The audience took it in and began to shout: “Let him in! Let him in! It's fair!”
But others felt outraged and shouted back: “No—put him out! Put him out!”
The starting judge clanged his bell again, and the other three starters came up.
Flecker, good-natured and fat, his horse in a warming-up foam, laughed till he swayed in the sulky. Col. Troup, dignified and reserved, said nothing. But Travis swore.
“It's preposterous!—it will make the race a farce. We're out for blood and that purse. This is no comedy,” he said.
The old man only smiled and said: “I'm sorry to spile the sport of gentlemen, but bein' gentlemen, I know they will stan' by their own rules.”
“It's here in black and white, Travis,” said the starter, “You made it yourself.”
“Oh, hell,” said Travis hotly, “that was mere form and to satisfy the Valley. I thought the entrance fee would bar any outsider.”
“But it didn't,” said the Judge, “and you know the rules.”
“Let him start, let the Hill-Billy start!” shouted the crowd, and then there was a tumult of hisses, groans and cat-calls.