cing at his watch, still
smiled. That watch he pulled out when the Knight of the Cumberland
started and he smiled still when he heard the black horse's swift,
rhythmic beat and he looked up only when that knight, shouting to his
horse, moved his lance up and down before coming to the last ring and,
with a dare-devil yell, swept it from the wire.

"Tied--tied!" was the shout; "they've got to try it again! they've got
to try it again!"

The Hon. Sam rose, with his watch in one hand and stilling the tumult
with the other. Dead silence came at once.

"I fear me," he said, "that the good knight, the Discarded, has failed
to make the course in the time required by the laws of the tournament."
Bedlam broke loose again and the Hon. Sam waited, still gesturing for
silence.

"Summon the time-keeper!" he said.

The time-keeper appeared from the middle of the field and nodded.

"Eight seconds!" "The Knight of the Cumberland wins," said the Hon. Sam.

The little sister, unconscious of her own sad face, nudged me to look at
the Blight--there were tears in her eyes.

Before the grandstand the knights slowly drew up again. Marston's horse
was so lame and tired that he dismounted and let a darky boy lead him
under the shade of the trees. But he stood on foot among the other
knights, his arms folded, worn out and vanquished, but taking his bitter
medicine like a man. I thought the Blight's eyes looked pityingly upon
him.

The Hon. Sam arose with a crown of laurel leaves in his hand:

"You have fairly and gallantly won, Sir Knight of the Cumberland, and
it is now your right to claim and receive from the hands of the Queen
of Love and Beauty the chaplet of honor which your skill has justly
deserved. Advance, Sir Knight of the Cumberland, and dismount!"

The Knight of the Cumberland made no move nor sound.

"Get off yo' hoss, son," said the Hon. Sam kindly, "and get down on yo'
knees at the feet of them steps. This fair young Queen is a-goin' to put
this chaplet on your shinin' brow. That horse'll stand."

The Knight of the Cumberland, after a moment's hesitation, threw his leg
over the saddle and came to the steps with a slouching gait and looking
about him right and left. The Blight, blushing prettily, took the
chaplet and went down the steps to meet him.

"Unmask!" I shouted.

"Yes, son," said the Hon. Sam, "take that rag off."

Then Mollie's voice, clear and loud, startled the crowd. "You better
not, Dave Branham,