12 Sports Aces, May 1943 — page 72: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

70 12 SPORTS ACES 18 Breer Ber Orr Our Ber Ge Ber Bee Pre Pes Ber Bee Ber Bee BecM ee Dor Orn 911 Oe1 Dee Drees eee @erer Ber hes Dee De! Dee Os ris Gre Ger red Pie Geo Bor Ger Ger de Ore Pree sr SerGe Bee GeePoeGir Hrs and Gallant Wise waking up to bid. Jackie didn’t have to hold Bad Boy now. Bad Boy was fading. His head was cocked and his eyes were wild. He’d splurged all he had. Rosab cut ahead, showed Bad Boy Wis streaking tail. HUNDER drummed in Jackie’s brain. He had to win. But who could beat a dog like Rosab today? Bad Boy’s agony quivered between Jackie’s legs. The wire was ahead, but Bad Boy had no life. Could he do another furlong? Jackie grasped for the lash. But his fingers stopped short of his boot. He felt Bad Boy’s quivering surge. He felt the hollow groan of straining breath rattling from him, as Bad Boy found some last strength. Rosab was still on top. It was Rosab leveling for the wire. The thunder of other horses overtaking Bad Boy roared fm Jackie’s splitting brain. Bad Boy! Bad Boy! This one for Tip! Jackie said that prayer, and he knew the prayer was inside the game red Boy’s heart, too. Bad Boy went after Rosab like a sweat- streaked red phantem. He didn’t see the wire. He didn’t see anything, know any- thing; all that was in him was fight. It seemed he must run and run forever, and then the track speaker boomed. “The winner. It’s Bad Boy by half a keneth! Resab by three. And Fleetaway.” Jackie swayed, hollow with weakness, @gizzy, as he turned back to the judges’ stand. Tip Murray had a fighter. A wonder horse. He’d won himself some money. The money he needed... . Then Jackie saw Tip. The actor’s ro- _ famd face was yellow-pale and his lips were tight and tense with trouble as he gnowded up. ” he breathed quickly. “The Pinks, They found the boy tied up in the stable! Don’t say—” ~ Jackie caught his breath. Tip couldn’ stand up for him this time. He’d not le him. “Don’t say a word, Jackie,” Tip went on. “I told the Pinks it was my order that you sub. I said the other jock musé@ have given you an argument and you had to put him away.” There was no more time for talking then. Jackie took his honors at the judges” stand numbly. He found Tip as soon as he could afterwards. “Mr. Murray,” he said, taking Tip aside from a woman who was holding Tip’s arm. “I’m pulling out. I guess you know what I’ve done, and maybe why I’ve done it. Anyway, I don’t want to put you on a spot any more. I don’t want you te have to go telling stories for me—lies.” Tip Murray straightened. His blue eyes were glowing. “Oh, no,” he said. “Bad Boy is a great fighting horse. You showed me that, Jackie.” Tip’s hand came dowm in a tight squeeze on Jackie’s shoulder. “The guy’s half yours now. I want you te ride him in the Santa Rey—and others. And I didn’t lie when I told the Pinks I wanted you to ride. My wife was with me when I got your phone call. So I guessed what you were up to; and I did want you to race then, Jackie. For I was sorry for what I’d said to you at the fire. And I knew I wanted you to ride the Boy be- eause I knew you were two of a kind. A little wild maybe. But plenty of heart!” And suddenly Jackie wondered how, when things were so black, they could all become so bright almost in a twinkling. He tried to think of one thing that was wrong now, but he couldn’t. And, sudden- ly, he found himself grinning, but almost wanting to cry. “Mr. Murray!” Jackie choked, and Tip reached out and grasped his arm. comicbook (Eo) f