u!" said the Sharpshooter, putting away
his binoculars. "I knew he would."

By leaps and bounds the stretch-running Elisha overhauled his former
stable companion. Poor, tired Elijah was rocking in his gait, losing
ground almost as fast as Elisha was gaining it; his race was behind
him; he could do no more.

Mose, keeping watch out of the tail of his eye, saw the bay head
bobbing close behind. Now it was at Elijah's heels; the next stride
would bring it level with the saddle.... The next stride.

All that anyone ever saw was that Jockey Moseby Jones leaned slightly
toward the flying Elisha as Merritt drew alongside, and very few
spectators saw this much. Who cares to watch a loser when the winner
is in sight? Old Man Curry, waiting at the paddock gate, saw the
movement and immediately began to search his pockets for tobacco.

Jockey Merritt, strong of arm but weak of principle, was first to
realize that something had happened. Elisha's speed checked with such
suddenness that the rider narrowly escaped pitching out of the
saddle.... Had the horse stumbled ... or been frightened?... What in
the world was it?... Merritt recovered his balance and quite
instinctively drove the spurs home; the only response was a grunt
from Elisha. The long racing stride shortened to a choppy one. The
horse was not tired, nor was he quitting in the general acceptance of
the term; he was merely stopping to a walk with all possible speed.
Merritt was seized with panic. He drew his whip and began slashing
savagely. Elisha answered this by waving his tail high in the air, a
protest and a flag of truce--but run he would not. His pace grew
slower and slower and at the paddock gate he was on even terms with
the drooping Elijah. "What ails that horse?" demanded the presiding
judge. "He won't run a lick! Acts as if he's taken a sulky streak all
at once!"

"Yes," said the associate. "The Bible horses are having a contest to
see which one of 'em can quit the fastest.... Queer-looking race,
judge. And they bet on Elisha this time, too."

"I'm glad of it!" exploding the other. "It serves 'em right. I like
to see a frame-up go wrong once in a while!"

Side by side Elijah and Elisha fell back toward the field, little
Mose grinning from ear to ear, but industriously hand riding his
mount; Jockey Merritt cursing wildly and plying rawhide and steel
with all his strength. The other horses, coming on with a closing
rush, enveloped the pair, passing them