wants Jack Lightfoot to ride him."


24 ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. In fact, old Wellington was gazing gravely at the group, and now he neighed softly as if to confirm Hpgan's impulsive words. Mr. Conner hesitated for a moment, but the look on Jack Lightfoot's fac e won the day. The dairyman snatched out his watch and glanced at it. "The race is due to start in twenty minutes, Jack," he cried. "Do you feel sure you can ride it?" "Perfectly," cried Jack, eagerly. "Nothing would suit me better. Besides, sir, it will be all in our favor, the fact that Slattery thinks old Wellington is as good as out of the race. I'll beat that horse, Bunco, or I'll break my own neck in the attempt." "Don't say that, Jack," protested Mr. Conner, shak ing his head. "I'd rather withdraw my horse from the race than have any ill befall you." "Don't you fear for me," pleaded Jack. "I'll stick to him like a leech. See, sir, here is Felner's jockey suit on the bench. It will just about fit me, if a bit small. Say but the word, Mr. Conner, and I'll get into it at once. Let me ride old Wellington, sir! I'll make him win! I feel it here-I'll make him win, sir, in spite of the extra weight," cried Jack, beating his breast in his earnestness. Mr. Conner demurred no longer. Clapping Jack on the shoulder he cried, warmly: "If you accomplish this, Jack Lightfoot, you shall have your reward. Into the suit with you, my boy! The race starts in a quarter hour. You shall ride old Wellington, and God h.elp you to bring him in a winner!" In another moment Jack Lightfoot was coming out of his clothes as if for dear life, and Hogan was clapping the saddle upon old Wellington's back. CHAPTER IX. JACK IN THE SADDLE. In less than ten minutes Jack had made the change of garments and stood clad in the jockey's suit. It fitted him-shirt, cap and all-fairly well, and Mr. Conner cried approvingly, in no little excitement: "If you ride as well as you Jack, you'll surely bring us victory." "Lave him alone fur that, sor," cried Hogan, tight ening old Wellington's saddle girth. "He'll ride all right, so he will. Bedad, and old Wellington won't fail him." "That he won't, Hogan," declared Jack, as he slipped his hand through the wrist strap of his whip. "I believe he knows what sort of a job has been put up, and is already resolved to beat the entire field." Though much excited within, Jack outwardly ap-, peared as cool as a melon. He knew that he had undertaken quite a job, yet he felt thoroughly equal to it, and resolved that none should detect any signs of excitement. "I'll keep cool every instant," he repeated to him self. "Let come what may, I'll cool." He knew by experience what steadiness meant at such a time, and the advantage it gave one. The first bell for the big, final race had rung, and several of the horses were already on the track warmmg up. "Lave him go once round, Jack, just to him a bit," whispered Hogan, as Jack prepared to mount. "And don't force him too hard at the first." "I know, Jim," nodded Jack. "I've been here be fore. Now, Jim, give me a hand." "Ay, lad, and good luck to ye!" Jack placed one foot in Hogan's palm, then vaulted into the saddle. "Is she all right?" "Every way, Jim. It couldn't be better." "Kape your head, thin, that's all." "Trust me for that, Jim." Mr. Conner had thrown open the door, and now reached up to shake Jack by the hand as he rode out. There was a suspicious moisture in the dairyman's eyes, but those of Jack Lightfoot were as clear and keen as diamonds. "Be careful, Jack." "I will, sir-and determined!" He spoke firmly, gathering in the reins, and in an other moment was cantering toward the broad gate way giving the racers admission to the track. Felner, the jockey, remained in a deep sleep on the p;le of hay.


I ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. But for "Jack Lightfoot the knavery of that day in one corner of the grand stand, also observed him, would have been successful in the start. and likewise suspected what had happened. In the betting ring Slattery was placing his last Instantly a yell went up from the whole nine, a yell bundle of bank notes on his own horse, and Bunco had that could have been heard a mile away, and with it become the favorite. Cassidy was nowhere to be seen. He had slunk away and left the fair grounds, fear ful that the knavery of which he was guilty might be suspected. Suddenly a great yell went up from the crowd that vVellington was on the track. Sfattery uttered a half-smothered growl of dismay, then hastened to the fence to see for himself, just as Jack rode by. "Now, who the deuce is that jockey?" he snarled in his throat. "It isn't Feiner. Plainly enough, Cassidy did his part of the job all right, but where did they dig up that chap? He's a dead ringer to me." Slattery did not feel quite so sure of himself as be fore, yet he still believed that, with Feiner down and out, no other jockey c:ould bring \i\Tellington to the front. So Slattery let his big bundle of money stand on his own horse. At such a time, in such a crowd, amid the tremen dous excitement that attends a great running race, the details of the scene can only be hinted at. The vast grand stand was black with people, and the track fence lined six deep for a hundred yards each way. The eyes of five thousand people were riveted upon the half score of horses then warming up on the track. In less than five minutes the race to be run, and the suspense seemed almost intolerable. As Jack rode by the grand stand, letting his mount go at an easy canter, Nellie Conner caught sight of him and cried excitedly to her compani;n : "Look, look, Kate! There's old Wellington! But who is that on. his back?" She did not recognize Jack in his natty jockey suit. "Why, it's Jack Lightfoot," cried Kate Strawn, after a moment. "Something has hal'pened to the other jockey." At the same moment the Cranford boy_s,_ who were was mingled Jack's name. "Lightfoot! Lightfoot! Hurrah for Jack Light foot!" These shouts were caught up by the crowd, also, and for a moment it seemed as if a lunatic asylum had been turned loose. Slattery heard the name and the noise, and he began to feel

ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. He knew that the crucial moment was at hand, and he bent and caressed old Wellington's neck, saying softly: "Now, old boy, do your prettiest! We can beat them all, if you will-and I know you will I Good old Wellington!'.' The big bay whinnied and shook his head vigorously, qu i te as if he understood perfectly well what was wanted of him. Jack felt equally sure that he did. At that moment nearly the last before the great race a silence that was strangely ominous, a h.ush like that of a death chamber, fell upon the entire crowd. This lasted only a few seconds, yet they seemed like as many hours. Then, just as Jack reached his position in the start ing line, there came the c rack of a pistol from the judges' stand. It was followed by a sound like the thunder of a thousand cannons. "They're off! They're off!" It swelled louder and louder, mingled with shrieks and screams of that could not be re strained. "Sit down! Down in front!" yelled hundreds in the grand stand "Bunco r Bunco leads! The favorite's ahead!" The last was the wild, irrepressible cries of many who thought they knew the relative value of the racers, or had their money on the favorite. The start was a good one, and the race was on. At first the line of horses had stretched from fence to fence, but at the moment of the start they bunched quickly, closing like a fan, and swept by the grand stand in seeming confusion. Then Bunco leaped to the front, with Starlight, a lank sorrel mare under a jockey in green, close upon his flank. Hard behind came several of the others, while in the plunging ruck nearly at the rear, with his head lowered and his eyes gleaming, trailed old Wellington, with J a ck Lig htfoot crouching low on his back. The Cranford boys felt their hearts sink when they saw his position, but Jack knew what he was doing from the very start, and what reserve power Welling ton had for a lightning finish. Yet a groan broke from his friends when they saw him behind the bunch of plunging racers. "He'll lase! He'll lose, sure!" moaned Tom Light-fo?t, wringing his hands, "Old Wellington's behind t" "Jack's out of it-out of it from the start!" "Oh, dear! oh, dear! we're going to lose!" cried Nellie Conner, almost in tears despite her excitement. These were some of the cries that might have been heard at th a t moment, almost before the race was fairly under way. Then there came one of those sights that can be witnessed only on a race track. Jack Lightfoot had spoken only a single word to old Wellington. The big bay responded in an instant. He came like a cannon ball through the ruck just ahead of him, while a look of confidence and triumph showed quickly on Jack's white, set face. In another moment the gap of daylight between him and Starlight was turned to darkness, and close upon the flank of Bunco, the powerful roan : old Welling t on swept like a whirlwind suddenly let loose. Amid yells and cheers that fairly shook the heavens, thus they tore past the long grand stan,d, with Bunco and Wellington nearly neck and neck, and both of them, along with Starlight, battling fiercely for the pole. A noise like that of Niagara was left behind them. The cries that rent the air could not be imagined "Bunco is behind!" "The favorite is passed!" "Wellington is winning !" "The big leads the field !" "Hurrah for Lightfoot! Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" So the wild cries arose amid the tumult of shouts and cheers on every side. Jack Lightfoot heard none of it, however. His entire attention was directed upon the jockeys and horses around him. As the leaders swung into the quarter curve, Jack


ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. drew his horse down a trifle and let Bunco retain his lead. This seemed for a to annoy old Wellington, who still fought hard for the front. "Ste'1dy Steady; old boy!" muttered Jack, nearly down to the horse's neck. "There'll be time enough for that!" Old Wellington let up a little, quite as if he knew that he was being reserved for the finish. B-unco drew a length ahead. Then Starlight closed up and tried to pass the bay. Jack prevented this, however, and forced the sorrel off from the pole. Yet not for a moment did his glowing, determined eyes leave the horse just in advance of him, and the figure of the little jockey on the animal's back. Old Wellington was pounding the track like a machine of cast iron, and Jack felt dead sure of him. So they tore around.the curve of the great race track and approached the half. Thousands of eyes followed their every move, their every change of position. Not for an instant did the frightful noise and the wild cries of the frenzied spectators cease. "Bunco has a clean lead!" "Wellington's second! He's sure for place!" "Starlight is gaining! Starlight is gaining!" "Crowd him, Jack! Crowd him!" shrieked the Cranford boys, quite as if their advice could have been heard. One might as well have whispered in the din of a boiler factory. So they reached and passed the half, in the positions mentioned, and with the ruck trailing close behind. Near the track fence Mr. Conner and Jim Hogan stood watching the race, and both were in a fever ?f excitement. The dairyman was very pale, but Hogan's face was as red as his fiery hair. "Bedad, he's ridin' like a profissional," he cried, at his employer's elbow. "Sure, Felner's himself couldn't have done better, so he couldn t." "He is doing splendidly, Jim," nodded Mr. Conner. he is, sor Look now, how's he's houlding him back." "So he is! so he is! That's right, too." "Sure it's right! Ain't it jest phat I told him, sor ?'' "Yes, Jam es." "You lave Jack alone," cried Hogan, who could not have kept still for his life. "You wait till they're .after coming into the stretch, and thin you'll see the stuff that's in the horse, and in the laddie buck, too." "God grant it, James!" said Mr. Conner, fervently. "Sure, you wait and see!" And all the while the deafening noise on every side continued. In another moment the string of horses had passed the half and were making for the upper turn of the big track. Bunco still had a clean lead, with a length of day light between him and old Wellington. Close on the latter's flank came Starlight, with the jockey plying the whip with all 4,is might. Yet Jack Lightfoot held the sorrel a little to the rear and off the pole. So they covered another furlong. In the one before the stretch was reached, however, there came a closing up of the entire field. Bunco swerved a little, and Wellington leaped even with his flank. $tarlight and the ruck behind took the advantage also, and they came around the curve in a plunging bunch In another moment the entire field had swurig into the home stretch. Then Jack Lightfoot made ready to do the work of the day. He let loose a wrap of the reins about his hands, and settled himself lower in his saddle. His eyes were upon the rival jockey, and upon the powerful roan just ahead. Despite the killing pace, Bunco was still strong, and moving like a machine. Jack eased a little on the reins, and gave his mount his head for a moment only


ALL-SPORTS LIBR 1\RY. He wished to see how the horse was going to respond. Old Wellii;igton his head for an instant, then thrust it forward and broke ground like a demon. lined the way, old \Vellington to Lht. "'ront and swept under the wire a good, clean winner. Precisely as Jack had promised. It is beyond the power of language to describe the "Steady! steady!" cried Jack, softly. "Not yet-sce nes that followed. not quite yet!" J'hen the wild uproar from the crowded grand stand fell upon his ears. He heard it a s one hears in a dream. Not for an instant, howe v er, did he turn his head or lose his strained interest in the work engaging him. In another moment the whole field 'vas in the stretch, and straight away for the last despera t e fight to the finish line, just a furlong off. Bunco again had gained a little and was leading the bunch by a yard. The face of the jockey on his back wore a 1 smile of confident triumph. Now Jack Lightfoot loosened the last wrap of the reins from around his wri&ts. Then he b owe

A CHAT WITH YOU Under this general head we purpose each week to sit around the camp fire and have a heart-to-heart talk with those of our young who care to gather there, answering such let_ters as may reach us asking for information with regard to vanous healthy sports, both indoor and o ut. We shoul_d also be glad to hear what you think of the leading characters m your favor:-1te publication. Besides answering the various letters and g1vmg advice on athletics we are publishing from week to week a short essay upon some timely topic, such "How to pitch '!drop ball,'' and other things that most boys desire to know, told 111 a m anner that may be easily understood. It is the editor's desire to make this department one that will be eagerly read from week to week by every admirer of the J;:1tk Lightfoot stories, and prove to be of valuable assistance in building up manly, healthy Sons of America. All letters received will be answered immediately, but may not appear in .print under five owing to the fact that the publication must go to press far 111 advance o f the date of issue. Those who favor us with correspondence will please bear this in mind, and exercise a little patience. PLAYING SHORTSTOP. This position has very properly been called "key stone of the infield, and is perhaps the most difficult of all to properly fill. Taken as a whole, there are more pla ys centering around shortstop thari else, an_d a most active player is needed to fill the position. It 1s nece ssary that he be a quick and accurate throw<;r, speedy at pickin g up and groui:d to the whistling ball as 1t comes at him with whiskers on it be keen of wit so that he may seldom get rattled, no what is taking place around him; know just how to block off runners from second, and be a speedy run n e r for frequently he is expected to dash out in short c enter and capture a "pop" fly that might be good for a base with a slow fielder. These and many more char acteristics mark the really good shortstop, so that it is readily seen that he has no easy position to fill if he would win the praise of the populace. The man who can stop a fast grounder, and shoot the ball to first accurately without taking the time. to straighten up is all right, and such work always brmgs down the house. Whoever covers this po s ition should be able to make good use of either -hand in stopping fierce hits; and following this snappy throwing makes a gilt-edged player. In playmg for a double he must scoop up the ball, and send it to second the same motion, since it has to be then da s hed to first m order to head off the batter. Constant practice is the best help a shortstop can h ave. Besides all this, he should be well up in the signals pass. ing between the pitcher and since means mu.ch to him whether a curve or a straight ball is to be deliv ered; for if hit by the batter it is likely. that the will probably be sent straight to short or third base; while, on the other hand, a certain curve struck by a ri ght hand batter will be apt to dance around to the ri ght of the second cushion. Thus, it is sensible for the man;it short to study the various effects of batti n g on the part of all styles of hitters on the various kinds of curves and drops, and govern himself accordingly. A fast grounder, if successfully stopped, allows him an opportunity to steady himself before making the throw to first, which is always a good thing. With a _slow grounder, he must speed the ball across like greased light ning; and yet it is wise to always allow for a second t? ge t a line on the man at first-better that the ball reacn there just a fraction behind the runner, than by reason of too much haste it skim over the head of first baseman and allow the runner to reach second or third by the error. The pitcher, second baseman and shortstop should have a certajn code of signals. so that they may work to gether without friction. And it is also necessary that some understanding should be had with the catcher, who, most likely, when trying to catch a man running !O sec ond, will shoo t the ball squarely over the bag, relymg on shortstop getting there in time to snatch it and touch his man. As a last word we can only say, get the ball quickly, and then send it to where it is needed with lightning speed and accuracy. I have read all the numbers of the "ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY from number one to number eleven, which is the latest number in print this date. I think it is aJ:iout the 1?est weekly printed. It tells of what every Amencan boy bkes to read about, the manly, American sports. Now, old Lafe Lampton is the "real stuff," when he has an apple to munch upon He mtide "Old Wagon Tongue" spot the ball just right in that game with Mildale. Lafe, we love you for that. Good old, steady Tom Lightfoot, the bookworm is something like me, for I dearly love to read. But I like athletics as well as to read about them. "Nat" Kimball is 0. K., but he had better study up on jiu-jitsu before he tackles Bob Brewster again. Hurrah for Polly! She knows when to yell for Cran ford and Jack Lightfoot. "Jube, by gra".y I you mustn't run with that "gang!" And now, Jack Lightfoot, last but not l eas t is the very boy we like to read about, because he has his faults, the same as any other boy. I hope to have a visit each week from Jack and his friends for many weeks. I want to thank Mr. Stevens for putting such a good weekly before us for such a small sum. Just think-thirty-two pages for five cents I would be glad to hear from any reader of this weekly. I will now close, hoping to see this in print so oth_ers will follow my example and help build up an mterestmg column of chat. Wishing success to Mr. Stevens and the publishers, J. L. BYRUM. Sherman Heights, Tenn. Your l ette r has the right ring to it, and there can be no doubt that you are a close observer of all that takes place in the weekly issue of our ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. We hope to continue to merit your good opinion, and that you will do all in your power to assist us by spreading the gospel among your young friends, so that they too, may enjoy the regular visits of J.ack Lightfoot and his comrades true.


ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. I want to let you know just what I think of ALL SPORTs; and after all, my opinion can be put in one word -bully! That's what it is, the best printed. I'm so much taken up with sports myself that it tickles me to think of having a paper devoted to such things entirely. I hope you never make any ck.nge about this, because the paper would soon stop being interesting to me if the stories were just of the ordinary kind. I find much to copy after in Jack and Tom Lightfoot, and I give you my word for it, the reading of these interesting stories has done me worlds of good. A boy is apt to try and model his life after somebody or other, and it's well that he picks out the right kind of a pattern. I was a good deal like Jack in feeling that I couldn't accomplish things; but I tried his plan of putting my teeth together and saying that I would do it, and you'd be astonished to know how many times I won out. I owe you and Mr. Stevens much for putting me on the right track, and I'm gving to read ALL-SPORTS even after I grow up, if it is printed then. DONALD G. McCUNE. New York City. You echo our own sentiments in saying that boys have a natural love for all healthy and vigorous sports. They c er tainly have a prominent model to go by now, with President Roosevelt taking occasional plunges into the wilderness in search of big g

SEA. This library represents an entirely new idea. It is totally different from any other now published. The stories detail ,the adventures of three plucky lads who set out to capture the notorious Captain Kidd. Every real boy 1 has longed to read more about the doings of this bold marauder of the seas and the opportunity is now given them. The storie:; are of generous length and without equals in thrilling adventure and interest. The best sea stories ever written. I-Capt. Kidd's Sea Swoop; or, Carried Off by Pirates. 2-Capt. Kidd's Buried Treasure; or, Adven tures of Three Boys the Bu _ccaneers. 15-Capt. Kidd's Long Chase; or, Thad and Hi;S Chums in the Tropics. 16-Set Adrift by Pirates; or, Thad's Adven tures in the Saragossa Sea. ) 3-The Silver Cutlass ; or, Thad and His Ghums Lost in the Swamp. 17-To Sink or Swim; or, Thad and His Friends On Blue Water. 18---.Capt. Kidd's Drag-Net; or, How Young Thad Hoodwinked the Buccaneers. 19-The Phantom Pirate; or, Thad ancf His Chums on the Haunted Ship. \ 4-Defying the Sea Wolf; or, Thad at Bay in the Powder Magazine. 5-The Jolly Red Raven; or, Capt. Kidd's Dar\ ing Raid on Old0New York. 6-The Corsair Captain; or,. Thad and His \ Chums Afloat. 7-The Death's Head Rovers; or, How Thad Outwitted the Coast Freebooters. 8-Walking the Plank; or, The Last Cruise of the Flying-Scud. i 9-Capt. Kidd's Revenge; or, Thad Among the Tigers of the Sea. Io-The Chest of Doubloons; or, How Three Boys Defied the Buccaneers. n-The Rival Pirates; or, Thad and His Chums in Irons. I2-Capt. Kidd's Stratagem; or, Simple Simon Takes Soundings. 13-The Red Raven's Prize; or, How Young Thad Sailed a Pirate Barque. ,.;. 14-Nailed to the Mast; or, The Last of tapt. Kidd's "Hole in the Wall." 20-The Winged Witch; or, How Three Boys Saved the Treasure Galleon. 21-Capt. Kidd in New Orleans; or, The Pirate Scourge of the Rigolets. 22-Tiger of the Sea; or, The Three Castaways of the Gulf. 23-The Pirates of The Keys; or, Our Boys Afloat on the Spanish Main. 24-Capt. Kidd at Bay ; or, Marooned On a Sand-Spit. 25-The Silver Barque; or, Capt. Kidd's Last Prize. 26-Among the Buccaneers ; or, Thad and His Chums in Desperate Straits. 27-The Red Scourge; or How Morgan, the Buccaneer, Stormed the Citadel. 28--The Chase of the Slaver; or, Thad Among the Indigo Planters. 29-Morgan's Coast Raiders; or, Thad at the Sacking of Maracaibo. FIV"E : : : For Sale by all Newsdealers, or sent postpllld, upon receipt of price by publlsbers : WINNER LIBRARY CO., 165 West Fifteenth St., NEW YORK


COME BOYS, COME. CET THE ALL-SPORTS .LIB-RARY. 66 Teach the American boy how to become an athlete and so lay the foundation of a constitution greateP than that of the United States.1111 -Wise Sayings from Tip Top. YOU like fon, adventure and mystery, don't you? Well, you can find them all in the pages of the ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. As the name implies, the ALLSPORTS LIBRARY is devoted to the sports that all young people delight in. It has bright, handsome, colored covers, and each story is of generous length. You are looking for a big five cents worth of good reading and you can get it here. Ask your newsdealer for any of the titles listed below. He has them in stock. Be sure to get ALL-SPORTS LIBRARY. Like other good things, it has its imitations. 1-J ack Lightfoot's Challenge; or, The Win ning of the Wager. 2-Jack Lightfoot's Hockey Team; or, The Rival Athletes of Old Cranford. 3-J ack Lightfoot's Great Play; or, Surprising the Academy Boys. 4-Jack Lightfoot's Athletic Tournament; or, Breaking the Record Quarter Mile Dash. 5-Jack Lightfoot in the Woods; or, Taking the Hermit Trout of Simms' Hole. Lightfoot's Trump Curve; or, The Wizard Pitcher of the Four-Town League. 7-Jack Lightfoot's Crack Nine; or, How Old "Wagon Tongue" Won the Game. 8-J ack Lightfoot's Winning Oar; or, A Hot Race for the Cup. 9Jack Lightfoot, The Young Naturalist; or, The Mystery of Thunder Mountain. 10-Jack Li ghtfoo t's Team-Work; or, Pulling a Game Out of the Fire. II-Jack Lightfoot's Home Run; or, A Glorious Hit in the Right Place. 12-J ack Lightfoot, Pacemaker; or, What Hap pened on a Century Run. I 3-Jack Lightfoot' s Lucky Puncture ; or, A Young Athlete Among the Hoboes. 14-Jack Lightfoot, the Magician; or, Quelling a Mutiny in the Nine. 15-Jack Lightfoot's Lightning Battery; or, Kid naping a Star Pitcher. Jack Lightfoot's Strategy; or, Hare-and Hounds Over Cranford Hills. 17-Jack Lightfoot in the Saddle; or, A Jockey for Just One Day. 18-Jack Lightfoot's Dilemma; or, A Traitor on the Diamond. 19-J ack Lightfoot's Cyclone Finish; or, How Victory Was Snatched From Defeat. 20Jack Lightfoot in Camp ; or, Young Athletes at Play in the Wilderness. 21-Jack Lightfoot's Disappearance; or, The '' Turning-up of an Old Enemy. 22-Jack Lightfoot's "Stone Wall" Infield; or, Making a Reputation in the League. FI"VE : For Sale by all Newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, upon receipt of price by publishers WINNER LIBRARY CO., NEWYORK


GET THE -SPORTS LIBRARY ... "Teac h the Ame rican boy how to b ecome an athle te and lay the foundation of a constz'tutzon greate r than that of the Unted States." You like fun, a d vent u re, and mystery d on't you? Well, you ca n find them all i n the pag e s Wise sayings from Tzp Top I o f the stori e s in this library. As the name impli es, the ALL -SPORTS LIBRARY is devo ted to the sports a ll y o ung people delight in It has b right handsome c o l ored c overs, and each story is of genero u s length. You are looking for a big five cents worth of go o d reading and yo u can get it I her e Ask your news dealer for any of the ti t le s li sted below H e has them in s tock. 7. 8. 9. lO. l 1. l2. l3. l4. l5. l6. PRICE, FIVE CENTS Latest Titles Jack Lightfoot's Crack Nine;. or, How Old Wagon Tongue Won the Game Jack s Winning Oar; or, A Hot Race for the Cup Jack Lightfoot, the Young Naturalist; or, The Mystery of Thunder Mountain Jack Lightfoot's Team Work; or, Pulling a Game Out of the Fire Jack Lightfoot's Home Run; or, A Glorious Hit in the Right Place Jack Lightfoot, Pacemaker; or, What Happened on a Century Run Jack Lightfoot' s Lucky Puncture; or, A Young Athlete Among the Hoboes Jack Lightfoot, the Magician; or, Quelling a Mutiny in the Nine Jack Lightfoot' s Lightning Battery; or, Kidnapping a Star Pitcher Jack Lightfoot's Strategy; or, Hare-and-Hounds Over Cranford Hills


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