he did what he had never been known to do before,--put his head
down and made his heels rattle a vigorous protest against the
whiffletree and dashboard. Shouts of laughter rose louder and louder
over the campus, and dormitory windows were thrown up here and there
while the occupants of the rooms thrust out their heads to get a view of
what was going on.

"Get up, you bucking bronco!" yelled Campbell, and once more brought the
whip down on the sorrel. By this time, consternation and terror had
taken possession of old Jed; he suddenly abandoned his kicking and set
out at a gallop around the driveway. Campbell stood up like a Roman
charioteer and urged his steed on, but the lumbering Bassett had gained
too much of a start, and although the finish was close, the so-called
Whirlwind passed the steps of Gannett Hall while the sorrel was still a
length or two behind. Tracey Campbell braced himself firmly and jerked
back on the reins so roughly that the horse was brought to a sliding
stop.

"You win," he yelled to Bassett. "I'll buy the dinner."

Attracted by the commotion, Teeny-bits had thrust up the window of his
room, and old Daniel Holbrook had joined him in looking down upon the
scene. At first the station master had laughed a little and said:

"Some of your friends seem to be playing a few pranks on me."

But when he heard the noise of the whip and saw the horse jump with
fright and pain, his expression had changed and he had started down to
the campus. Teeny-bits followed close behind him; they had reached the
steps of Gannett Hall when the spectacular finish of the race occurred.
Tracey Campbell, seeing the owner of the horse, leaped out of the buggy
and said facetiously:

"I just borrowed this animule of yours for a minute. He's some _racer_,
I'll say."

"I'll say to you, young man," said Daniel Holbrook, "that that isn't any
way to treat a horse. I don't mind a mite having you borrow my rig, but
I _do_ mind having you abuse a dumb animal that hasn't any way to come
back at you."

Two or three of the boys in the crowd tittered, but most of them were
silent. They knew that the station master was right, and they were
ashamed that they had joined in the laughter. But Tracey Campbell still
seemed to take it as a joke; he looked at the station master with a grin
and said in a tone which suggested that he was imitating:

"He's blowin' and puffin' _a mite_, but I guess he ain't injured none,
and I reckon as how h