Again they aligned and came thundering down. The old man was pale and silent, and Ben Butler felt the lines telegraphing nervous messages to his bitted mouth; but all he heard was: “Shiloh—Cap'n Tom—Steady, old hoss!”
“Go!”
It sounded like a gun-shot in the old man's ears. There was a whirr of wheels, a patter of feet grappling with dirt and throwing it all over him—another whirr and flutter and buzz as of a covey flushed, and the field was off, leaving him trailing.
“Whew, Ben Butler, we're in fur it now—the Lord 'a-mussy on our souls! Take the pole—s'artenly,—it's all yowin, since you're behin'! Steady ole hoss, there's one consolation,—they're breakin' the wind for you, an' thank God!—yes Ben Butler, look! they're after one other,—they're racin' like Tam O'Shanter an' cookin' each other to a gnat's heel—Oh, Lord what fools! It'll tell on 'em—if we can only save our distance—this heat—jes' save our distance—Wh-o-p, sah! Oh, my Lord, told you so—Troup's mare's up an' dancin' like a swamp rabbit by moonlight. Who-op, sah, steady ole hoss—there now we've passed him—Trombine and Lizette ahead—steady—let 'em go, big devil, little devil, an' pumpin' each other—Go now, go old hoss, now's the time to save our distance—go old hoss, step lively now—'tain't no meetin', no Sunday School—it's life, bread and a chance for Cap'n Tom! Oh, but you ain't forgot entirely, no-no,—ain't forgot that you come in answer to prayer, ain't forgot that half in one-one, ain't forgot yo' pious raisin', yo' pedigree. Ain't forgot you're racin' for humanity an' a chance, ain't forgot—there! the flag—my God and safe!”
He had passed the flag. Lizzette and Trombine were already at the wire, but poor Troup—his mare had never been able to settle after her wild break, and she caught the flag square in the face.
The crowd met the old pacer with a yell of delight. He had not been shut out—marvel of marvels!
It was getting interesting indeed.
Bud and Jack met him with water and a blanket. How proud they were! But the heavy old cart had told on Ben Butler. He panted like a hound, he staggered and was distressed.
“He'll get over that,” said the old driver cheerily to Bud's tearful gaze—“he ain't used to it yet—ten years, think of it,” and Jack led Ben Butler blanketed away.
The old man looked at the summary the judges had hung up. It was: