he denizens of Colbury and the rosy rural faces of the
country people of Kildeer County; and within the charmed arena the
competitors for the blue ribbon and the saddle and bridle to be
awarded to the best rider were just now entering, ready mounted, from
a door beneath the tiers of seats, and were slowly making the tour of
the circle around the judges' stand. One by one they came, with a
certain nonchalant pride of demeanor, conscious of an effort to
display themselves and their horses to the greatest advantage, and yet
a little ashamed of the consciousness. For the most part they were
young men, prosperous looking, and clad according to the requirements
of fashion which prevailed in this little town. Shut in though it was
from the pomps and vanities of the world by the encircling chains of
blue ranges and the bending sky which rested upon their summits, the
frivolity of the mode, though somewhat belated, found its way and
ruled with imperative rigor. Good riders they were undoubtedly,
accustomed to the saddle almost from infancy, and well mounted. A
certain air of gallantry, always characteristic of an athletic
horseman, commended these equestrian figures to the eye as they slowly
circled about. Still they came--eight--nine--ten--the eleventh, the
long, lank frame of Jenkins Hollis mounted on Squire Goodlet's "John
Barleycorn."

The horsemen received this ungainly addition to their party with
polite composure, and the genteel element of the spectators remained
silent too from the force of good breeding and good feeling; but the
"roughs," always critically a-loose in a crowd, shouted and screamed
with derisive hilarity. What they were laughing at Jenks Hollis never
knew. Grave and stolid, but as complacent as the best, he too made the
usual circuit with his ill-fitting jeans suit, his slouching old wool
hat, and his long, gaunt figure. But he sat the spirited "John
Barleycorn" as if he were a part of the steed, and held up his head
with unwonted dignity, inspired perhaps by the stately attitudes of
the horse, which were the result of no training nor compelling reins,
but the instinct transmitted through a long line of high-headed
ancestry. Of a fine old family was "John Barleycorn."

A deeper sensation was in store for the spectators. Before Jenkins
Hollis's appearance most of them had heard of his intention to
compete, but the feeling was one of unmixed astonishment when entry
No. 12 rode into the arena, and, on the