and at a little ravine which led down to
the river, over which the road passed by means of a long, log bridge
or causeway.

3. From a point upon the high bank of the river, the whole course lay
in open view. It was a scene full of life and vividly picturesque.
There were miners in dark clothes and peak caps; citizens in ordinary
garb; ranch-men in wide cowboy hats and buckskin shirts and leggings,
some with cartridge-belts and pistols; a few half-breeds and Indians
in half-native, half-civilized dress; and scattering through the
crowd, the lumbermen with gay scarlet and blue blanket coats, and some
with knitted tuques of the same colour. A very good-natured but
extremely uncertain crowd it was. At the head of each horse stood a
man, but at the pintos' heads Baptiste stood alone, trying to hold
down the off-leader, thrown into a frenzy of fear by the yelling of
the crowd.

4. Gradually all became quiet, till, in the midst of absolute
stillness, came the words: "Are you ready?" then the pistol-shot, and
the great race had begun. Above the roar of the crowd came the shrill
cry of Baptiste, as he struck his broncho with the palm of his hand,
and swung himself into the sleigh beside Sandy, as it shot past.

5. Like a flash the bronchos sprang to the front, two lengths before
the other teams; but, terrified by the yelling of the crowd, instead
of bending to the left bank up which the road wound, they wheeled to
the right and were almost across the river before Sandy could swing
them back into the course.

6. Baptiste's cries, a curious mixture of French and English,
continued to strike through all other sounds, till they gained the top
of the slope to find the others almost a hundred yards in front, the
citizens' team leading, with the miners' following close. The moment
the pintos caught sight of the teams before them, they set off at a
terrific pace and steadily devoured the intervening space. Nearer and
nearer the turn came, the eight horses in front, running straight and
well within their speed. After them flew the pintos, running savagely
with ears set back, leading well the big roans, thundering along and
gaining at every bound. And now the citizens' team had almost reached
the Fort, running hard and drawing away from the bays. But Nixon knew
what he was about, and was simply steadying his team for the turn. The
event proved his wisdom, for in the turn the leading team left the
track, lost a moment or two in the de