coming up just behind Lizzette's sulky he hung
there in a death struggle.

One quarter, half, three-quarters, and still they swung
around--locked--Travis bitter with hot oaths and the old man pale
with prayer. He could see Travis's eyes flashing lightning hatred
across the narrow space between them--hatred, curses, but the old man
prayed on.

"The flag--now--ole hoss--for Jesus' sake!--"

He reached out in the old way, lifted his horse by sheer great force
and fairly flung him ahead!--

"Flu-r-r-r!" it was Lizzette's breath as he went by her. He shot his
eyes quickly sideways as she flailed the air with her forefeet within
a foot of his head. Her eyes glowed, sunken,--beat--in their sockets;
with mouth wide open, collapsed, frantic, in heart-broken dismay, she
wabbled, staggered and quit!

"Oh, God bless you, Ben Butler!--"

But that instant in the air with her mouth wide open within a foot of
the old man's head her lower teeth exposed, the old driver saw she
was only four years old. Why had he noticed it? What mental telepathy
in great crises cause us to see the trifles on which often the
destiny of our life hangs?

Ben Butler, stubborn, flying, was shaking his game old head in a
bull-dog way as he went under the wire. It maddened him to be pulled
up.

"So, softly, softly old fellow! We've got 'em licked, you've got
religin' in yo' heels, too. Ain't been goin' to church for ten years
for nothin'!"

The old man wanted to shout, and yet he was actually shedding tears,
talking hysterically and trembling all over. He heard in a dazed way
the yells and thunder from the grand-stand. But he was faint and
dizzy, and worst of all, as he laughed to himself and said: "Kinder
sissy an' soft in spots."

Jack and Bud had Ben Butler and were gone. No wonder the grand-stand
pulsed with human emotion. Never before had anything been done like
this. The old, blind pacer,--the quaint old preacher--the thing they
were going to shut out,--the pathos, the splendor of it all,--shook
them as humanity will ever be shaken when the rejected stone comes up
in the beauty of purest marble. Here it was:

_4th Heat:_ _Ben Butler, 1st_; _Lizzette, 2nd._ _Time_, 2:19-1/2.

What a record it was for the old pacer! Starting barely able to save
his distance, he had grown in speed and strength and now had the mare
at his mercy--the two more heats he had yet to win would be a walk
around for him.

Oh, it was glorious--glorious!

"Oh, by g