Ten yards from the finish—five yards—they were neck and neck. Then, summoning his last ounce of strength, Pegasus leaped forward as though he would annihilate time and distance. With eyes nearly blinded with dirt, tears and the roaring air, Connie saw Pegasus hurl himself past the winning post—a winner by half a length!
The ear-splitting roar that went up from the race-mad crowd must have caused the marmots on the slides near the distant glaciers to seek their holes in terror. A flock of mallard ducks, which had floated peacefully near the centre of the placid lake throughout the day’s commotion, rose with frightened cries to seek a more secluded spot in which to finish their afternoon’s siesta.
The crowd had seemingly gone mad. The atmosphere pulsated with a wild tumult of sound. Hats were thrown in air and throats were strained with shouting.
Donald found himself with his arms about Andy, dancing and cheering in a frenzy of joy.
Connie made no attempt to check her cayuse’s onward flight. She was in no mood to listen to the kudos of the admiring crowd; she wanted only to get away from the scene as quickly as possible. The movement toward the centre gave her the opportunity she desired, and she urged the weary cayuse through an opening on her left. Many hands were reached up to congratulate her, but she pushed her way through to the trail.
At the sound of hoof-beats behind her she turned to see Lafonte urging his tired mount toward the Pemberton trail and looking back apprehensively over his shoulder.
Several men were running after him, shaking their fists and uttering loud imprecations. A man leaped from behind a jack-pine to land in the path in front of the half-breed, lunged for the reins, missed, then caught the stirrup. Lafonte struck the man a blow with his heavy whip that loosened his hold and felled him to the ground.
Connie saw Gillis break from the crowd, jump to the saddle of a cayuse and start after the fleeing man just as the latter disappeared in the woods. Gillis waved his hand to her and vanished in pursuit. She urged Pegasus to the shelter of the timber as she saw her father and Donald running toward her.
The strenuous race and the spectacular fall had left both horse and rider in a badly shaken condition. Connie’s body was bruised and sore, and her head ached horribly. The cayuse’s strained muscles were stiffening, he was limping badly, and his head drooped wearily as he dragged his tired limbs up the steep trail.
At the barn door Connie dismounted stiffly, removed the horse’s bridle, then threw her arms passionately around his neck and stroked his symmetrical head with soft caresses. “I’m so sorry, Peggy darling,” she said in a choking voice.