enched, and the muscles of his lips drawn over them gave
him an expression half laughing, half demoniac. On the first round his
cap had fallen off, and the shaggy hair of his head and face streamed
in the wind, adding greatly to the fierceness of his looks. He had
perfect control of himself and horse, and rode like a centaur, ready to
take any advantage which circumstances or guile threw in his way. He
also had held in his horse with bit and bridle, reserving his best
efforts for the closing part of the race.

During the first half of the second mile Turner knew that it was
necessary for him to lessen the distance between himself and Hiram
Ketcham, and LeMonde realized that he must soon close the gap
separating Turner and himself. Almost at the same time they gave their
horses more rein, and they sprang to their work with increased speed.
Ketcham had taken advantage of his lead by crossing the track and
taking the narrow arc of the circle. The three horses were trotting in
a line, all hugging the inside track. Very soon the distance between
the sorrel and the black was diminished, and before the half mile point
was reached the monster dwarf turned his horse toward the center of the
track to pass Ketcham. Just beyond the half-mile point Turner's black
passed Ketcham's sorrel, and LeMonde's bay was neck and neck with the
black. A few rods more, and it was plain to be seen that the bay was
forging ahead of the black.

The monster dwarf saw at once the advantage of his rival, and hissing
through his teeth in a low voice the words: "Dat's my holt," brought
his short cowhide whip down with force upon the withers of Velox. It
was the act of a jockey utterly without principle, an act execrated by
every true Kentucky sportsman.

The splendid animal never before had felt the lash of a whip. The blow
had the effect desired by the dwarf. It broke the gait of the bay
horse. The stroke was so unexpected and painful that the horse gave a
bound forward and upward that almost unseated the rider. Then he
plunged along the track with irregular strides, sometimes rushing to
the sides and then to the center.

Though taken by surprise George LeMonde acted with decision and
judgment. He held his mount with a firm hand, and added to the strength
of his arm the soothing effect of his voice: "Steady, steady, Velox!
Your master did not strike you. He loves you. Steady, steady, good
horse! Velox! Velox! Velox!" By these means young LeMonde ren