The Dark Horse
There lived in Tennessee an old chap named Sam Flynn, who traded in horses and generally contrived to own a speedy nag or two, which he used for racing purposes whenever he could pick up a “soft match” during his travels. The best of his flyers was a coal-black stallion named Dusky Pete, who was almost a thoroughbred, and able to go in the best of company. Flynn was accustomed to saddle Pete when approaching a town and ride him into it to give the impression that the animal was merely a “likely hoss,” and not a flyer. One day he came to a town where a country race-meeting was being held and he entered Pete among the contestants. The people of the town, not knowing anything of his antecedents, and not being overimpressed by his appearance, backed two or three local favorites heavily against him. Flynn moved among the crowd and took all the bets offered against his nag. Just as the “flyers” were being saddled for the race old Judge McMinamee, who was the turf oracle of that part of the State, arrived on the course, and was made one of the judges. As he took his place on the stand he was told how the betting ran, and of the folly of the owner of the strange entry in backing his “plug” so heavily. Running his eye over the track, the judge instantly recognized Pete, and he said, “Gentlemen, there’s a dark horse in this race that will make some of you sick before supper.” The judge was right. Pete “the dark horse,” lay back until the three-quarter pole was reached, when he went to the front with a rush and won the purse and Flynn’s bets with the greatest ease.