Lolita Hernandez, Alfreda Castro and Carmelita Mendoza were ahead. For a minute the three carretas ran neck and neck.
Marcel Hernandez, father of Lolita, rode by her team. In the enthusiasm of the moment he urged the horses with his riding-whip and joined with the postilions in shouting, "Hoop-la! Hoop-la!"
Patricio Martinez, Alfreda's long-time cavalier, hovered near her, shouting: "Now's your chance, Diego! Stir up that pinto! Ease the bit on that sorrel! Go it, my beauties!"
The Doña Carmelita's peon had a cool head, driving so as to draw from the other racers their best speed. Little by little he lessened the swiftness of his own horses, allowing the others to forge ahead.
The Hernandez Mexicans and the Castro Andalusians held their own, side by side, as if in double harness. For more than a hundred paces it seemed neither one gained nor lost a hairbreadth. Suddenly the Castro animals winded. High-stepping and proud, they gradually lost. Magnificent in their defeat they fell back.
"Huzza! Huzza!" yelled Hernandez. "I knew I breed the best stock in the valley. My daughter shall be queen of the fiesta."
Then Carmelita's peon gave rein to his horses. They sprang from the ground and rushed onward. For an instant the two carretas ran together, each splendid horse, straight-backed, ears low, nostrils distended, striking his feet in unison with his fellows. Soon the Hernandez team began to slip backward foot by foot.
"Diablo! Diablo!" thundered Hernandez. "Peon, urge your horses! Use the whip!"
The Hernandez Indian dug his spurs into his mount, and cruelly flayed the leaders.
The other carreta yet more quickly moved ahead. Already the Mendoza wheeler was abreast the Hernandez leader.