"Doan' you fret, Miss Sally," Uncle Jake encouraged. "She'll beat 'em yet!"
"Not this time, old man," said Judge Dillon very gently. He was tearing his program carefully into little pieces, with big shaking hands.…
The horses were around the first turn, and the battle up the back stretch had begun. The red bay was still leading.
"Mandarin in front!" said some one behind us. "Rob Roy second and running easy—the rest nowhere!"
"Jes' you wait!" called Uncle Jake.
"You ole fool nigger!" came Blister's muffled voice.
Even at that distance I could have told which one was last. The same effortless floating stride I had noticed long ago was hers as Très Jolie, foot by foot, ate up the gap. At the far turn she caught the stragglers and one by one she cut them down.
"Oh, gallant spirit!" I thought. "If they had given you but half a chance!"
I lost her among a melee of horses, on the turn, as the leader swung into the stretch. It was the same red bay, but now the boy on the black horse moved his hands forward a little and his mount came easily to the leader's side. There was a short struggle between them and the bay fell back.
"Mandarin's done!" cried the voice behind us. "Rob Roy on the bit!"