nd that thing of Curry's got away flying."

"He'll quit about the time he hits the head of the stretch," said
Engle. "He gets his mail there.... Merritt has got Elisha in on the
rail, taking it easy, as I told him to. Believe me, that baby is some
stretch runner!"

"It cost me enough to find it out!" said O'Connor shortly.

Engle peered through his binoculars.

"Unless he breaks a leg, or something"--here O'Connor hastily knocked
wood--"we'll clean up," said Engle, critically. "Elisha is fighting
for his head--wants to run. I don't care where he is, turning for
home. He'll run over that bunch in the last quarter."

"Yes, but look at that Elijah go!" muttered O'Connor.

"Let him go!" said Engle, with a trace of irritation. "He'll come
back; he always does. Bet you fifty he's last!"

"Got you!" snapped O'Connor. "You may not know any more about this
one than you did about Elisha last month!"

The dots of colour skimmed around the upper turn, one of them so far
ahead that it seemed lonely. This was Elijah, burning his early
speed, jack-rabbiting ten lengths in front of his field, but
beginning to notice his exertions and feel the swift pace.

"'Lijah," remarked little Mose, looking back over his shoulder, "if
eveh you finds a race track whut's got a short home stretch in it,
you'll be 'notheh Roseben. Sutny will. On'iest trouble 'ith you,
'Lijah, 'em stretches built too _long_ faw you. Put 'e judges' stand
up heah whah we is now, an' yo' neveh lose a race!... Uh, huh! Heah
come 'Lisha now; 'em otheh jocks lettin' him th'ough on 'e rail....
Come on, honey blossom! We's waitin' faw you. Come on!"

Said the presiding judge: "That thing in front is quitting to nothing
... and here comes Elisha through on the rail.... Yes, he's a real
race horse to-day. Better see Engle about this. Have to teach him
that he can't run his horses in and out at this track!"

Said Al Engle: "What did I tell you? Running over horses, ain't he?
He'll have that Elijah grabbed in a few more jumps.... Take it easy,
Merritt! Don't win too far with him!"

Martin O'Connor heaved a great sigh of relief. Like all cautious
souls, he never ceased to worry until the last doubt was dispelled.
The weary, staggering Elijah was the only barrier between Elisha and
the goal. O'Connor's practiced eye saw no menace in that floundering
front runner; no danger in a shaft already spent. "He wins! He wins
easy!" breathed Martin.

"Just rolls home, I tell yo