race, he
heard somebody say. It occurred to him that she must be pretty brave,
for she didn't seem to be the pushing kind.

The order in which dogs are to run is decided by lot. He had hoped Drake
would be drawn for the first week. But in the lottery Drake came on
Friday. "Arnold's Drake," he heard the official read: "Owner, Jim
Arnold; handler, Jessie Arnold--handling for her father."

"Will you stay over, sir?" whispered Ferris.

Burton nodded.

All day long, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, in morning and afternoon
heats of three hours each, dogs were run in braces on the plantation of
Steve Earle, who was, like his father before him, one of the judges.
Gruelling heats they were that tested every nerve and fibre, run under
the eyes of judges who saw every move.

As for Burton, he went out to the testing ground but once. He was not
used to hard horseback riding, and he wanted to be fresh on Friday. But
once every day, either in the morning or the afternoon, he saw the girl
set out on her pony. She was learning the course, getting ready for her
own race.

Most of the time when she wasn't riding the course, she spent with the
dog, exercising him, all alone, on the streets of the town. Once when
Burton went out to the barn lot to look at him, where he waited, chained
to his kennel, the girl came, also. He watched her as she stooped before
the eager dog, and stroked his head.

"Tired of waiting, old man?" she asked.

Again he reared up against her and looked into her face.

"Do you--er--think he will bolt?" asked Burton as they went back toward
the house.

She stopped and looked him straight in the eyes; her own were brown,
frank, high-spirited, like a boy's.

"No!" she said bravely. "I can handle him."

"She's over-confident, sir," declared Ferris when the two reached
Burton's room. "She don't know what she's up against. She's nothing but
a kid. That dog was born a bolter, and he will die a bolter."

On Thursday morning the girl spoke to Burton as they came out of the
dining room. She was going to take Drake out to the edge of town for a
practise run, she said. Would he care to go along? He had seemed to be
so interested in Drake.

He had Ferris hire a car. One of the women of the house went with them.
In the edge of the town Jessie took the dog out and, Burton and Ferris
following, led him into a field. Here she snapped the leash.

"Go!" she cried.

He needed no such command. Like a white meteor he s