ut and ran.

Ab turned quietly to the range.

'Hedn't orter t' come an' try t' dew my aimin',' he said mildly, by way
of protest, 'I won't hev it.'

Then he enquired about the score and calmly took aim again. The stallion
show came on that afternoon.

'They can't never beat thet hoss,' Uncle Eb had said to me.

''Fraid they will,' I answered. 'They're better hitched for one thing.'

'But they hain't got the ginger in 'em,' said he, 'er the git up 'n git.
If we can show what's in him the Hawk'll beat 'em easy.'

If we won I was to get the prize but I had small hope of winning. When
I saw one after another prance out, in sparkling silver harness adorned
with rosettes of ribbon--light stepping, beautiful creatures all of
them--I could see nothing but defeat for us. Indeed I could see we had
been too confident. I dreaded the moment when Uncle Eb should drive down
with Black Hawk in a plain leather harness, drawing a plainer buggy. I
had planned to spend the prize money taking Hope to the harvest ball at
Rickard's, and I had worked hard to put the Hawk in good fettle. I began
to feel the bitterness of failure.

'Black Hawk! Where is Black Hawk?' said one of the judges loudly.

'Owned by David Brower o' Faraway,' said another looking at his card.

Where indeed was Uncle Eb? I got up on the fence and looked all about
me anxiously. Then I heard a great cheering up the track. Somebody was
coming down, at a rapid pace, riding a splendid moving animal, a knee
rising to the nose at each powerful stride. His head and flying mane
obscured the rider but I could see the end of a rope swinging in his
hand. There was something familiar in the easy high stride of the horse.
The cheers came on ahead of him like foam before a breaker. Upon my
eyes! it was Black Hawk, with nothing but a plain rope halter on his
head, and Uncle Eb riding him.

'G'lang there!' he shouted, swinging the halter stale to the shining
flank. 'G'lang there!' and he went by, like a flash, the tail of Black
Hawk straight out behind him, its end feathering in the wind. It was
a splendid thing to see--that white-haired man, sitting erect on the
flying animal, with only a rope halter in his hand. Every man about me
was yelling. I swung my hat, shouting myself hoarse. When Uncle Eb came
back the Hawk was walking quietly in a crowd of men and boys eager to
feel his silken sides. I crowded through and held the horse's nose while
Uncle Eb got down.

'Thought I w