ile Miss Long, flushed with victory, was holding her
horse till the judge fastened the ticket to his tossing head, Sawed-Off
Wilmott stepped forward, feeling sure that the place of honor by Ella
Anne's side would certainly be his. But just as he came sidling up,
with a boyish step, a stalwart young farmer, one of the Highland Scotch
giants from the Glenoro hills, elbowed his way up to the buggy. He had
been casting admiring glances at Miss Long all afternoon, and now,
without permission or apology, he sprang into the seat beside her.

"Thanks, awful much!" he cried jovially. Then in a lower tone, half
humble, half daring, "You're going to take me around, ain't you?"

Miss Long cast him a disdainful side glance. "Well, you are a cool
one!" she exclaimed haughtily. Nevertheless, she did not order him
out, but touched her horse with the whip, and away they sped.

Poor Sawed-Off stood for an instant, glaring after them; then, at a
laugh from the bystanders, he turned swiftly and leaped into his own
conveyance. His horse was all ready to go on for the next exhibit, and
a few of the men were already ambling around the ring in their
two-wheeled vehicles. Mr. Wilmott gave his steed a cut with the whip
and dashed fiercely into the ring after his faithless lady and her
impudent Lochinvar. He would pass them, and humiliate her before the
whole crowd. He came thundering down the track, his feet spread out,
one on each side of his horse's flanks, his little two-wheeled sulky
bobbing up and down over the rough road, his coat-tails flying, his
whiskers parted by the breeze and streaming behind, and a forgotten
bundle of hay, he had brought to feed his horse, sticking out rakishly
from under his seat.

Sawed-Off was a caution of a driver, every one admitted, and in a few
minutes he had all but overtaken the truant pair. Miss Long turned and
took in the situation. She sat just a shade straighter, grasped her
whip more firmly, and urged her horse to the utmost. Around and around
the ring flew the runaways, and around and around behind them, gaining
at every leap, bounced the sulky, the hay, and the angry pursuer.

They had just passed the grand-stand for the second time, and the crowd
was beginning to cheer, when a third competitor joined the swift
procession. The eldest Sawyer orphan had been herding his third-prize
cow in an ignominious corner, which properly belonged to the pigs and
sheep; but growing weary of his tas