at
least a hundred years back. Remember, now, I'm strictly quoting him:
'Blink Bonny is really ancient history--she won the year poor old Dick
Ten Broek tried so hard to have his American-bred ones carry off the
blue ribbon of the turf. He didn't win it--no American did--until one
of them had luck enough to try for it with something of Blink Bonny's
blood. Iroquois went back to her through his sire, Bonnie
Scotland-Iroquois, who wasn't really a great horse, but a good one
that happened on a great chance.'"

"Why, Allys darling, I can hardly believe my ears! Here you are
talking horse like a veteran, when I always thought you didn't know a
fetlock from a wishbone," the Hammond girl cooed, swimming up behind
them on old Van Ammerer's arm. They were headed for the paddock,
although it was not quite time for the saddling bell. The Heathflower
thing was still invisible--Allys searched the course for her through
Hilary's glass, saying the while over her shoulder, with her most
infantine smile: "You thought right, Camilla dear. I don't really
_know_ anything--have only a parrot faculty of repeating what I hear."

The Hammond girl flushed--that was what she had said of Allys when
people laughed over the Rhett _mots_. But before she could counter,
Allys cried joyously: "At last! The Heathflower thing! Really, she
hasn't any looks--but see her run, will you?"

"She does move like a winner--but it's impossible she can stay,"
Hilary said, almost arrogantly. "Pedigree is all very well--until it
runs up against performance----"

"Right you are! Quite mighty right, Rich, me boy," old Van Ammerer
interrupted. "But I didn't know they let dark horses run in the Far
and Near----"

"Lucky you are young, Van--you have such a lot to learn," Adair said,
brusquely, as they went toward the paddock. It was thronged, but
somehow at sight of Hilary the human masses fell respectfully
apart--albeit the men and women there had forgotten themselves, even
forgotten each other for the time being, in their poignant eagerness
over the big race.

They were hardly through the gate and well established in an eddy when
the bell brought the racers pacing or scurrying in. The Heathflower
thing came straight off the course, and stood spiritlessly, drooping
her head and blinking her eyes. Clear eyes, matching the loose, satiny
skin, beneath which whipcord muscles stood out, or played at each
least motion, they told the eye initiate that she was in the pi