fingers, but as yet he had not moved his whip. Only when
three hundred paces had been traversed did he suddenly clap his spurs to
his horse's flanks, lash out with his whip, utter a loud cry, and in
three bounds was ahead of the others.

Then, indeed, began a shouting and yelling and cracking of whips. Every
horseman lay forward on the neck of his horse, caps fell, capes flew,
and in mid-course every one fancied he was going to win. One steed
stumbled beneath his rider; the rest galloped on.

From the carriages it was easy to see how the Whitsun King was galloping
along among the rest, his long chaplet of flowers streaming in the wind
behind him. One by one he overtook those who were galloping in front of
him, and as often as he left one of them behind he gave him a crack with
his whip, crying derisively, "Wire away, little brother!"

By the time three quarters of the course was traversed he had plainly
left them all behind, or rather all but one--the stranger-youth.

Martin hastened after him likewise. His horse was longer in the body,
but the other's was as swift as the wind. And now only two hundred paces
were between them and the goal. The youth looked back upon his
competitor with a confident smile, whereupon the gentlemen in the
carriages shouted, "Hold fast!" which warning applied equally to both
competitors. Master Jock actually stood up to see better, the contest
had now become exciting.

"And now he's laying on the whip!" cried he. "Something like, eh! And
now he gives his horse the spur! One lash, and it flies like the storm!
What a horse! I'd give a million for it; and how the fellow sticks on!
Well, Martin, it will be all up with your Whitsun Kingship immediately.
Only a hundred paces more. 'Tis all over; he'll never be able to catch
him up!"

And so, indeed, it proved. The stranger reached the goal a whole
half-minute before Martin, and was already standing there in front of
the flag when he came up. Martin, however, as he came galloping in,
quickly snatched the flag out of Mr. Varju's hand, and cried
triumphantly to the youth--

"Don't suppose, little brother, that you have won; for the rule is that
whoever seizes the banner first, he is the Whitsun King, and you see it
is in _my_ hand."

"Indeed!" said the youth, serenely; "I did not know that. I'll take care
to remember that at the second race."

"Really, now," cried Martin. "You appear pretty cock-sure that you'll
get in before me again. I