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The proceedings began with the Local Stakes, won by Rob Saunderson's veteran, Shep. There followed the Open Juveniles, carried off by Ned Hoppin's young dog. It was late in the afternoon when, at length, the great event of the meeting was reached. In the enclosure behind the Dalesman's Daughter the clamor of the crowd increased tenfold, and the yells of the bookmakers were redoubled.
One by one the others rose and trailed out after him: big blue Rasper, Londesley's Lassie, Ned Hoppin's young dog; Grip and Grapple, the publican's bull-terriers; Jim Mason's Gyp, foolish and flirting even now; others there were; and last of all, waddling heavily in the rear, that scarred Amazon, the Venus. Out of the house they pattered, silent and unseen, with murder in their hearts.
While Grapple, the death to avenge, hung tighter. In a scarlet, soaking patch of the ground lay Big Bell's lurcher, doubled up in a dreadful ball. And Hoppin's young dog, who three hours before had been the children's tender playmate, now fiendish to look on, dragged after the huddle up the hill. Back the mob rolled on her.
Stephens did not make a corresponding improvement in the product of the Minneapolis Mill. That he did not do this is amply proved by the fact of Mr. Pillsbury giving me 5,000 dols. to introduce improvements into his mills, when, supposing Mr. Hoppin's statement to be correct, he might have had the same alterations carried out under Mr. Stephens' direction at a mere nominal cost.