NEITHER THE GENERAL NOR FRED SEEMED TO GAIN AN INCH!
They all had made an even start, and for many rods had kept together; but now Fred and the General began to push ahead. The pony’s silken tail brushed the shoulder of the foremost horse, while his handsome mane tossed against the bridle-rein of his antagonist.
It was a fine sight to see these two beautiful horses settle down for the remaining two-mile run. The movement of each was perfect. There was no convulsive effort, no waste of energy. They glided onward as smoothly as the flight of birds. Nose to nose, neck to neck, shoulder to shoulder they flew. Neither the General nor Fred seemed to gain an inch, and neither seemed to care whether the other won or not. Patches of meadow grass brilliant with wild flowers, pieces of rich sculpture, a thousand rare objects that once shone in beautiful houses or more beautiful temples, lay scattered along their course; but they were unnoticed in the glorious speed.
But a half-mile remains, and each horse is making his best time. The sun lights up horses and riders, so that they seem like phantoms sweeping over the plain. Now with a bound they cross a wide ditch, the General’s horse distancing the pony by several feet. The pony clings to him like a shadow. One touch of the spur upon his hot flank, and he recovers his lost ground. Never was there so close a race before! Now it is whip and spur, words of command and words of encouragement, and the horses seem scarcely to touch the ground. Now the General leads, now Fred. The goal is reached!
The umpire did not decide.
Fred told the Greek boy that night that he won it. If you are anxious to know who did win, ask the General.