of the men scheduled to ride in my heat had allowed their names to be scratched, or withdrawn, incidentally, which was a trick to make my heat the slowest in order that the winners of the other two heats and the second in the fastest heat might be eligible for the final. Besides, with only six starters in my heat, including myself, and no pacemakers, they would have a much better chance to deal with me.
The bunch were slow getting away from the starting line. Then, as prearranged, one of the riders came from the rear with a wild rush, riding as if he were sprinting the last lap instead of the first. As no one else offered to go after him I volunteered and after chasing him a full lap I then swung out so as to allow the next man to go out and do his bit. He refused as did the rest of them, so I went out strong this time and brought him back after chasing him two laps and a half, with the rest of the field hanging on to me.
By this time I was pretty well winded, when lo! another rider repeated the same trick, shooting out from the rear after having been passed by the other riders up to that moment. Again the other men refused to alternate with me in an effort to bring him back. If I failed to go after him he would, undoubtedly, have won the heat, shutting me out entirely—which was their scheme to keep me from qualifying. The crowd was quick to sense the tactics of the other riders and registered their disapproval of them by hissing and hooting them every time they passed the stand. In the meantime the rider out front was gaining all the time and I was just about worn out because of the unsportsmanlike tactics adopted by the other riders.
Riding the entire race single-handed I was able to give this lone rider the battle of his life before he won. However, I rode most of the last lap on my nerve as I was almost completely exhausted by their foul methods used against me. They had worked me into the worst pocket that had ever balked the efforts of a rider and the storm of hisses that greeted the winner indicated the big crowd on hand for the races was fully aware of the underhanded methods to bring about my defeat.
Nat Butler won the first heat in the one-mile professional handicap race and his brother Tom was the victor in the second. I was scratch man in my heat but the best I could do, in the event of the unfair tactics adopted by the riders against me, was to finish second being thereby eliminated from the finals.
This race was practically a repetition of the heat I figured in in the five-mile championship event. In both races the other riders refused to do their share of pacing which allowed the high handicap man to win. Come what might, I decided not to do all the donkey work in this race. The crowded stands again showed their disapproval of the tactics adopted by my competitors but to no avail.
