The streets were lined with people and it was all
the enormous force of guards could do to drive them out of danger to
the sidewalks. The balconies and windows of the houses were also
crowded. The start was made near the upper end of the city at the
Place del Popolo, where anxious grooms held the struggling horses;
until, at the firing of a cannon, the bridles were slipped and the
frightened animals dashed madly down the street, with those wicked
steel balls swinging in the air and cruelly beating their sides,
spurring them to a terrific pace. Each horse bore a number and as
immense sums of money are wagered, cannons were placed at intervals
along the route which were fired a number of times to correspond with
the number borne by the horse in the lead, thus indicating to the
betters the number of the horse in front at the different stations.
Perfect pandemonium reigned during this wild dash down the Corso. Men
and women yelled as though they were mad, and the shrill voices of
children were also heard above the roaring of the cannon.
At the end of the Corso a net was dropped across the street, into which
the frenzied steeds plunged and were flung to the ground, a tangled and
bleeding mass of noble horse-flesh. Some were killed outright and others
were so maimed that they had to be dispatched to put them out of
misery.
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