terial.

"Whoop!" How Mickey hoorayed! "An' it's a free Jack ye are, Warrhorrse!
Thirteen always wuz a lucky number. I never knowed it to fail."

IX

"Yes, I know I did," said the Steward. "But I want to give him one more
run. I have a bet on him against a new Dog here. It won't hurt him now;
he can do it. Oh, well. Here now, Mickey, don't you get sassy. One run
more this afternoon. The Dogs run two or three times a day; why not the
Jack?"

"They're not shtakin' thayre loives, sor."

"Oh, you get out."

Many more Rabbits had been added to the pen,--big and small, peaceful
and warlike,--and one big Buck of savage instincts, seeing Jack
Warhorse's hurried dash into the Haven that morning, took advantage of
the moment to attack him.

At another time Jack would have thumped his skull, as he once did the
Cat's, and settled the affair in a minute; but now it took several
minutes, during which he himself got roughly handled; so when the
afternoon came he was suffering from one or two bruises and stiffening
wounds; not serious, indeed, but enough to lower his speed.

The start was much like those of previous runs. The Warhorse steaming
away low and lightly, his ears up and the breezes whistling through his
thirteen stars.

Minkie with Fango, the new Dog, bounded in eager pursuit, but, to the
surprise of the starters, the gap grew smaller. The Warhorse was losing
ground, and right before the Grand Stand old Minkie turned him, and a
cheer went up from the dog-men, for all knew the runners. Within fifty
yards Fango scored a turn, and the race was right back to the start.
There stood Slyman and Mickey. The Rabbit dodged, the Greyhounds
plunged; Jack could not get away, and just as the final snap seemed
near, the Warhorse leaped straight for Mickey, and in an instant was
hidden in his arms, while the starter's feet flew out in energetic
kicks to repel the furious Dogs. It is not likely that the Jack knew
Mickey for a friend; he only yielded to the old instinct to fly from a
certain enemy to a neutral or a possible friend, and, as luck would
have it, he had wisely leaped and well. A cheer went up from the
benches as Mickey hurried back with his favorite. But the dog-men
protested "it wasn't a fair run--they wanted it finished." They
appealed to the Steward. He had backed the Jack against Fango. He was
sore now, and ordered a new race.

An hour's rest was the best Mickey could get for him. Then he went as
before, with