Grand National

Forty-two horses came out of the paddock gate and moved up the midway to the barrier. Some walked quietly and lightly, with the jockeys sitting up high to save their backs even in this short walk; others skittered sideways, excited by the sight of other horses, by the crowd (250,000) that showed like a dark ocean along the fences, washing up into a wave in the grandstand. It had been raining in the morning, but the rain had stopped; the sky was full of shifting clouds through which the sunlight shone in patches. Three times the horses, picked English, French, American jumpers, lined up and broke before the flag sent them away for the Grand National, the world's most famed steeplechase, run annually since 1839, near Liverpool, England.

As soon as they began to run, the crowd lost sight of them. The field was covered with mist through which, except in front of the stand, nothing could be seen very clearly. In the boxes sat a few notables, not many, for the Grand National is not a smart race but just a dangerous and famous one. Sir Thomas Royden of the Cunard line was there. He had ordered the liner Scythia into dock at Liverpool so that people who wanted to see the race could sleep on board. The King of Afghanistan had spent the night as his guest and was now sitting with Queen Thuraya in the Earl of Derby's box. It was a big week for him and he didn't want to miss anything. Howard Bruce of Maryland, owner of Billy Barton, sat in Sir Thomas Royden's box. All stood with their coat collars turned up, staring into the mist in which could be heard the sound of hoofs.

There are 30 obstacles in the Grand National--streams, fences, dry ditches, wet ditches, walls, hurdles, ditches and fences combined. Only one horse fell at the first jump. At the fourth jump Sprig turned a somersault and two other horses fell on him. The field went on.

Beecher's Brook was the next obstacle, a wide stream with a hidden takeoff. Coyote fell here. Freddy Guest's Koko fell into the ditch head first and Amber-wave, one of the favorites, fell after him. The rest were all closely bunched with Billy Barton, Darracq and Bright's Boy out in front. The eighth jump is the Canal Turn, a thorn fence five feet nine inches high with a six-foot ditch on the take-off side and an 18-inch guard rail in front of the ditch. Eighteen horses fell as if a machine gun had been playing on the top of the fence. Horses without riders galloped off in the mist following Ace II, now eight lengths ahead of the field, who took Valentine's Brook like an eagle soaring but fell at the next fence. Nobody in the stands could see now who was leading. They waited in silence, listening to the hoofs. Then the horses came into the head of the stretch and the people could see three horses rising to the last jump. The horse in the middle, which had no rider, interfered with the one on the inside and made him stumble. The jockey fell off, got on again, and rode after the other horse which, staggering and covered with mud and sweat, Tipperary Tim, 100 to 1 shot, crossed under the wire a winner. Billy Barton, the horse that had stumbled, with Tom Cullinan up, was second at 33 to 1. There was no third. "Where did that fine horse stumble?" said the King of Afghanistan to the Countess Dejumilhac. "My God, I don't know," said the Countess Dejumilhac, "I was saying the Lord's Prayer with my back to the track. I guess she fell about the fifth time I got to 'forgive us our trespasses.' "

As Tipperary Tim was being led to the paddock, English folk crowded to pat him. They liked the feel of the hot lather on his flanks. They were glad that he had licked the U. S. invader, Billy Barton. Tipperary Tim was a dull horse, a plodder; but he had a nice name that would go down with powerful Poethlyn who won the Grand National in 1918 and 1919 and with nimble Jack Horner, U. S. horse who won in 1926. Hardly anybody noticed two other horses being led to the paddock. They were not feeling well. One of them had a stream of blood running out of his mouth.