rowd cheer
the rest encouragingly.

For a time they seem to run almost level, then most of the horses seem
to show signs of the terrible strain. Robin Adair keeps steadily to the
fore, with General closely at his heels. The rest begin to fall off.

Again a mad shout goes up for Robin Adair.

"No, no--General!" comes the hoarse cry from a hundred throats.

But through it all, the wiser ones notice the gallant little mare, Queen
Bess, coming slowly to the front.

Some daring voice shouts:

"Queen Bess! Queen Bess!"

"She is fresh as a daisy!" mutters some one in the box adjoining Jay
Gardiner's.

White to the lips, Sally Pendleton sits and watches, her hands clasped
tightly in her lap.

The babble of voices is so deafening that she can not hear.

Again the gallant steeds are specks in the distance. Now they pass the
curve, and are on the home-stretch, dashing swiftly to the finish.

Nearer and nearer sounds the thunder of their oncoming hoofs. Ten
thousand people grow mad with excitement as they dash on.

To the great surprise of the spectators, Queen Bess is gaining steadily
inch by inch, until she passes those before her, even the General, and
there is but a ribbon of daylight between herself and the great Robin
Adair.

The crowd goes wild with intense excitement. Nerves are thrilling as
down the stretch dashes the racers almost with the rapidity of
lightning.

The grand stand seems to rock with the excited shouts. One great cry
rises from ten thousand throats. Queen Bess has reached the great Robin
Adair's flanks, and inch by inch she is gaining on him. And the excited
spectators fairly hold their breath to see which horse wins.

CHAPTER IV.

WHICH WON?

Never in the history of the Lee races had there been such an exciting
scene as this. Jay Gardiner's face is as white as death, as, with bated
breath, he watches the two thorough-breds. Every one rises to his feet
in the hope of catching a full view of the flyers.

Which will win the race--the great Robin Adair or the gallant little
Queen Bess?

The mad shouts are deafening.

Suddenly they notice that Robin Adair, who has been victor in a dozen
such races, begins to show signs of distress. The foam covers his dark
chest, and his eyes flash uneasily. It is all that his rider can do to
urge him on with whip and spur.

There is only one more furlong to cover. Robin Adair and little Queen
Bess are side by side, neck to neck, both increas