an antagonist judge him
difficult to dispose of in a struggle of any duration. There was no
delay this time about the start; for the two jumped off at the first
attempt, Montague having decidedly somewhat the best of it. By the
time they had gone a hundred yards the Engineer felt sure that he had
the speed of his opponent, and then, sad to say for his supporters, he
fell into the very error which Sylla Chipchase had so deprecated, viz.,
holding his antagonist too cheap. Mr. Montague's vanity had been
considerably wounded by that young lady's disbelief in his prowess.
She had contrived, as she had most assuredly intended, to irritate him
by her persistent scepticism as to his being the swift-footed Achilles
he so loved to pose as. He determined to show her and all other
unbelievers what he could really do. He would make a veritable
exhibition of his antagonist. He would cut him down and run clean away
from him. Fired with this idea, he shot well to the front, and came
along the next hundred yards at a great pace, and a shout went up from
the marquees near the winning-post of "Montague wins anyhow!" But we
all know what comes of the attempt to astonish the gallery. Although
the Engineer had undoubtedly established a strong lead, yet his wiry
foe, running well within himself, hung persistently on his track, and
was a long way from beaten off. During the next hundred yards it was
palpable that Beauchamp was slowly but steadily diminishing the gap
between them, and thence up to the marquees he closed rapidly on his
leader. Thirty yards from the winning-post Lionel made his effort,
fairly collared his antagonist about ten yards from home, and, leaving
him without an effort, won a good race by a couple of yards. Whether
the result would have been different had Mr. Montague held his opponent
in higher esteem, as in all such cases, it is impossible to determine;
but there can be no doubt that the ostentatious victory he aspired to
made Lionel Beauchamp's task considerably more easy.

Gratulations and condolences welcomed the victor and vanquished as they
walked slowly back to the marquees; but it was with somewhat of a
crestfallen air that Montague advanced to present Sylla with the cup
that she had won. He feared that she would be merciless in this her
hour of triumph, and dreaded the banter to which he might be subjected.
But Sylla knew well the virtue of moderation, and was, besides, far too
pleased with her succ