What a record it was for the old pacer! Starting barely able to save his distance, he had grown in speed and strength and now had the mare at his mercy—the two more heats he had yet to win would be a walk around for him.
Oh, it was glorious—glorious!
“Oh, by gad, sah,” shouted Col. Troup, pompously. “I guess I've hedged all right. Travis will pay my thousand. He'll know how to shet out gentlemen the nex' time. Oh, by gad, sah!”
Flecker and the Tennesseans took drinks and shouted themselves hoarse.
Then the old preacher did something, but why he never could explain. It seemed intuition when he thought of it afterwards. Calling Col. Troup to him he said: “I'm kinder silly an' groggy, Col'nel, but I wish you'd go an' look in her mouth an' see how old Lizzette is.”
The Colonel looked at him, puzzled.
“Why?”
“Oh, I dunno, Col'nel—but when a thing comes on me that away, maybe it's because I'm so nervous an' upsot, but somehow I seem to have a second sight when I git in this fix. I wanted you to tell me.”
“What's it got to do with the race, sah! There is no bar to age. Have you any susp—”
“Oh, no—no—Col'nel, it's jes' a warnin', an intuition. I've had 'em often, it's always from God. I b'leeve it's Him tellin' me to watch, watch an' pray. I had it when Ben Butler come, thar, come in answer to prayer—”