ould be one heat of
desperate fun and then--

A good-natured, spasmodic gulp of laughter ran clear through the
grand-stand, and along with it, from excited groups, from the
promenade, from the track and infield and stables, even, came such
expressions as these:

"Worth ten dollars to see it!"

"Wouldn't take a hoss for the sight!"

"If he _did_ happen to beat that trio of sports!"

"Boss, it's gwinter to be a hoss race from wire to wire!"

"Oh, pshaw! one heat of fun--they'll shut him out!"

In heart, the sympathy of the crowd was all with the old preacher.

The old man had a habit when keyed to high pitch, emotionally, of
talking to himself. He seemed to regard himself as a third person,
and this is the way he told it, heat by heat:

"Fus' heat, Ben Butler--Now if we can manage to save our distance
an' leave the flag a few yards, we'll be doin' mighty well. Long
time since you stretched them ole muscles of yo's in a race--long
time--an' they're tied up and sore. Ever' heat'll be a wuck out
to you till you git hot. If I kin only stay in till you git
hot--(_Clang--clang--clang_). That's the starter's bell. Yes--we'll
score now--the fus' heat'll be our wuss. They've got it in fur us--they'll
set the pace an' try to shet us out an', likely es not, do it. God
he'p us--Shiloh--Cap'n Tom--it's only for them, Ben Butler--fur them.
(_Clang!--Clang!_) Slow there--heh--heh--Steady--ah-h!"

_Clang--clang-clang!_ vigorously. The starter was calling them back.

They had scored down for the first time, but the hot-heads had been
too fast for the old ambler. In their desire to shut him out, they
rushed away like a whirlwind. The old pacer followed, rocking and
rolling in his lazy way. He wiggled, shuffled, skipped, and when the
strain told on the sore old muscles, he winced, and was left at the
wire!

The crowd jeered and roared with laughter.

"He'll never get off!"

"He's screwed there--fetch a screw driver!"

"Pad his head, he'll fall on it nex'!"

"Go back, gentlemen, go back," shouted the starter, "and try again.
The old pacer was on a break"--_Clang--clang--clang!_ and he jerked
his bell vigorously.

Travis was furious as he drove slowly back. "I had to pull my mare
double to stop her," he called to the starter. "We were all aligned
but the old pacer--why didn't you let us go?"

"Because I am starting these horses by the rules, Mr. Travis. I know
my business," said the starter hotly.

Col. Troup was blu