n; one minute
violent desire, and the next obstinate reluctance characterizing their
interminable twistings, backings, and plungings. It was not for long;
a neck or a length at the start meant little when a mile and a half
stretched its tiring length between them and the finish post.

Langdon's perplexity was cut short by the cry, "They're off!" the jingle
of a bell, and the scurrying of many feet, as eager men rushed for
higher points of observation in the stand.

As the seven horses came thundering by, pulling double in eager
ignorance of the long journey that lay before them, Langdon saw with
evil satisfaction that the Indian was well out in the lead.

The Dutchman was sixth, and behind, with a short awkward strength in his
gallop, loafed Lauzanne.

There was smoothness in the stride of Hanover's big son, The Dutchman;
and his trainer, as he watched him swing with strong grace around
the first turn, mentally fingered the ten thousand dollars that would
shortly be his.

"That skate win!" he sneered, as Lauzanne followed; "he gallops like a
fat pig. He can't live the pace--he can't live the pace," he repeated,
and his voice was mellow with a cheerful exultation.

His observations seemed eminently truthful; Allis's horse trailed
farther and farther behind the others. Out in front galloped with
unseeming haste the Indian--a brown blotch of swift-gliding color. Two
lengths from his glinting heels raced four horses in a bunch--two bays,
a gray, and a black; so close together that they formed a small mosaic
of mottled hue against the drab-gray background of the course stables
beyond. Then The Dutchman, with his powerful stride, full of easy
motion--a tireless gallop that would surely land him the winner, Langdon
thought, as he hung with breathless interest on every move of Westley's
body.

Up in the stand Old Bill was expressing in florid racetrack speech to
Mortimer his deductions.

"Days a good kid on Larcen. See what he's doin'; he's trailin' 'em.
Dat's where our horse gits it; he's a stretch runner, he is. Dey'll have
bellows to mend when he tackles 'em."

To Mortimer it appeared very much as though the other horses were too
fast for Lauzanne. "Isn't he losing?" he asked of his exuberant friend.

"Losin' nut'in'! De kid ain't moved on him yet. De others is gallopin'
der heads off; dey're chasm' de crazy skate in front. Dere's only two
jocks in de race worth a damn--Bill Westley an' de kid on our horse.
He k