tell you, you'll not. You only managed it this
time because my horse got frightened and shied. But just you try a
second time, and I'll show you who is the best man."

Meanwhile the other competitors had come up, and Martin hastened to
explain how it was that the stranger had got in quicker than himself. He
had a hundred good reasons for it at the very least.

The stranger allowed him to have his say in peace, and, full of good
humour, returned to take his place again in the ranks of the
competitors. His modest self-reliance and forbearance quite won for him
the sympathy of the crowd, which was disgusted at the arrogance of
Martin, and in the carriages of the gentry wagers began to be laid, and
the betting was ten to one on the stranger winning all three races.

The mortars were again loaded, the youths were once more placed in a
row, and at the third report the competing band again plunged forward.
Now also the two rival horses drew away from the other competitors. In
the middle of the course they were a length ahead of the foremost
racers, and side by side urged their steeds strenuously towards the
goal. Almost to the very end of the course neither was able to outstrip
the other; but when they were scarce fifty paces from the flag, the
stranger suddenly gave a loud smack with his whip, whereupon his steed,
responding to the stimulus, took a frantic bound forward, outstripping
Martin's steed by a head, and this distance was maintained between them
unaltered to the very end of the race, though the Whitsun King savagely
laid about his foaming horse with his whip-handle. The stranger was at
the banner before him, and so vigorously tore it out of the hand of Mr.
Varju, that that gentleman fell prone from his horse.

Martin, beside himself with rage, lashed at the ravished flag with his
whip, and made a great rent in its red centre. Useless fury! The umpires
hastened up, and, removing the floral crown from the head of the Whitsun
King, who was quivering with passion, placed it on the head of the
victor.

"I don't want that!" cried the vanquished horseman, huskily, when they
offered him a cap. "I mean to win back my wreath."

"You had better let it rest where it is," came a voice from the
carriages.

"No need of that," replied Martin, defiantly. "Neither I nor my horse is
tired. We will run, if we die for it. Eh, Raro?"

The good steed, as if he understood what was said to him, pawed the
ground and arched his head.